Human Centipede

Look, I'm not made of stone, Netflix. If you keep telling me that there is a movie called Human Centipede that everyone seems to know about and has somehow gained sufficient cultural relevance to get a South Park episode of sorts then eventually I will goddamned watch it.

The first thing I noticed about Human Centipede is the way that natural dialogue, like what people say when they're just reacting to the real world and each other and making conversation, probably works best on film when the editing is quick enough to at least give it snappy timing. I reason that if you can't be interesting you can at least be brief. Conversely, you can take all the time in the world when the dialogue itself is clever or important in some way. Even silence can be useful if the audience has enough information to know how to interpret it or trusts the film to have a reason for it.

And hell, If you have witty dialogue and brisk timing, then I guess you're Quentin Tarantino directing Rosalind Russell. But if, god help you, you're pacing a mundane script to the languid metronome of two regular people talking about nothing for minutes on end, then you are making Human Centipede.

Fortunately, as I'm guessing most people already know, a couple of these characters end up not being able to talk before too long. As if to reward us for making it to the halfway point, the people who never say another word are the ones who were stumbling through what I hope were the ad-libbed opening scenes. We're then left with a guy who only speaks Japanese (actually, he mostly yells Japanese) and the mad doctor who soliloquizes often, at first to warn us about what we're about to see and then later to remind of us what he did.

Other than that, I don't really know what to say. Seeing this experiment come together elicited some disgust, mixed with relief that there would be some shutting up and the confusion of how this would actually work and why the doctor even assumed it would. I hesitate to grant any metaphorical significance to the actual human centipede beyond what horror movies in general can typically claim. As a freak show attraction on film, it delivers, I suppose and there is some suspense every now and then.

Honestly, I expected to see a lot more graphic stuff happening a lot more often, just to keep pace with Saw and others. Obviously, there is nothing pleasant about Centipede but neither does there really seem to be much to it at all besides the ostentatious premise. Unless someone takes ninety minutes to explain the central conceit of movie to you, you're probably better off hearing about it instead of actually watching it.

Captain America: The First Avenger

So, back when they were starting out this whole Avengers dealie with that Iron Man movie everybody went to see, I was a little worried about the future. I mean, Iron Man is a pretty easy sell: he's a slick douchebag by day who fights crime in a suite made of technology porn. Sold.

But then we have to do The Hulk, which really isn't so bad since everyone at least already kind of knows this guy. And even though there's been some dumb shit associated with him put up on movie screens in recent memory, he is recognizable and his film came out close enough to Iron Man to maybe sell a few movie tickets, free ride style.

Years pass. Thor is next and it is going to have a rainbow bridge and a dude who flies by throwing his hammer and holding on. Is he going to spin his hammer really fast and use it as a dimensional gateway? Fuck, he might! He's magic! He's got wings on his helmet and pals around with a big fat guy whose super powers are apparently belly laughs and gruffling turkey legs. The future of this franchise is in danger because the odds of this movie sucking are good. Mighty good.

After him comes Captain America who promises to throw his shield at people like a fearsome boomerang and punch a guy with a red skull for a face...in the face...but not before that dastardly villain makes a thrilling escape in his whirly-bird rocketship! Cap's going to have little wings on his helmet that look like he could use them to flutter gently to the ground from high atop ridiculousness, if he were actually inclined to do that. Shit, this movie might suck, too. There's just too much stupid stuff related to some of these characters and no amount of Samuel L. Jackson is going to distract from that.

Which is why it came as a great relief to find out that Thor kept a lid on the goofiest aspects of the character and world while giving us a reasonable enough explanation of why the things they left in exist. The movie acknowledges that we already know who Thor is and that we know he is the god of thunder, but then distances itself from that interpretation of him (wisely, I think) by making him an awesome superman from an advanced world. In this version, magic is technology is magic, misunderstood by the ancient Teutons who saw the Asgardian aliens in the distant past all zapping dudes and freezing each other and jotted all that down into what became their (and our) mythology.

Captain America goes one step further by embracing the campy nature of a guy in blue pajamas before moving on to him being awesome. Yes, he wears a dumb costume and prances around with tiny wings on his head. Yes, he lets people call him Captain America, but he only does it because he takes a job shilling war bonds with chorus girls after his barely-begun military career falls through. Via a montage of can canning and fake Hitler punching, we see Cap build a popular character out of a government run marketing pitch. Hell, we even see kids buying up Captain America comic books, which means that, unlike Thor, his mythology wasn't the result of a misunderstanding by primitives, it was invented to appeal to them.

After that, he finally gets to realize his potential as a super soldier, so the action ramps up and before long he's jumping his motorcycle in front of a tank that explodes behind him in slow motion, and he hangs there like he's modelling for a splash page. It's pretty fun to watch and, for me at least, finally assured me that this franchise is no longer in critical danger of sucking.

