I think this has to be written. Something beyond me compels it, an indescribable force that drove me to open Wordpad and immediately start pounding keys. I have so many statements I want to make, I am not entirely sure how to cohesively string them together and still preserve the necessary amount of comprehensibility. I am not even sure that comprehensibility is a word. Is it? I don't know! It's crazy, I know, but bear with me. Dictionary.com says that it is, so I am reassured, once again, in my placement of nouns.
As a personal matter, let me just outright say, here and now, that I do not, in so many words, hate The Matrix. I have a reputation, among those who know me, of promptly ascertaining a pained, strained expression on my countenance at the very mention of the aforementioned movie. Why this is, however, is not due to the movie, itself, but due to an issue I will discuss, later.
Okay . . . The Matrix. Where do I start? The first one would be a sensible location to launch my tirade, I suppose. Let me recount my experience with The Matrix, way back in . . . Whenever it was, 2001 . . . I liked it. I enjoyed it. I felt that the cinematography was executed in such a fashion that didn't detract from the experience of the rest of the movie. The computer graphics were some of, if not the, best ever, woven in with virtual fluidity. It was action-packed, indeed.
I found The Matrix a highly satisfying action/sci-fi movie. I did not dwell on the shaky and ludicrous plot, I did not draw a critical eye to the lackluster acting abilities of the cast, nor did I attempt to dissect the script for themes, symbolism, or philosophy. Why? Because I watched The Matrix for what it was, a high-budget simulated kick-in-the-pants, per se; an excuse to shut your mind off and be blown away by special effects and Hollywood gadgetry. It did not make me think, it did not explore any idea I found fascinating or enlighteningly, it didn't bring up a premise or concept that I had not seen, read, or heard elsewhere. Much like Demolition Man, Minority Report, or even Terminator, for that matter, it was an action-based movie with the backdrop of a stupid futuristic setting that allowed for the director/producer/writer to masturbate modern movie technology.
You do not hire Keanu Reeves to read for a role that is, by any stretch of the imagination, intellectual. You hire Keanu Reeves to, uh . . . Be Keanu Reeves. Honestly, I'm not sure why a casting director hires Keanu Reeves. Is he cheap? Is he lonely and sad, writing gothic poetry in his mother's basement between movie contracts? Does the sight of his audition attempts illicite pity and tears of sympathy for the poor, talent-deprived boy?
Ahem, I digress, however, about Mr. Reeves and his deficiences as an actor. Let me get to a point that I have been making veiled allusions towards. I enjoyed The Matrix until the moment I started reading about it, hearing other people talk about it, and seeing it everywhere and anywhere and in my underwear drawer. I do not, for the life of me, comprehend what other people are talking about when they make their commentary about The Matrix. They say things like, "It has high-brow intellectual content that really makes one question the nature of reality," and "The social conotations of The Matrix really did bring a new light on the world for me."
HUH?!
Wait . . . What? I can not wrap my head around these people and their . . . Words. The Matrix . . . Intelligent? Thought-provoking? Mentally-stirring? NO! No! I must have seen a different Matrix, one that didn't contain ninety-percent gunfire and explosions. There must be a new, previously-unreleased Stanley Kubrick film that is going by the same title, coincidentally.
Hold on, though . . . These . . . These are the people who watched Eyes Wide Shut and fell asleep. This is coming from the same breed of people who would never, ever sit through Pi. They must mean the same Matrix. They . . . They took it seriously? No, that's impossible!
It's true! The Matrix, complete with Keanu Reeves and the same level of philosophy found on the back of cereal boxes, is being touted as an intellectual film. People think that the idea of, "There is no spoon," and "Everything tastes like chicken, because chicken tastes like everything," is stimulating. The tried-and-true premise of a far-fetched future society where machines have dominated the human race thanks to the folly of its arrogance and overextension of technology is being treated as . . . New? Admittedly, The Matrix does take the nickel-and-dime idea in a more elaborate direction, because of all the money spent on the CGI and effects, but there is nothing in The Matrix that can't be found a good episode of The Twilight Zone.
As far as I am concerned, The Matrix is what happens when you take the structural elements and character types of Star Wars, the very rudimentary and basic ideas behind Planet of the Apes, a few billion dollars, and stick them in a big, flashy, gaudy Hollywood blender. However, I seem to be, for the most part, standing alone on this opinion. There is a vast horde of homo sapian sapians who think The Matrix is a mental rollercoaster.
I'm not really, one-hundred-percent positive that I'm not just being overly harsh on society and the entertainment industry, or if I'm just being a well-read, intelligent, objective person. Maybe my view on the public reaction to The Matrix is an extension of how I believe that our culture is reaching a literal slump and not enough people crack copies of classic literature, anymore. There are so few people well-versed on Marlowe, Milton, Shakespeare, Burgess, Orwell, Dostoyevsky, Conrad, Thoreau, Dickens, Cervantes, Wells, et cetera, et cetera, that badly-done rehashing of old, classic, done-and-done-some-more ideas is acceptable to the majority of Americans -- Not simply acceptable, but outstanding.
