Knowing

Alex Proyas's Knowing (2009) is a divisive film, to say the least.  I think it adds to its fascination, but many people didn't agree when it was first released.  I also greatly admire the film's ambivalence, the way it intentionally walks the line between science and religion.  It raises several questions, possibilities, theories, etc., without providing any concrete answers.  I happen to like that.  Most audience members nowadays, unfortunately, can't handle that kind of storytelling.  Many moviegoers want to settle down, switch off their brains, and let the entertainment wash over them with minimal effort.  They want stories that are black and white, and seem to be uncomfortable with any gray area.  And heaven forbid the filmmakers leave anything unanswered.

I can't fault people for seeking out that kind of entertainment, yet I like it when a movie engages my brain.  (And Knowing doesn't ask us to work as hard as, say, Christopher Nolan's Inception or Tenet.)  I love it when a movie prompts discussion with the ideas and concepts raised by the story.  The movies I enjoy most are the ones that spark interesting conversations.  That's what most good science fiction stories do.  They usually present ideas in a way that sometimes make us reconsider how we view the world around us.

I know I'm probably in the minority of people who praise Knowing as a great science fiction movie.  I found it thrilling and was even more thrilled to discover that Roger Ebert gave it four out of four stars.  At least I'm in good company.  In addition to his review of the film, Ebert wrote two blog entries about it.  He wrote, "All of my considerations are probably irrelevant to enjoyment of the film.  But the film inspired me to think in these ways, and not many films do."

This could be a good starting point for me to debate the merits of the film, but I won't do that.  All I can do is say that it worked for me, and I'll do my best to explain why.

The story begins in a 1950s New England classroom with a girl named Lucinda Embry (Lara Robinson).  The students of Dawes Elementary are asked to draw pictures to place in a time capsule which will be opened in 50 years.  Lucinda doesn't draw a picture but writes down row upon row of numbers.  Her pages of numbers, once removed from the time capsule in the present day, end up in the hands of Caleb Koestler (Chandler Canterbury), son of John Koestler (Nicolas Cage), an MIT astrophysics professor.

Koestler at first thinks the numbers are nonsense.  Upon closer inspection and with the help of the internet, he is unsettled to find that the numbers coincide with the dates of major events/accidents from the last 50 years that resulted in multiple deaths.  Cage does a good job playing a man who is a scientist first and doesn't believe in supernatural hooey.  Yet scientific curiosity drives him to find out what's going on, propelling him (and us) through the story.  He instinctively wants to reject what seems like mere coincidence, but the specificity of the numbers tied to real events compels him to question everything he knows.  The most disturbing realization is that three of the events predicted by the numbers haven't happened yet.

In an early scene, Professor Koestler poses a question to his students, asking whether the universe is random or deterministic.  When a student asks what Koestler believes, he replies, "I think s*** just happens."  Until Lucinda's numbers shake up his world, that is.  He determines that the numbers indicate event dates and the number of deaths, but at first can't account for other numbers in the sequence.  He finds out, in a scene of powerful trauma, that the other numbers represent the longitude and latitude coordinates—when a plane crashes next to the highway where Koestler sits in a long line of unmoving traffic.  Koestler runs toward the wreckage, hoping to save lives, only to discover there isn't much he can do before emergency personnel arrive.  The scene takes place in one continuous shot, the first of several spectacular moments in the film.

Koestler's cosmologist colleague, Beckman (Ben Mendelsohn), cautions against the dangers of numerology, which is the study of finding significance in numbers.  Just the fact that this argument is made in a film like this makes it slightly smarter than average.  Too many films in this genre don't even try to rationally explain anything, much less bring up plausible counterarguments.  Not that there is much in this movie that counts as realism, but it could be argued that the behavior of the characters is reasonably plausible within the bounds of the story.

As he tries to get to the bottom of things, Koestler tracks down Lucinda's daughter, Diana (Rose Byrne), and granddaughter, Abby (Lara Robinson again).  Everything Koestler knows as a scientist tells him that Lucinda's ability to predict things in this manner should be impossible, but he just has to know for sure.  At first Diana is angered by his questions, insisting that her mother was a disturbed woman.  After John tries and fails to prevent a horrible subway crash, Diana is forced to agree that he may be right and reveals that she and Abby are being followed by the same mysterious figures that Caleb has seen (simply credited as the Strangers).

