Saying there are two types of people that go see films is extremely
reductive but I’m prepared to argue in defence of this opinion because I
believe it to be true, and those types are as follows: One goes to the cinema in search of the tangible,
the myriad processes of artists, each a master in their respective field of
artistry and each giving their all in presenting a fashionable and coherent, if
not moving piece of cinematic beauty that (this particular type of viewer
hopes) will carve for itself - through its display of accepted and understood (some
would say expected) artistic tropes - a place in the pantheon of great films. A spot on the coveted and bustling Palme d’Or
pedestal.
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| Look how it bustles. |
This is a noble pursuit and one that can be quite satisfying
and worthy of a person’s life’s work or as muse for their own artistic
creations. But it is not the only pursuit,
and those following its path must be careful not to look down on others for
their individual and respective (and indeed, respect worthy) reasons for
attending the cinema, because those reasons are older than most anything else. It is easy for artists to only see art and
for the art minded to only see the lack of art where there is nothing but story. But story is all there is and if it were not
for story, art itself would not exist.
This brings me to the second type of cinema patron: the one
that goes in search of story. No
preconceptions, no artistic expectations or even education is necessary. The ability and need to hear a story unfold
before our eyes and ears could be the most fundamentally basic of all human
needs. No concept of art need be
presented to the listener. No history of
the evolution of sight, sound or texture in art need be understood. True and great story exists in spite of art and
fashion, not because of it. This finally
brings me to the point I've been avoiding.
The second type of cinema goer - be they fans of Michael Bay films or
those of Terrence Malick- goes to the
theatre and pays an exorbitant amount for fatty popcorn because they are
participants in the oldest ritual mankind knows. They go to worship their gods and be struck
by the awe of whatever unimaginable things are being projected over their
heads.
It is with is in mind that I turn my focus to “Pacific Rim”
and its place among the towering action films and summer blockbusters of
decades past. When Steven Spielberg stumbled
across the once unimaginable draw of the summer thrill ride, he drove the
pickaxe of his talent directly into the vein of ritualistic storytelling which
I’ll refer to herein simply as Myth. Man
is a Mythmaker. One could say it’s the
only thing we do better than finding new ways to kill each other. To tell a story is hardly ever to be a Mythmaker but simply to walk along the road of story that has been laid flat by
the sheer weight and magnitude of those great Myths that carved the path. Few of us can aspire to the Mythmakers of old
and fewer still will live to see the day when what they've done is placed
alongside the likes of Gilgamesh, Perseus, Thor or King Arthur. I would argue however, that rising to those
heights is the underlying and subconscious need which drives all those who
write or express through art. To add to
the Mythic spectrum that is the human psyche is what storytellers are meant to
do.
The phenomenon of the summer blockbuster can be viewed
simply as an economic trend; a way to capitalize on the adventurism of the
season and draw people to the theatre, or it can be seen as the continuation of
the tradition of Myth and heroic storytelling that we need to sustain and enrich
our near catatonic culture. The
intellectual content of the Myth is not what sustains it, nor is its artistic merit
of any relevance to its existence, but it lives in the baser emotions and in
the spirit in which it was conceived. To
inspire and to excite, to move those lazy heads up from blaring LED screens and
have those cynical eyes focus on something much greater and larger than
themselves, something that towers over the viewer and fills them with amazement
and wonder and pulls their consciousness through questions of humanity, life,
purpose and meaning.
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| Is that the new iPhone? |
There is a danger here. I'm well aware that to be taken in
and enveloped by Myth in its true form can easily be mistaken for the mindless
sleep that is so often a symptom of the
vapid and profit-driven “story-telling” which has infected so much of
the arts. The difference lies in the
level of interaction, the role of the audience in the story. If one is merely entertained, that does not
make Myth. If one is lulled into a
comfortable mental realm that surely does not make Myth. But if the listeners (and that may be the key
here: to listen, not watch) are actively involved, consciously present in what
is happening and fully or even partially aware of the Mythic structure and the
purpose of true storytelling, then the images on screen to not lull or pacify
but instead energize and inspire, maybe even enrage if that be the need.
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| Maybe not enrage. |
I came away from “Pacific Rim” with the indelible feeling
that I had witnessed a Myth on the level of Thor versus the Ice Giants or Daedalus
building the labyrinth. Impressed on me was the glowing understanding that the
message in the film was one of universal hope and triumph, power and collapse,
exploration and wonder and all framed within the image of forces far greater
than us battling it out on the stage of our world. Though, even that does not make “Pacific Rim”
Mythic. Even the participation I offered,
even the range of overwhelming emotion I felt (that I chose to feel by choosing
to live the story) could not define the story itself as Mythic. What defined it for me still remains
mysterious. It spoke to me and I
listened. I couldn't care less whether
it was a “good” film or not. I don’t
give a damn if the writing wasn't clever, or if the acting was on the
nose. It put me in touch with something
that people have been doing since the sun first rose over a pathetic huddling
of hairy beasts, gathered together for warmth through the night. It made me feel like a 5 year old boy, shivering
by a fire, being told how Thor slept in the opening of a giant’s glove. I couldn't scoff and say “giants aren't real!”. I wasn't about to laugh and point out that a
creature that size would have no use for a glove. I was too busy witnessing us, people telling
a story that spoke to our present situation in metaphor and wonder. I was too busy taking part in the evolution
of Myth.
This is our time.
These are our stories. These are
the Myths we tell each other in company, in huddled masses, all experiencing the
warm glow of storytelling through the night.
“Pacific Rim” is a positive and unselfconscious event that I'm proud to
say I witnessed and took part in. It made
me feel alive when most go to the cinema to feel the opposite.
