The Road (2009)

Somber, gut-wrenching drama about a father and his son wandering a post-apocalyptic wasteland in search of food, warmth, and other "good guys." The cataclysm that wiped out humanity is not specified, but the whole world is covered in a grey, volcanic ash, implying either war or atmospheric depletion or both; either way it is incredibly dark and depressing, constantly. Viggo Mortensen is the determined father, who, in narration, confides to us that he is aware that he is close to death, and is being very particular about the legacy he leaves for his pre-teen son. Many of the remaining survivors have given into cannibalism, and so the father-son is aware that they cannot trust anyone except themselves (this leads to several tense encounters with seemingly benign strangers). My favorite stretch of the film involves flashbacks to before, and during, the world-ending catastrophe, with Viggo and the boy's mother (Charlize Theron) going from a happily married couple to a pair of nearly-insane, desperate parents; Theron's performance in this brief section ranks among the best work I've ever seen from her, and easily makes the biggest impression of the supporting characters (although Robert Duvall's appearance warrants mention). The subject matter lends itself well to the dark, apocalyptic imagery, which is more Fallout 3 than I Am Legend in its wastelands and burnt, grey and brown landscapes. John Hillcoat uses the same nihilistic tone (and composers, Nick Cave and Warren Ellis) that fueled his masterpiece, The Proposition, and it helps to achieve a sort of melancholy that few filmmakers can successfully maintain for the duration of a picture. In the end, the whole thing does not amount to much; because the film opts not to go the I Am Legend rote by throwing in third-act twists, and gratefully so, the narrative just sort of sputters out without any real finality. But as a portrait of a post-apocalyptic landscape and the loss of humanity that comes with it, it is slightly more successful than I Am Legend, but has more of its own unique identity.

Recommended for fans of post-apocalyptic goodies like Mad Max or A Boy and his Dog or Viggo, who turns in typically professional work. This did not blow me off my candy ass the way The Proposition did, but I do not expect Mr. Hillcoat to find a more riveting story for his signature slow-burn than that film had in the near future.

On The Beach (1959)

Dark, thoughtful Stanley Kramer classic about a community of survivors living out their last days in Australia after the Cold War has escalated to the point of irradiating the rest of the planet. The message here is written on its sleeve; there are many scenes of long monologuing about how inevitable the planet's nuclear devastation was and how it was in our nature, and blah blah blah, but it's actually all written very effectively. The characters in the film are thin, but archtypal; of the four leads, Gregory Peck, Fred Astaire, Eva Gardner, and Anthony Perkins, Astaire and Perkins make the most sympathetic impressions while Peck and Gardner's romance is more interesting than either of their separate performances. There is a lot of submarine work in the film, due to Peck and Perkins' characters Navy ranking, and it looks fantastic and legitimate; a long sequence where the sub looks for survivors and/or methods of dispersing the global radiation proves to cause tension even when the planet seems globally doomed from the start. The gloom over the whole thing proves to be the defining factor of the film; in an era, clearly represented by Peck and Gardner's presence as leads, where films were basically legally obligated to be cheerful, this film has a one-two punch of having an unbeatable foe (nuclear radiation brought on by winds) and very uncompromising personal struggles. The last shots of the film are incredibly haunting and provocative.

Highly Recommended for fans of Sci-Fi with a more realistic, down to earth vibe a la Children of Men, which this film shares similarities to. Of the three Stanley Kramer films I've seen (so far), two of them have been very powerful social, moral tales; of the two, this is the lesser film (Judgement at Nuremberg being the other, superior film), but still wholly successful at conveying its message in a thoughtful, dramatic manner.

The Martian Chronicles (1980)

Impressive, if compromised mini-series adaptation of Ray Bradbury's classic book about mankind's colonization of Mars and its literal and metaphysical implications. The through-line, created for the film, involves N.A.S.A. higher-up Rock Hudson as he launches two (of the novel's three) Mars expeditions, and then as he heads up the final, successful attempt to settle on Mars. The rest of the series involves adaptations of several of the anecdotal short stories contained in Bradbury's work, but relating them through the viewpoint of Hudson's astronaut character. While the stories that are adapted are, for the most part, fairly faithful to the source material, relaying our experience through a singular character removes some of the mysticism and parable of the novel, reducing it to a collection of odd occurrences and happenstance. The metaphysical and philosophical implications of mankind's unwanted presence on Mars are present, but diluted due to Hudson's hammy, unwarranted appearances. Even the 1980 TV-grade effects support the backbone of the stories more than the script, which was surprisingly written by Twilight Zone vet Richard Matheson (he might have had execs looking over his shoulder, which would account for the compromised structure). The cast ranges, for the most part, from competent to pitch-perfect, as Bernadette Peters and Bernie Casey perform.

Recommended for fans of Ray Bradbury or high-minded, philosphical sci-fi. Fans of the source material: if you understand that this is a crappy, early-80's TV version of the book, then it is actually an enjoyable, relatively reverent adaptation.

9 (2009)

Crazy ass post-apocalyptic animated flick about patchwork dolls built with souls to fight the machine plague that wiped out humanity. Elijah Wood voices 9, one of nine of the dolls, who wakes up to this dreadful, steampunk-esque world before stumbling upon his companions. They are all interesting, and have well-etched, if basic, characteristics. The voices are fairly nondescript, but that is more due to the sparse dialogue than the performances themselves. The visuals in the film convey the story magnificantly; one ponders if the film would be better had more of the film lacked spoken dialogue. The introduction to 9 before he finds John C. Reilly's 5, and the rest of the crew, seems brief. Wouldn't the 79-minute movie have benefited from a little more exposition and build-up to give the film a more timeless, wide appeal?

But alas, that would betray the spirit of the film, which is ruthless and dark, to the extent that the film is ostensibly not a children's movie. Characters die. Not only die, get their souls ripped out of their bodies. For good. It's intense shit, and the fact that it doesn't put itself on the pedestal by adding needless backstory and contrived emotional content is probably a blessing, not a curse. I suppose it is not a flaw when the only flaw is that I want more.

Highly Recommended for older fans of animation, steampunk, or solid action cinema. The visuals in this film are utterly phenomenal, but I knew that from the trailer; the competence of the story, however, was surprising.