(Major spoilers from here.)  John and Diana visit the home of her deceased mother, only to discover that the numbers predict the end of the world.  And once John confirms that Earth will be decimated by a massive solar flare, the movie nearly sprints to the end.  Once they discover that the Strangers (whom the kids call "the whisper people") can speak in a way that can only be heard by Caleb and Abby, it quickly becomes the goal of the adults to try to get to safety.

As Koestler obsessively tracks down the final numerical prediction left behind by Lucinda, which he believes are coordinates that will lead them to safety, Diana flees with the children.  Her behavior is frustrating (and has fatal results), yet it seems to reflect the behavior of any panicked parent.  Why does she stop listening to Koestler's warnings?  Because, as Proyas says in the director's commentary track, things haven't added up for her the way they have for John.  Her behavior is dictated by her circumstances, which is the best you can hope for with any fictional character.  Proyas also points out in his commentary that she is unintentionally taking away the children's agency.  (More on that in a minute.)

When Koestler follows the coordinates and finds the children safe with the Strangers, we're finally ready for an ending chock-full of stunning visuals.  A massive vessel (starship?) appears, and the Strangers reveal their true selves as translucent/luminescent beings, the likes of which we've never seen before.  They wish to take Caleb and Abby with them, but it must be by choice.  While Caleb is understandably upset at the thought of leaving his father behind, John realizes that this is the only way to guarantee his son's safety and urges him to go.  As the children leave with the Strangers, we see numerous vessels leaving the planet.

After John drives to the home of his parents to share a final embrace, the story goes all the way to its logical conclusion and the movie lets rip with what Robert Ebert described as "merciless" special effects.  Cities are obliterated, oceans evaporated, and our world is scorched beyond recognition.  Elsewhere, Caleb and Abby are deposited on a plain of curious long grass on some distant planet.  The movie ends with a shot of them making their way toward a large tree (a new Garden of Eden, perhaps?).

So, let's discuss a few matters.

I have a friend who said he enjoyed the film "until the aliens showed up."  Are the Strangers aliens?  Observant viewers have pointed out that when the Strangers reveal their true form, they appear to have angel-like wings made of light.  Director Alex Proyas also points out in his commentary that the Strangers' vessel, if it had arrived in the time of Ezekiel in the Bible, would have probably been seen as something sent by God.  The vessel seems to match the description of such a thing in the Book of Ezekiel (with its "wheels within wheels").

The director is deliberately walking a line here.  In interviews, Proyas has refused to state if the film leans one way or the other.  The separation between religion and science is dramatically reflected in the relationship between John Koestler (a hardline scientist) and his father (a pastor).  Something in their past has caused them to be estranged, yet John's recent experiences have changed his understanding and by the end the two men have reached some sort of unspoken reconciliation.  Does this mean that Koestler is embracing his religious upbringing?  Not necessarily.  The film's ending could be read differently depending on where you stand on these issues.

On a personal level, I have always thought that science and religion go hand in hand and have never understood society's need to argue that one invalidates the other.  But that's just me.

Roger Ebert correctly pointed out in one of his blog entries: "The professor offered a false choice to his class.  No one thinks the universe is random, except possibly at a quantum level, and let's not go there.  Gravity doesn't randomly switch off.  Light doesn't randomly alter its speed.  The classical philosophical choice is between determinism and free will.  Is the future already predestined, or do we have a role in the outcome?  ...Strict determinism implies an absence of free will, and free will is a necessary component of all spiritual belief systems."

This illuminates a few intriguing details.  Proyas points out in his commentary that the Strangers aren't going around kidnapping anybody.  Only when Diana takes away the agency of the children do the Strangers step in.  The children must choose to leave, they aren't being abducted.  It's interesting to watch Koestler think this through and help Caleb come to what he thinks is the right decision.  And in the end, Caleb and Abby are . . . saved.  (Is it significant, when we see them in the final shot, that they are dressed in white?)

