And so reality has caught up to the latest so-called futurist movie: “2012.” Even more so than “Independence Day” or “The Day After Tomorrow,” director Roland Emmerich staked a highly destructive concept on the future. Emmerich’s unofficial Calendar Trilogy capped off an inconsistent banquet of chaos much like capping off a real banquet with a forty of King Cobra.
The first act of the movie introduces so many characters that the whole ordeal runs like a montage, helped by the fact that destruction is imminent and so the audience need not fear the extended presence of flat characters. Perhaps an infinite montage is the only way to capture our world in some viewable way, which would then make the peripheral and background characters all that more realistic. Indeed, if everyone is just an extra in a stranger’s life, then witnessing the citywide decimation provided in “2012” is no longer just a special-effects showcase. No, “2012” is the most philosophical movie that was originally a futuristic movie but has since turned into a period-piece since Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
Once one gets past the drab introductions, we are subjected to teasingly minor destruction—not unlike a Mexican restaurant that brings you a third helping of chips and salsa before bringing out the main course. This feeling of “get on with it already”—which I may have actually yelled—exposed my own misanthropy after only two beers. I wanted the cities to crumble, I wanted the hordes of people I’ve never seen to get smashed, crunched, launched or washed away.
I have often said that my number one goal in life is to become the world’s oldest person. This can happen with my own health or being around for the end game, preferably the latter. If I can only watch a football game for five minutes, I want to see the last five minutes. I want to say, “hey, I’ve got pretty good timing.” I want to see the culmination of humanity’s efforts, and then judge the presentation. Egocentric? Perhaps. But where is a more modest place to admit one’s own ambitions than in the most public sphere, here, online? This comes back around to me finally watching the heroes of the story drive a limousine through Los Angeles with an earthquake tailgating them. “Go faster,” I screamed at the enlarging crack. The neutrinos (or whatever) that destroy L.A. do a pretty good job but they fail to capture and flatten John Cusack and some guy with prominent cheekbones (meaning he’ll die by the end).
"Go neutrinos! That'll teach those script readers for rejecting my screenplay!"
When I thought the characters were done for, I dropped the remote in celebration. By the damnedest luck, a button was hit and I heard a voice. A German voice, laughing. “God?” I asked. No, it was not God. It was the Director’s Commentary for “2012.” Roland Emmerich was explaining the nuances of his movie. I had found a gold mine.
After movies and shows with black Presidents repeatedly turned to stories about major disasters, such as “24,” “Deep Impact,” “The Fifth Element,” “Idiocracy,” “Head of State” and “The Event,” I always found it a curious decision that fictional Americans would elect Danny Glover. According to Roland Emmerich in the commentary, the character was originally a white woman but was changed after the 2008 Iowa primary—which the most obsessive politicos will remember that Barack Obama (black guy) surprisingly beat out Hilary Clinton (white woman). Oddly, the fictional president has only one daughter (ala Chelsea Clinton?) and—here Emmerich missed the best social commentary—the President is a widower. Would losing a spouse make Hilary more elect-able? The movie “2012” says so.
Emmerich goes on to point out that government conspiracies could exist because some people believe dying is better than being told you’re going to die. Furthermore, some people may kill to keep a secret, kill to learn a secret, die to keep a secret or die to learn a secret. This all adds up to humanity arriving at our most collectively suicidal evolution. A strange argument to be sure, but one I can not immediately dismiss.
Other, smaller, tidbits are similarly staggering; such as, Cusack’s character (“Jackson Curtis”) being named in honor of rapper 50-Cent (a.k.a. “Curtis Jackson”). Even more audacious, Oliver Platt’s character is a government official who argues for misinforming the public in order to save lives and is named “Carl Anheuser.” This name was taken from the beer distributor Anheuser-Busch--which pronounces “Busch” like “Bush”…as in President George W.
Emmerich defends himself and how the studio pressured him into creating a shorter film with more explosions, especially early on. He also apologizes for the puns and the tongue-in-cheek destruction of Las Vegas’s Eiffel Tower (as derided in a previous post). He points out ridiculously obscure references to classic films such as “North by Northwest” and “Jaws”—references which I can’t remember, didn't notice the first time, or still didn't notice the second time.
My bafflement continued when Emmerich literally said, “If we didn’t destroy the White House, people would have thought we were afraid.” What people? Afraid of what? I don’t know! Also, apparently, all of the Chinese actors in the film were supposed to play Tibetan workers, which meant several had to learn their Tibetan lines phonetically—a detail that’d make Wes Anderson roll his eyes. Emmerich later draws emphasis on the heroes risking their lives, or not, for the sake of global billionaires or the emigrant workers.
The director-titled “Billionaires’ Revolt” scene showcases the monetary elite running, screaming and otherwise acting like the crazed mobs of nobodies the rich people had spent most of the movie paying out the nose to avoid. Some people just can’t die with dignity and Emmerich made clear that such distinction is not related to wealth or nationality. Fortunately (?) the richest, greediest, most selfish (in that they kept the ultimate secret) and exclusive category of people are saved and so demonstrates how, at least American, leaders would select 100,000 people if that was all that could be saved.
Only moments before lamenting on humanist priorities, moral ambiguity and an inevitable labor crisis, Emmerich admits he takes a certain glee in destroying religious structures. The trailer-condensed symbolism isn’t enough for Emmerich, who elaborates that only after the institutions are destroyed can the characters find “internal spirituality.” I mean…wow. Religiously, “2012” may be on par with “Seventh Seal” and other far more suspiciously intellectual (or foreign) films. In Emmerich’s view, you shouldn’t pray in a big church because it just might fall on you, metaphorically. And literally.
Artistically—and yes, that has just become a classification of discussion about “2012”—Emmerich cracked open his own mind and said how much of “2012” was written around various dream-like images. In fact, the main plot point came from the question, how does a movie promise the end of the world? One answer would be the visual of water flowing over the Himalayas, the Roof of the World. Secondary inspirations included Air Force One underwater, titling an entire city and exploding a national park.
In a world where Michael Bay can brag about how he makes movies for (the dumbest of) teenage boys, there is another voice; a voice that says big, studio, blockbuster movies are the best films to articulate a message advocating world peace and the steps necessary to get there. Smirk if you must, but next to Bay, Emmerich is Akira Freaking Kurasawa.
The problem with classics is that everybody knows they are classics. To criticize a classic ranges between futile and obnoxious, with the possible extent of offensive. Similarly, simply slapping the “classic” label on a film without the support of millions of others makes the effort irrelevant. Still, there’s no reason to think only Oscar nominees—annually categorized as modern classics—will age into the ultimate pantheon.
The predictions surrounding the year 2012 will be depressingly dated in a year, but now I’m not so sure the film by the same name will be.
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