Cowboy Bebop - Session 8: Waltz for Venus

There are a few themes worth keeping track of throughout Cowboy Bebop, but I consider only two to be central to what the series is all about. First is the subject of time -- particularly one's past and its relationship with the present -- which we have thus far seen primarily through Spike's eyes. This will eventually become an important concern for every principal character in some way after we get a much clearer look at the histories of Faye, Jet, and the rest.

The other element, critical though it is, doesn't really surface until Waltz for Venus. It's the ultimate futility of it all, which benefits greatly from the information about the character's pasts given ostensibly in service of the other theme. I'm sure I must be quoting someone, though I can't determine who or how loosely this is paraphrased, but, in essence, "there is no sadness without memory". In other words, for this futility to have any impact, it helps to get a little perspective via backstory. It's still far too early to say anything definitive about how anything or anyone winds up at the end of Bebop, but this episode does provide a nice preview, in miniature, of what is to come.

As gloomy as that may sound, Venus doesn't start out as a drag. In fact, after a successful bounty collection by the on-again team of Spike and Faye, the Bebop crew is temporary flush with a little cash. To celebrate, Faye seizes the opportunity to resume being broke by way of the casino and Ein gets a nice meal. On the whole, though, their lives don’t really change much for the better after this rare victory, even temporarily. Shortly after the bounty is turned in and the reward has been distributed among the crew, Jet is already looking for the next bounty to start the whole process over again.

And now that we’ve seen the meager rewards for success in their work, it raises the question of why they even bother doing it at all. Considering the risks involved and, perhaps more importantly, their constant failures, it is surprising that they’re able to earn enough money to survive. They must be cashing in on some bounties between episodes, because the available evidence does not suggest that they could last this long otherwise. Leaving Faye and her gambling aside, if the money they get from turning in bounties goes towards food and other basic necessities plus ship maintenance and fuel, the purpose of which is to allow them to continue hunting bounties, well, the entire thing seems basically pointless.

To clear the air of existential funk, this episode introduces Roco and Stella, a brother and sister living on Venus whose motivations are much easier to define. They represent a solid sibling relationship with the older brother being willing to do anything to help the younger sister, who in turn loves her older brother unconditionally. This relative simplicity gives them a certain innocence that sets them apart from most of the other people we meet in this universe. It manifests itself first in the way they are both surprisingly quick to put a great deal of trust in Spike, even doing so independently from each other and under circumstances that wouldn't exactly justify it.

Although Roco does so partly out of desperation and necessity, Stella's intuitive judgment of character stems from her blindness, caused by an uncommon reaction to the plants used to terraform the planet. She tells Spike that she can understand things more easily because she is blind, which is how she can quickly tell that Spike is basically a good person, even if that goodness is buried. She compares him to her brother, who is still good even though he is doing bad things with bad people, because he is just using them as a way to get the cure for her blindness.

One way to interpret Stella is through a zen sort of filter which allows her blindness to be the strength by which she can ignore the superficial things that get in the way of understanding. I think the sad reality, though, is that she’s a kind, well-meaning person who is cut off from the world and therefore rather naive as to how it works. Roco is similarly naive, but since he doesn’t have the excuse of being holed up in the desert, I think he is more likely to come across as mostly foolish. None of this is meant to imply that these two are pitiful or stupid, only that their innocence leads them to do some foolish things.

This is most obvious in the way Roco tries to use the criminal gang as a way to secure the rare Grey Ash plant that will cure his sister. In this respect, he’s a little like Faye and her gambling in that he is taking a big risk in hopes that a big payoff will follow, despite the odds being decidedly against that outcome. In his mind, he must have imagined that he could get what he wanted from them and escape, not quite realizing how good they would be at keeping that from happening.

The defining moment in this episode comes during the showdown with the gang when Roco finally succeeds in throwing an attacker the way Spike had showed him. As he smiles to Spike and gets a thumbs up in response, he is shot, without warning, through the chest. As he falls so does the Grey Ash, which withers and dies seconds after its protective glass case is broken. This scene, to be echoed later in the series, makes it achingly clear that not only can life end in an instant, but every important thing gained in that life can disappear just as quickly.

The bitterness of this outcome is sweetened somewhat when Stella is still able to be cured by way of the Grey Ash seeds Roco had smuggled to her earlier without her knowledge. This ending removes much of the futile edge from Roco's life and death, but it also says something about how this series intends to treat earnest though naive people. Specifically, it gives some support to "loss of innocence" as one of the other minor themes worth keeping an eye on as we progress. Its contributions to the overall futility of the series pay off spectacularly.


