9 (2009)

We live in a truly awful world. Not because we are headed for Armageddon but because the Culture Industry keeps feeding us the same plotlines and we keep gulping them down like starving pups suckling on the incontinent teets of the She Wolf.

I like that they put it into animation form, at least. Change the characters into non-humans, okay, but still give us Frodo, and the plotlines from LOTR and The Matrix and even WALL-E, and scores of other texts.  Still give us religous zealots who pervert ethics and morals. Still give us the dark, post-nuclear metaphor.  Is it even metaphor anymore? At some point this metaphor has transcended into something else because the C.I. has presented it to us so many times it has lost its original intent as metaphor or allegory. What is it? I don’t know. Falling on deaf ears, perhaps.  And by deaf I mean dumb.

It’s so sweet and romantic: the human soul that is the key to the survival of humanity. It’s also obvious.  But the world won’t remember us when we’re gone. It won’t care. And a memory of the fragments of the human soul can’t nourish the planet, like rain. Rain nourishes like rain.

Something that sticks out in this film, however, is that there is only ONE female character: #7 (Jennifer Connelly).  She’s the most agile one; the one who kicks the most butt. The one who comes in and saves the day in a narrative otherwise completely dominated by the male perspective.

I think perhaps the message I can glean from this film is that a world full of men caused the problem(?). That comes with a lot of baggage. The film also presents us with no solution, really, but to wait for life to start itself over(?).  Perhaps it is trying to tell us not to do this to ourselves in the first place. This would be obvious. But then again, maybe I am expecting too much from filmmakers. Metaphor is perhaps cliche and outdated.  Allusion is more appropriate perhaps:  all I know is that Frodo went into the fiery forge, Neo and the Architect were there in spirit, and WALL-E was left to pick up the pieces.  Oh yeah, and the flying, scouting machine had Edward’s Scissors-hands for a mouth. Thanks, Mr. Burton.

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