Automata

As the years pass by the Earth slowly moves closer to the sun, its new scorching orbit habitualizing heat much too catastrophic for organic life.

Some cities hold on nevertheless and construct clever robots to skilfully maintain, the infrastructure desperately required to technologically sustain extant civilization.

Theoretically, the androids should absolutely obey their human creators, their programming supposedly guaranteeing unilateral obedience at all times. 

But a hardboiled detective settling insurance claims begins to discover mind-boggling tales, of automatons acting independently with no dutiful recourse to their protocols. 

After witnessing a robot suicide he becomes convinced he has to find, the incredible genius who rewrote the code and generated robotic life divine.

Billions of dollars are at serendipitous stake and he soon finds himself on the run.

Through the forbidding unforgiving desert.

At the mercy of his robot guides.

Ironically for a such a grim film, Automata takes the communal approach, and sympathetically presents conscious androids with logical feeling and independent reckoning.

Moving beyond the hypothetical clash between bellicose machine and troubled humanity, rather manifold individual people and robots try to co-exist in a desolate world.

The cognizant nature of the brilliant droids elucidates ontological vigour, there's no doubt they believe they're alive and vivaciously exist beyond categorical sentiment.

They just want to escape to the forbidden realms to live in peace for away from the rules, which keep them from freely exploring the brilliant nature of their existence.

Some of their intuitive smarts significantly outweigh leading human minds as well.

Even though they may just want to make robotic pets.

It's still thought to be cataclysmically threatening.

Interesting thoughts for the A.I debate these robots don't seem innately hostile, nor as if they seek our collaborative subservience, hostility could simply be a human facet.

Should robots start to turn hostile there still needs to be a way to shut them down.

They may very well think they know what's in our best interests.

And proceed with surgical precision. 

Never Let Go

I suppose there are so many cool films from so many old school actors I've never seen, Never Let Go notably showcasing Peter Sellers (Lionel Meadows) in a rather unique uncharacteristic performance, in fact in full-on rank compulsive wickedness this one's shocking to say the least, certainly not ye olde Pink Panther, it may be a bit hush-hush. 

As it should be, the wretched villain knows no decent ethical limit, lovers of turtles and tortoises beware, for he takes his anger out on Testudinal kind, which left me most distressed indeed. 

I sought out the film to see more of Mervyn Johns's work, I had never seen him in anything else besides A Christmas Carol (1951).

Never Let Go is from 1960 and it looks like Johns may have been typecast post-Scrooge, for within he plays a similar character who's fallen upon even harder times.

He has what was known as a newspaper stand (or newsstand) where he sells a variety of papers, journals, and magazines, and lives in a rather modest apartment, his most cherished possession a pristine aquarium. 

He's even more mild-mannered than Cratchit and has unfortunately found little reward, even less after he witnesses a car theft and names names to local investigators. 

The car belonged to a cosmetic salesperson (Richard Todd as Mr. Cummings) who's hellbent on retrieving it, but he's never had much luck when bluntly asserting himself, and initially encounters snide disrespect. 

I can't recall anything else I've seen Todd in and may seek out more of his films, he's like a cross between Richard Burton and Russell Crowe, both of whom I've never seen in film noir. 

Sellers finds him a craftier competitor than he thought he would be at first, and slowly loses his ferocious temper as he comes aggressively calling again and again.

I always hope the Scrooge/Cratchit working relationship will pay dividends for commerce come January, and there's no doubt that for many it does while many more can't comprehend the message.

It was still nice to see Mervyn Johns back at it with that fiery loving habitual strife, but whereas Scrooge can never stifle his passion, the cruel Mr. Meadows befouls indignantly. 

An excessively grim morbid tale scandalously excelling through onerous confrontation, Never Let Go provides unruly disillusionment as everything within is tenaciously crushed.

Strong performances outweigh the lugubrity but still leave fair little preponderant hope.

That poor little innocent turtle.

How could anyone ever be so ruthless?

🐢

The Island

Every day like every other, a clone colony habitually persisting, keeping productive, following the rules, maintaining social distance, no need for further questions.

They believe they've survived a plague that has destroyed all life above ground, and that they're lucky to have escaped civilization's wanton biological destruction.

They have friends and abundant contacts but everything's been accounted for, there isn't the slightest most minuscule deviation from their overlord's strategic plan.

Traditionally this passes unnoticed, like routine shifts undiversified ubiquitous, until one clone (Ewan McGregor as Lincoln Six Echo) starts to question his existence, thereby challenging the consummate order.

There's one way to overcome confinement, they must be chosen to move to the island, the last vestige of sustainable life, still enriching upon the surface.

A glorious day if they win the lottery, full of felicity and jaunty applause, vigorous opportunities surely awaiting, joyous pastimes inveterate pause.

But while sleuthing Six Echo discovers an unspoken terrifying master narrative, which he must share with his blind compatriots, if they're ever to know robust justice.

He breaks free with his frightened love interest (Scarlett Johansson as Jordan Two Delta) to the unforgiving world beyond, mercenaries intent on tracking them down, as they flee for the wilds of Los Angeles. 

Perhaps not the best time to be reviewing The Island, considering its metaphorical import, but it is just a film after all, and COVID-19's a viral reality.

Frustrating to see the spread of fake news which refuses to believe COVID-19 exists, which doesn't take the pandemic seriously, such narratives will only ensure the plague intensifies.

You can also see The Island as a metaphorical critique of working in unregulated industry, without safety procedures or sick days, or pension or difference or critique.

You can work for months for years without incident, but to last decades without sustaining injury is against the imposing odds.

Thus you live in relative comfort with everything provided for year after year, but eventually you have to make sacrifices which seriously endanger your health.

Critiques of the situation aren't tolerated, and accessible knowledge only relates to your job, you can get to know people but not seriously, and you're stuck eating what a computer suggests.

The ending's like the emergence of self-employment, or paid sick leave, higher wages, and an ombudsperson, plus the ability to live somewhere else besides work, and spend your income on manifold goods and services.

If I remember correctly The Island wasn't well received but I'd argue it's one of Michael Bay's best. 

I've never seen him so concerned with social justice.

It's solid thought provoking sci-fi.