Side Note:
Faye’s lone-wolf bounty hunting story gets almost no time but is still worth a mention. Mainly because she is in no-nonsense badass mode which is all kicking down doors and shoving pistols into dude’s mouths. I think part of her knows that she’s been making a poor seductress and so she tries the more aggressive stance we’ve hardly seen since her machinegun-accented introduction in the second episode. It’s a great time for her to use this tactic, too, because it puts her in clear opposition to Spike’s Bruce Lee-inspired “like water” style that simply redirects the aggression of his attacker.

Anders [chat]ring Breivik

Oslo Terrorist used WoW as cover

As preparations for what are essentially terrorist operations can raise suspicions, typically over one's lack of money or time spent away from friends and family, Breivik suggests that "using social taboos is an extremely effective method from preventing people who know you well from digging too much." One such taboo is an obsession with World of Warcraft.

"F[or] example, tell them that you have started to play World of Warcraft or any other online MMO game and that you wish to focus on this for the next months/year," Breivik writes. "This "new project" can justify isolation and people will understand somewhat why you are not answering your phone over long periods. Tell them that you are completely hooked on the game (raiding dungeons etc)."

Ergo, all WoW players are terrorists.

John Boehner: We in the house said not so fast.

It just angers up the blood.

Modus Tollens and WoW Achievements

In an effort to perpetuate my chastity I spent a chunk of this weekend working on WoW achievements, one of which was Destruction Derby. This achievement requires that one destroy four types of vehicles in a particular battleground. After destroying three of the required vehicles I then focused upon destroying Siege Engines, something of a pain in the ass given that Horde captures the Siege Engine spawning zone in around 87% of matches and bla bla you don’t care about these details at all.

I destroy two of the damn things, and do not receive credit for doing so. This irks me, so I submitted a GM ticket. Herein shall be found part of that conversation:

GM: The big question I have it - when you were attacking the Siege Engine, did you get the killing blow?

Me: In both cases I dps'd through the final percents, but I do not know how to tell if I had the killing blow. Other than some kind of modus tollens induction.

GM: Ok. Unfortunately I can't tell either. :( And now I need to steal modus tollens for myself in casual conversation, thank you.

GM: There are a few reports about this achievement, but mostly the credit for it is centered around that killing blow.

Me: Alright. So if I get the killing blow, then I get the achievement. I didn't get the achievement, therefore I didn't get the killing blow?

GM: That would be my conclusion for now. Unless you do it again and confirm that you got the killing blow., in which case we start over. :)

Me: Woo modus tollens.

GM: Yar.

Couple things. First, how cool is it that the GM is going to utilize ‘modus tollens’ in casual conversations now? Second, modus tollens is fucking bullshit especially with respect to computer programs within which bugs are not only possible, but are routinely found. “But wait!” you exclaim, “For what reason is it bullshit?” Well, here’s how modus tollens works:

If P, Then Q.
Not Q.
Therefore, Not P.

Or

If I masturbate, then I orgasm.
I did not orgasm.
Therefore, I did not masturbate.

Fucking bullshit, right? I mean, sure, if one provides particular constraints on the causal relation, or sneaks in a poorly formed biconditional, then one can horseshit one’s way into making modus tollens kinda vaguely maybe reasonable to fuckheaded dipshits whose comprehension of deterministic causal relations would most mirror Shia Labeouf’s comprehension of fuck-all-anything, but no such constraints exist within reality, for one, and World of Warcraft, for a number other than one. The fact that I did not receive Destruction Derby tells me nothing about whether or not I landed a killing blow given the possibility of situations other than a tight biconditional relation between killing blows and achievement acquisition.

It is conceivable, nay, possible that one could fulfill the requirements for this achievement, could land a killing blow, and not receive the achievement as a result of a server flummox, a programming error, magic, or any number of other causal agents.

And all I’m saying is that maybe (maybe) modus tollens isn’t the best troubleshooting technique unless one happens to be understanding the totality of reality from an Archimedean Point.

Cowboy Bebop - Session 7: Heavy Metal Queen

Heavy Metal Queen makes its case as an unusual episode immediately by opening with the sight of strangely long bulky ships pushing past each other in space to the unexpected tune of some thrashy metal. Compared to the series’ more traditional space-oriented openers in which sleek spaceships zip through colorful gates or drift unhurriedly through the stars as we listen to the low rumbling of engines and mellow jazz, this one seems to be taking us to a much louder, grungier, and more aggressive corner of the universe.

And although it may not seem so at first, it ends up being a corner that allows for a relatively lightweight palate cleanser of an episode as some relief after couple of dark and important ones. As always, there is more to the episode than what is on the surface, but still, just about the deepest question Queen has to ask is “hey, did you know there are space truckers?” This is just fine considering that we’ve had to shoot a child in the head and slit an old friend’s throat to get here.