I've got a movie pitch for you, Hollywood. In a distant future, genetic engineering has culminated to an apex so efficient and perfected that factories may produce different levels of developed human beings, rated on a scale based on the first five Greek alphabet letters, with slight variants thereof rated by -plus and -minus suffixes. These humans, after production, then go out and are schooled to fit their programmed roles in society, and in the moments that they are not fulfilling their function in the State, they remain in a drug-induced haze of happy colours and sounds. Let's call the drug they use to produce these effects . . . Hmmm, Soma. The story begins, however, with the classic device of a literal intrusion upon the status quo, where a scientist brings back a willing boy from a primitive clan who is strangely well-read in Shakespeare due to a collection of his plays and poetry he found by a fluke. The movie will focus on this young, teenage boy's vantage point on the modern, well-oiled machine of society that has been built on the bones of democracy. The title of the movie will come from a phrase he utters upon his arrival in the city, derived from a line from Hamlet.
Twenty dollars to the schmuck who can name the elongated reference I just made.
I honestly think of that movie was made, and enough money was pumped into it to make the effects big and flashy, it would be the next Matrix. Except this movie wouldn't have a loosely-developed foundation, it would be based on a very solid and detailed piece of literature. But, who cares? Nowadays, who really gives a damn that what we are spoonfed in the movie theatres is trite or original, creative or redundant? Not the people who find The Matrix a thought-provoking and intelligent piece of cinematography.
Now, that was quite a tangent, wouldn't you say?
Let me get back on a less of a ranting track. Back to the first thing I mentioned: how I am prone to expressions of aching pain upon the mention of The Matrix. Like I said before, this is not due to the movie, itself, as I stated above, I found it enjoyable for what I thought it was. (I don't think I need to further expound upon the difference between what I thought it was and what everybody else thought it was.) What makes me cringe is everything I have seen, heard, and read about it since the moment I left the theatre after seeing it. If I truly was going to enjoy The Matrix, I had to have been dwelling in a cave in a mountain, exited long enough to go to the theatre and, in a full-out sprint, without paying attention to the rest of the world, returned to my cave, afterward. Then, then . . . I would have completely fond memories of that which is associated with The Matrix. Now, though, because of the explosive overexposure which I received in regards to everything related to The Matrix, I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it, I don't want to see another camera pan around a woman suspended in mid-air in a psuedo-Karate-Kid-Whooping-Crane position. That was a lot of hyphens in that last sentence, huh?
The Matrix Failure Rating: 33%.
The Matrix: Reloaded Failure Rating: 45%.
Planet of the Apes Failure Rating: 0%.
The Matrix in Reduced Row Echelon Form via Gaussian Elimination Procedure
or Uses of Linear Algebra Out of Context
. . . or Entirely Irrelevant Subsubtitles Are Fun for the Entire Family
As a personal matter, let me just outright say, here and now, that I do not, in so many words, hate The Matrix. I have a reputation, among those who know me, of promptly ascertaining a pained, strained expression on my countenance at the very mention of the aforementioned movie. Why this is, however, is not due to the movie, itself, but due to an issue I will discuss, later.
Okay . . . The Matrix. Where do I start? The first one would be a sensible location to launch my tirade, I suppose. Let me recount my experience with The Matrix, way back in . . . Whenever it was, 2001 . . . I liked it. I enjoyed it. I felt that the cinematography was executed in such a fashion that didn't detract from the experience of the rest of the movie. The computer graphics were some of, if not the, best ever, woven in with virtual fluidity. It was action-packed, indeed.
I found The Matrix a highly satisfying action/sci-fi movie. I did not dwell on the shaky and ludicrous plot, I did not draw a critical eye to the lackluster acting abilities of the cast, nor did I attempt to dissect the script for themes, symbolism, or philosophy. Why? Because I watched The Matrix for what it was, a high-budget simulated kick-in-the-pants, per se; an excuse to shut your mind off and be blown away by special effects and Hollywood gadgetry. It did not make me think, it did not explore any idea I found fascinating or enlighteningly, it didn't bring up a premise or concept that I had not seen, read, or heard elsewhere. Much like Demolition Man, Minority Report, or even Terminator, for that matter, it was an action-based movie with the backdrop of a stupid futuristic setting that allowed for the director/producer/writer to masturbate modern movie technology.
You do not hire Keanu Reeves to read for a role that is, by any stretch of the imagination, intellectual. You hire Keanu Reeves to, uh . . . Be Keanu Reeves. Honestly, I'm not sure why a casting director hires Keanu Reeves. Is he cheap? Is he lonely and sad, writing gothic poetry in his mother's basement between movie contracts? Does the sight of his audition attempts illicite pity and tears of sympathy for the poor, talent-deprived boy?
Ahem, I digress, however, about Mr. Reeves and his deficiences as an actor. Let me get to a point that I have been making veiled allusions towards. I enjoyed The Matrix until the moment I started reading about it, hearing other people talk about it, and seeing it everywhere and anywhere and in my underwear drawer. I do not, for the life of me, comprehend what other people are talking about when they make their commentary about The Matrix. They say things like, "It has high-brow intellectual content that really makes one question the nature of reality," and "The social conotations of The Matrix really did bring a new light on the world for me."
