Life’s a Beach

There was something uniquely different about the Cold War. . .the intangible nature of a symbolic wall separating West from East, having no troops on the ground, no bombs being dropped, simply an ever-growing nuclear arms race – unnerving in how one twitchy finger could change the world in an instant. A fear no less frightening, for the unknown is often far worse. A cautionary ‘what if’ tale, Stanley Kramer’s On the Beach (1959) finds the world having been mostly destroyed by a nuclear war, with only Australia having thus far evaded the ravaging power of radiation in the air. With the rest of the world silent, those remaining attempt to live their lives Down Under. But is doom impending? Estimates claim that extinction levels of radiation will reach the island in less than six months. Fascinating in its depiction, some do their duty (a butler-like waiter at the poshest of conservative private clubs continuing with his job; the assistant to one of the top military men constantly remaining by his side), while others cling to hope. . . some simply drink (a funny scene finds two elitists lamenting that the club overstocked on Port – and that it will go to waste).

“The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can. . .” – a beautiful, and perhaps slightly ominous passage by J.R.R. Tolkien. . . it is also a quotation that speaks to the post-apocalyptic film simply titled The Road (2009). Based upon Cormac McCarthy’s novel of the same name, John Hillcoat transports us into a bleak, dying land – with frequent earthquakes and mass fires, it is as if every tree had burned and volcano erupted, an ashen world that no long shines. All animals are extinct, bugs are now almost mythical creatures. Less driven by plot than a credo, our main characters, a Man (Viggo Mortensen) and his Boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee), follow a well worn road to the coast. Though it is likely that there is no more hope there than where they came from, it is their goal, the thing that drives them forward, their lifeblood.

It is quite clear that a good story is a vital part of making a quality film. Yet, in certain rare circumstances, the narrative can play a less important role than the majestic visual aspects of storytelling. It can be a risky proposition, and one that rarely works, but when it does, the audience is in for one exciting and mesmerizing ride. This is the case with the Academy Award Best Picture nominee Mad Max: Fury Road.

There is something that has always drawn me to movies that are set on trains. This unique setting boasts many themes that a screenwriter and director can play with. Not only does it lend itself to a claustrophobic place for a mystery thriller, but it also may symbolize the old world, romance or an epic journey. There is also the thinly veiled partition that separates class divisions (travel through a door and you may have plain economy style or lavish burled walnut compartments with sleek curtains where the richest of the rich relax).

One of my favourite film styles is the post apocalyptic genre. Depending on the time of production, these movies depict the fears of the day. For instance, in 1973 Soylent Green was made, which highlighted the possibility of overpopulation, lack of employment and most importantly, food shortages; (look for a review of this film at a later date). Quite differently, in the 2006 motion picture Children of Men, we see quite the opposite – a world that is dying as humans are no longer able to procreate.