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Strange Days—it’s really more about the sociology of human interaction than anything else.
Soylent Green—it’s essentially a sociological and economic phenomenon.
Blade Runner—now that is a piece of cinema that functions more like a sociological study than a mere sci-fi flick. It’s dense, layered, and frankly, a bit haunting when you really sit with it.
Mad Max—which, if we’re being honest, is basically just a sociological case study at this point—is exactly what happens once crude oil hits that $500 mark back in 2015.
Waterworld—it’s essentially a sociological and ecological autopsy performed on what our future might look like once the global warming mess finally catches up to us and ruins everything.
So, *Jumper* is the latest flick hitting theaters, based on that controversial novel by Steven Gould—blah, blah, blah. I’ve dropped the trailer link below.
The whole point of my post is this:
If you ask me, *Jumper*—just like Gould's book, really—is nothing more than a blatant rip-off of Dubravko Jelacic Buzimskog " Martin protiv CIA-e i KGB-a" (you know, that classic tale of *Martin vs. the CIA and the FBI*).
If any of you old-timers remember that story from back in the day—and then take a look at this trailer—you might just find yourself nodding along with me.🙂
http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/jumper/lrg.html
It’s certainly not winning any Academy Awards, but honestly—it stands head and shoulders above your typical run-of-the-mill offerings. It actually turned out to be much better than I had initially anticipated, so... there you have it.
This movie is an absolute masterpiece.
"Errr... I feel like we ought to... errr... initiate some sort of movement... toward a resolution..."
LMAO
I think this Film is absolutely brilliant. Garland wrote a script that isn't exactly easy to grasp on the first pass—it’s dense—but everything clicks perfectly into place once you start analyzing the visual and auditory cues woven throughout the entire story.
SPOILER
The reason the first Icarus veered off course is because the captain—Pinbacker, the guy we see at the end—murdered his entire crew. Why? The answer is actually quite simple: he wanted to reach God. That captain is essentially a personification of humanity's drive toward perfection, just... taken to a terrifying, warped extreme. He was given a mission to save mankind, but in his flawed, very human reasoning, he drifted too far from the concept of humanism. He realized that by *not* saving Earth, he would remain the last living human ever. The systems onboard Icarus I allowed him to pull this off, so he did it. It was all part of his plan to reach Godly perfection as the final man in Space. He didn't care about the welfare of the species; he wanted to sacrifice humanity for his own sake. He shut down the computers, killed his crew, and began living in isolation, just waiting. Time and the cooling Sun, which is effectively killing off humanity, were working in his favor.
Since he clearly expected a follow-up mission to arrive, he set a beacon, calculating that human nature would inevitably draw that next mission off its intended path. And that’s exactly what happened. When Icarus II attempted to rendezvous with Icarus I, it was Pinbacker who forced them apart. He murdered Trey and carried his madness over to Icarus II.
The psychologist on Icarus II serves as the perfect foil to Pinbacker. Searle is a man who has stared into the greatness of the Sun and realized the insignificance of an individual, yet he managed to hold onto his humanism. He understands the vital importance of the individual when faced with the vastness of Space, infinite energy, and the necessity of saving everyone. He and the captain are two sides of the same coin. This is why he chooses to sacrifice himself for humanity and surrender himself to God.
Then there's the young physicist, Capa—the most crucial character in the whole thing. He is a truly Jesus-like figure. The tropes are laid out from the beginning, though they don't fully coalesce until the end—the blue eyes, the stubble, the hair. His courage is constantly being questioned, yet there's no doubt that his role in the mission is the most significant. Even if there are more dominant or visible personalities around him, it's clear from the start that Captain Kane is the only one who truly recognizes his importance. By the end of the Film, everyone else finally catches up.
In the final moments, it’s just him, Cassie, and Pinbacker left on the module. After space and time warp during the acceleration into the core of the Sun—which explains the shifting dimensions and the axis flip on the module itself—Capa initiates fission. This is where the internal logic of the Film reaches its peak: it shows that the conscious sacrifice of a pure soul is the only path to Godly providence. When you have the God-created energy of the solar flare flooding the module meeting the man-made power of atoms ready to split, Capa stands right between those two forces, momentarily transcending existence itself. In that instant, he realizes that God is with him, rewarding his willingness to open his heart and sacrifice everything to save humanity. He reaches toward God, steps into the light, and that's it.
For me, the Film is genuinely great, specifically because of the storytelling. It’s just a shame that certain parts felt rushed; I honestly think a Director's Cut would have fixed quite a lot of that. And yeah, it's a pity a story this good wasn't handled by a different director.
Caught it last night. AMC, naturally, had to insist on an intermission for the necessary sustenance of exhausted viewers who can't sit still for 160 minutes—but I suppose we’ve grown accustomed to that nonsense by now. Regardless.
A dark masterpiece. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen a story told with such compelling narrative depth and brilliant cinematography. I was genuinely impressed by the attention to detail; nothing is spoon-fed to you like the mindless drivel found in most modern cinema. Instead, the film trusts the audience to connect the dots and grasp the cause-and-effect relationships on their own terms. It’s a masterstroke how this thread weaves through the entire runtime, demanding active participation if you want to make sense of the whole picture.
The average viewer might find certain nuances and connotations a bit murky, but thanks to the standard American education system, anyone over the age of 28 should be able to recall enough history to contextualize the era being depicted—assuming they actually paid attention in class rather than spending their time terrorizing teachers. In fact, Roth has once again penned a script that is frankly dizzying because of how tightly it adheres to actual historical facts.
The direction is superb; I truly hope a Director's cut eventually surfaces, as it’s painfully obvious from the opening sequences that certain elements were trimmed. de Niro delivered behind the lens at a high level, just as he did with his minor role. The rest of the cast is decent, with the exception of young Edward, whom I simply cannot stand—though perhaps that's just my personal bias regarding his particular aesthetic. Angelina is Angelina, and it was actually refreshing to see her in a film where she—wait for it—actually acts. Even Damon is tolerable, though the makeup department could have aged him up a bit more for the final act, but whatever. Thank God they avoided the mustache trap; someone clearly learned from the ridiculousness seen in "The Aviator."
Aside from a few trivial inconsistencies mentioned on IMDb—which are utterly inconsequential in any meaningful way—The Good Shepherd is easily the best film I’ve seen in years, in every conceivable sense.
All those critics whining about the pacing or claiming it's "slow"—they couldn't be more wrong. A narrative this thorough demands even more time than the final cut provides. This phenomenal cast, the top-tier storytelling, and the unwavering commitment to real events and people (despite the use of pseudonyms) deserves immense praise in an era where even the supposed "smart" majority of films consist mostly of directorial bloat, script failures, or blatant rip-offs of Asian cinema that somehow snag undeserved Oscars.