HUH?!
Wait . . . What? I can not wrap my head around these people and their . . . Words. The Matrix . . . Intelligent? Thought-provoking? Mentally-stirring? NO! No! I must have seen a different Matrix, one that didn't contain ninety-percent gunfire and explosions. There must be a new, previously-unreleased Stanley Kubrick film that is going by the same title, coincidentally.
Hold on, though . . . These . . . These are the people who watched Eyes Wide Shut and fell asleep. This is coming from the same breed of people who would never, ever sit through Pi. They must mean the same Matrix. They . . . They took it seriously? No, that's impossible!
It's true! The Matrix, complete with Keanu Reeves and the same level of philosophy found on the back of cereal boxes, is being touted as an intellectual film. People think that the idea of, "There is no spoon," and "Everything tastes like chicken, because chicken tastes like everything," is stimulating. The tried-and-true premise of a far-fetched future society where machines have dominated the human race thanks to the folly of its arrogance and overextension of technology is being treated as . . . New? Admittedly, The Matrix does take the nickel-and-dime idea in a more elaborate direction, because of all the money spent on the CGI and effects, but there is nothing in The Matrix that can't be found a good episode of The Twilight Zone.
As far as I am concerned, The Matrix is what happens when you take the structural elements and character types of Star Wars, the very rudimentary and basic ideas behind Planet of the Apes, a few billion dollars, and stick them in a big, flashy, gaudy Hollywood blender. However, I seem to be, for the most part, standing alone on this opinion. There is a vast horde of homo sapian sapians who think The Matrix is a mental rollercoaster.
I'm not really, one-hundred-percent positive that I'm not just being overly harsh on society and the entertainment industry, or if I'm just being a well-read, intelligent, objective person. Maybe my view on the public reaction to The Matrix is an extension of how I believe that our culture is reaching a literal slump and not enough people crack copies of classic literature, anymore. There are so few people well-versed on Marlowe, Milton, Shakespeare, Burgess, Orwell, Dostoyevsky, Conrad, Thoreau, Dickens, Cervantes, Wells, et cetera, et cetera, that badly-done rehashing of old, classic, done-and-done-some-more ideas is acceptable to the majority of Americans -- Not simply acceptable, but outstanding.
I've got a movie pitch for you, Hollywood. In a distant future, genetic engineering has culminated to an apex so efficient and perfected that factories may produce different levels of developed human beings, rated on a scale based on the first five Greek alphabet letters, with slight variants thereof rated by -plus and -minus suffixes. These humans, after production, then go out and are schooled to fit their programmed roles in society, and in the moments that they are not fulfilling their function in the State, they remain in a drug-induced haze of happy colours and sounds. Let's call the drug they use to produce these effects . . . Hmmm, Soma. The story begins, however, with the classic device of a literal intrusion upon the status quo, where a scientist brings back a willing boy from a primitive clan who is strangely well-read in Shakespeare due to a collection of his plays and poetry he found by a fluke. The movie will focus on this young, teenage boy's vantage point on the modern, well-oiled machine of society that has been built on the bones of democracy. The title of the movie will come from a phrase he utters upon his arrival in the city, derived from a line from Hamlet.
Twenty dollars to the schmuck who can name the elongated reference I just made.
I honestly think of that movie was made, and enough money was pumped into it to make the effects big and flashy, it would be the next Matrix. Except this movie wouldn't have a loosely-developed foundation, it would be based on a very solid and detailed piece of literature. But, who cares? Nowadays, who really gives a damn that what we are spoonfed in the movie theatres is trite or original, creative or redundant? Not the people who find The Matrix a thought-provoking and intelligent piece of cinematography.
Now, that was quite a tangent, wouldn't you say?
Let me get back on a less of a ranting track. Back to the first thing I mentioned: how I am prone to expressions of aching pain upon the mention of The Matrix. Like I said before, this is not due to the movie, itself, as I stated above, I found it enjoyable for what I thought it was. (I don't think I need to further expound upon the difference between what I thought it was and what everybody else thought it was.) What makes me cringe is everything I have seen, heard, and read about it since the moment I left the theatre after seeing it. If I truly was going to enjoy The Matrix, I had to have been dwelling in a cave in a mountain, exited long enough to go to the theatre and, in a full-out sprint, without paying attention to the rest of the world, returned to my cave, afterward. Then, then . . . I would have completely fond memories of that which is associated with The Matrix. Now, though, because of the explosive overexposure which I received in regards to everything related to The Matrix, I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it, I don't want to see another camera pan around a woman suspended in mid-air in a psuedo-Karate-Kid-Whooping-Crane position. That was a lot of hyphens in that last sentence, huh?
The Matrix Failure Rating: 33%.
The Matrix: Reloaded Failure Rating: 45%.
Planet of the Apes Failure Rating: 0%.
EOF
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
5:21 PM
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