Time Travelling X-Men

Time travel is such a tricky plot device. While offering much potential, it also presents many risks. Firstly, the philosophical problems surrounding time travel are enormous. Speculation abounds as to the future effects of changing the past. Perhaps one small change of the past irrevocably and completely changes the future. Like a pebble thrown into an ocean: At first there are mere ripples, but gradually these ripples become waves until a tsunami of change crashes into the future. Perhaps the future is a fate that cannot be changed. Fate, as it were, 'auto-corrects' any changes of the past so as to keep the future on its pre-determined course. Perhaps time travel is somehow incorporated into both past and future. A person's time travel must have already occurred and that person's choice to time travel again is simply part of an endless loop of time. Finally, perhaps the only way to change the future is by changing a historically significant person or event (e.g., killing Hitler or stopping the September 11th attacks).

One can only speculate about time travel, most likely because it is a philosophical impossibility. But this does not prevent script writers from reverting to time travel as the catchall plot device that can accomplish the impossible. And unfortunately, it is a plot device that often fails. X-Men: Days of Future Past ("DOFP") is a prime example of this failure. Now don't get me wrong, DOFP is an enjoyable movie. DOFP features a stunning cast and many excellent set pieces. Watching lightning-fast Quicksilver break into the Pentagon and free Magneto was particularly exhilarating. Seeing shape-shifting Mystique* 'become' other characters, such as the villainous dwarf Bolivar Task, is always entertaining. I was also impressed that the movie managed to weave together a wide array of characters and an extremely complex plot into a single cohesive show. Nevertheless, the perils of a time-travel plot took the emotional punch out of the movie.

The movie begins with giant robots called Sentinels attacking a mutant outpost. These man-made Sentinels have perfected the art of killing not only mutants, but also any human who has the potential of becoming a mutant. Unfortunately, this means that the human (and mutant) race is on the verge of extinction and that the world has become a desolate wasteland. Professor X decides that the only way to save the future is by returning to the past and stamping out the Sentinels before they are created. Of course, Wolverine is chosen for this mission.

Skipping ahead somewhat, the movie ends with the Sentinels on the verge of killing Professor X and his remaining cohort of mutants. And right before the Sentinels accomplish their mission, the past is successfully changed and the future becomes a peaceful present. No loss, no tragedy. Rather, all is made right in the world by the power of time travel. Nifty, eh? Or simply anticlimactic? I believe the latter. In fiction, time travel should not be a plot device for relieving history of its tragedy or characters of their past mistakes. Tragedy and sin are essential components of literature (and life). Without them, fiction becomes but fluff. The philosophical problems of time travel abound. However, its literary problems are perhaps more perilous for for modern cinema and television. While not ruining DOFP, these problems certainly prevent it from becoming great.

*As an aside, I can't decide if Jennifer Lawrence is appropriate as Mystique. Mystique's appearance is amphibious. Her blue skin reminds me of the scales of a fish and her yellow eyes are like those of a reptile. The human actor playing Mystique should also be somewhat reptilian and amphibious; beautiful but not quite human. Unfortunately, Jennifer Lawrence is adorably human. She has a rounded appearance and an expression that modulates between a steady seriousness and a stifled sadness. And yet, her acting skills seem to make up for her physical mismatch with the character. All the same, I think Rebecca Romjin was a better pick for the part.

Christianity & Democracy: Fallacious Optimism

In his preface, Maritain writes: "This little book will perhaps seem too optimistic to readers of quick judgment." Perhaps I am of quick judgment, but I found Martian to be both optimistic and dangerously naïve. This may be forgivable; Maritain wrote these books towards the end of World War II, when a devastated world was searching for a new hope. These books constitute an aspirational political philosophy; they are not grounded in firm reality but rather in evanescent hopes for a utopian future. Jacques Maritain believes that humanity is marching towards a democratic future that will uphold the rights and dignity of man. He believes that democracy is a necessary consequence of the Gospel. As Jesus preached the equality and liberty of all men, so much governments respect equality and liberty by granting universal suffrage. Maritain also believes that the natural law, from which all rights flow, ultimately (though not immediately) requires democracy.