The space trucker central to this episode is VT, a tough-looking woman with a strong distaste for bounty hunters accompanied by her cat Zeros and is – by way of her CB handle and taste in music – the eponymous Queen of Heavy Metal. The opening scenes in space conclude with some nicely understated exposition in the form of her docking at a truck stop and humoring an overconfident chump who quickly loses a few bucks in the long running game of trying to guess what her initials stand for. We get a small sense of her mysterious character in the way she adds his cash to the impressive stack of bills gathered, presumably, in small increments over the years from people who recognize her but don’t really know who she is.

After this, we follow VT into a little bar where we find a grouchy Spike, hungover and on the phone with Jet in a bathroom stall. They’re discussing this week’s bounty: an explosives expert / space trucker / Woody Allen look-alike named Decker. While Spike is complaining about not being able to get anywhere near guy, cut to Faye who is seconds away from spotting Decker at a diner appropriately called “Woody’s”.

The sequence that follows is another great example of how Faye’s sensual charm is effective only in a limited sense. As we see here and in her failure using similar tactics in Ballad of Fallen Angels, she has an undeniable power over men, but not all men, and certainly not over those directly relevant to her goals. In this case, she has no trouble whatsoever using her sex appeal to get the drop on the man she assumes to be Decker, but allows the real one to escape while doing so. Bad luck plays a significant role in this, granted, but the fact remains that her attempted manipulations have a surprisingly low success rate, regardless of precisely why.

Also noteworthy in this part of the episode comes when, in the middle of all of this, while Faye is slithering into the booth to get close enough to pull a gun on the wrong man, the scene suddenly returns to the bar, where a ditzy waitress is being harassed by some lascivious desperados. In the span of just a few moments, the depiction of a woman ensnaring a victim changes to a woman being victimized, and then immediately VT involves herself as the woman who comes to the waitress’ rescue. Briefly, both Faye and VT come across as powerful, albiet in different ways. This lasts right up until we discover that Faye has the wrong target, which leaves the only one of the three with any relevant power.

Going back to the earlier assumption that Heavy Metal Queen is going to be loud, grungy, and aggressive because of the title, subject matter, and background music, I would add that these qualities give the episode an air of brusque masculinity. Those sleek spaceships are absent from the opening shots because this episode is about phallic-looking space trucks full of straight lines, loud music and, as we discover later, pinup art and girly magazines. So, the fact that the most masculine of these three women emerges as the hero here is definitely in keeping with the manliness this episode is supposedly about.

To see the flipside of this particular brand of masculinity, though, look at the men involved during these scenes. The man in the diner who isn’t Decker comes across as pathetic and a little silly when he is discovered to be someone else (and what is he doing in a place apparently meant for kids?), and, well, “lascivious desperados” pretty aptly describes way the men at the truck stop present themselves. And then there’s Spike, who is too absorbed in concocting his hangover cure to pay any attention to the brawl going on right behind him at the bar. In short, the “real men” are all pathetic in their own way, plus horny and oblivious in specific cases.

They do redeem themselves here and there throughout the episode, however. Spike eventually helps VT route the desperados in the bar (although for selfish reasons). Jet’s handyman skills prove useful in getting both Spike and Faye back in the air with remarkable speed after their respective spacecraft are damaged. More notably, though, is Spike’s bold action that saves himself, Faye, and VT from the collapsing asteroid mine.

Not that he does it on his own, of course. All three of them work together here (a rarity for Spike and Faye) over the course of a pretty exciting escape that ends with Spike recognizing a photo VT keeps on her ship. It shows an exceedingly famous bounty hunter and a younger VT, which is all Spike needs to figure out VT's name.

I stand by the idea that this is a slight episode that mostly just provides a short break between weightier ones, but I would hesitate to write it off as insignificant. True, we'll never see VT again, nor will we hear of her husband, yet if there is any significance to this ending beyond the way it slightly broadens the Bebop universe and deepens Spike's involvement in it by some degree, I think it lies in VT's relationship to her past.

Like so many other characters in this series, she allows her past some amount of control over her present life. In her specific case, it does so to the extent that she is unreasonably bigoted against people like Spike, who is basically a decent sort of guy in a line of work she is so completely against that she turns on him as soon as she finds out what he does. It's hard to know if VT changes after meeting Spike and realizing that it's ok not to hate him, but I think the point is that the past is a strangely powerful thing that influences everyone, albiet in different ways. So even when Cowboy Bebop is sidetracked on an oddball episode like this one, it still has time to comment on the themes that run throughout the entire series.