I admire Maritain's fervor. He is an excellent Christian and Thomist. He gives superb explanations of the philosophical origins of rights and man's relationship with the State. But throughout these works, Maritain did not once mention the doctrine of original sin. He seems to have forgotten that as human goodness and morality progress, so do sin and error. Moreover, he is far too trusting of the morality of the 'common man'. Perhaps this review is too harsh. Maritain was part of a generation of faithful Catholics that believed in the United Nations and the European Union. They thought that charters of 'rights' would shed Gospel light on this world. Could they see what these rights now entail, they might regret their earlier optimism. Christians should and must be optimists, but not about the affairs of this world.

Robocop (1987)

As the technical prowess and political power of corporations have grown, so have the people's fear and suspicion of corporate governance. Robocop brings these issues to the fore. In an unknown time of anarchic crime, a large corporation intends to privatize the police force by installing bionic police officers throughout the city. Robocop, a resurrected police officer, is the first of this kind. He is a machine and yet retains some of his humanity. As the movie progresses, he gradually rediscovers this humanity until he overthrows his corporate makers, who, of course, are not interested in people's safety as much as profits. The movie is hopeful: Corporations can never eradicate human morality and free will.

What makes Robocop great is its streamlined and to-the-point editing. The movie wastes nary a second. Every scene briefly illustrates a plot point or an action scene, and then moves on. The movie even ends at its climax, having no time for post-climatic sentiment and catharsis. Despite being thirty years old, the movie still feels fresh and futuristic, perhaps because it doesn't rely on special effects so much as hard metal and fiery explosions. Robocop is a classic. It brings up interesting issues that TV shows are still exploring (e.g., Continuum), all while being very entertaining.

Dark Tower: Wizard & Glass

Midway through the Dark Tower series, Stephen King breaks off from his fantastical-science-fiction story in order to to spin an Old Western yarn. King writes of Roland of Gilead (our grizzled protagonist) and his coming-of-age adventure in the dusty town of Mejis. The story features shootouts, witches, politics, and magic. But the focal point throughout is Roland's love for Susan. And this is where the story falters. King himself writes: "True love, like any other strong and addicting drug, is boring... As with any other strong drug, true love is really only interesting to those who become its prisoners."

Unfortunately, King didn't learn from his own wisdom. Roland and Susan's love is soppy and sentimental, and the sexual escapades make this book feel tawdry. But despite this, the Wizard and Glass captures much of the excitement that makes this series compelling. There are wizards and enchanted balls; palaces and gunslingers; and the ever-present sense that the "world has moved on." Also, King can describe action scenes with wonderful finesse. His description of how Roland and his two companions methodically take down a company of forty armed men is still vivid in my mind. I can't put my finger on why, but the Dark Tower series has a magic that keeps me reading.

Movie Review: Terminator 3

Terminator 3 is a movie that revels in the sheer power of steel, metal, and iron. The action scenes (and the movie is almost one continuous action scene) are like a symphony of metal pounding on metal. The two combatants are advanced killing machines from the future. The T-X's mission is to kill John Connor; the Terminator's to protect him. In carrying out these missions, they pound one another through walls, cars, helicopters, and even toilets. The T-X pursues John Connor in a crane truck, the truck's wrecking ball smashing dozens of cars. The Terminator shoots rocket propelled grenades into the T-X, the grenades blasting her down an elevator shaft. And the sound effects amplify every explosion and clash so that you feel enmeshed in a world of steel.

Perhaps all that sounds like a giddy fanboy's reaction to an action movie. And perhaps that's fair. There's much to criticize here. The human characters are unbelievable. Nicholas Stahl as John Connor doesn't seem like the inspiring hero he will become. Claire Danes as Kate Brewster comes off silly and shy when she should be tough and grimacing. Moreover, the Terminator's one-liners are, well, corny. But this movie is like a heavy metal concert; the lyrics don't really matter.