Maybe a lot of audience members didn't like the ambiguity and expected the story to have a clearer distinction between science and religion, especially regarding the ending of the movie.  I wasn't bothered in the least.  Does it leave things unanswered?  It absolutely does, but the questions it inspires open the door for some fascinating conversation.  To be fair, I've seen other movies that left too many things unanswered and felt like the filmmakers were jerking my chain.  I didn't feel that way with Knowing.  All art is subjective, and this film intentionally leaves it up to the viewer to wonder about the ending.  Debates about the story could be endless, which, for me, only enriches the experience.

I haven't even mentioned all the other factors that help make this movie great.  I think the acting is brilliant, the cinematography is top notch, and Marco Beltrami's score is exceptional.  I had a great time seeing this film in the theater and have loved it ever since.  While I can't convince someone else to love it like I do, I make no apologies for my taste in movies.

Skyfall

So far, Skyfall is the most successful James Bond film ever. It's the second-highest grossing UK film in history and is among the highest-grossing films of all time. It's been praised left and right, winning awards and accolades and widespread critical acclaim. I like to think of it as one of the most stylish Bond films, as well. Between Sam Mendes's direction and Roger Deakins's cinematography, this film is beautiful just to look at.

I thought Casino Royale—the film that rebooted the franchise with Daniel Craig as Bond—was fantastic. Loved it. The next film, Quantum of Solace, not so much. It was a near miss. Then along came Skyfall. Roger Ebert said, "I don't know what I expected in Bond No. 23, but certainly not an experience this invigorating."

The story begins, as it usually does, already in progress. Bond is on a mission to retrieve a computer hard drive that contains a list of undercover agents, the exposure of which could leave MI6 vulnerable. The chase begins in Istanbul, with Bond pursuing Patrice (Ola Rapace), the man who has stolen the list. What starts out as a car chase becomes a rooftop pursuit via motorcycle, and eventually transitions to the roof of a train. The mission is being monitored in real time by M (Judi Dench, excellent as always), who must make a critical snap decision which inadvertently leads to Bond getting shot. Is it a spoiler to reveal that Bond doesn't die? It's been twelve years since Skyfall was released and Craig has played the character in two more films.

(I have to mention the opening title sequence. Not only is it wonderfully evocative of the story as a whole, but it also features one of the best Bond title songs ever, performed by the incomparable Adele. It's the first song from a Bond film to win the Academy Award for Best Song. Well-deserved, if you ask me.)

While Bond lays low, allowing the world at large to think he's dead, M is warned by her new boss, Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), that she and MI6 will have to answer for the list that was lost during her watch. An explosion at MI6 soon after makes it clear that whoever has the list is a serious threat and seems to be targeting M.

Once he gets wind of the explosion, Bond returns to London. Because he's been presumed dead for three months, M informs him that he'll have to retake the tests to hang on to his double-O status. During this stretch of the story, not only do we delve a little deeper into the relationship between Bond and M (which is really the core of the movie), we also meet the new Q (Ben Whishaw), appearing for the first time in this newer run of Bond films. As befits our technological age, Q is something of a computer whiz. Indeed, a look around the "new" MI6, especially the "Q branch," reveals people tapping away at computer keyboards in a space dotted with digital screens.

After Bond is declared ready for active service, he zips off to Shanghai to find Patrice. They end up having one of the most interesting fights I've ever seen, from a cinematic point of view. Most of the fight appears to be in one take, in silhouette, against a backdrop of giant glowing digital jellyfish on the adjacent skyscraper. Patrice doesn't reveal any information, but Bond finds a clue and heads to a casino in Macau.

At the casino, Bond meets the silky Severine (Berenice Marlohe), who agrees to take Bond to meet her employer. Only later do we realize how effectively the villain has been established mostly through dialogue, especially Severine's description (or non-description) of him. It's her behavior that gives us a sense of dread, building up to the appearance of an antagonist we haven't even seen for nearly half the movie.

When Bond finally meets Silva (Javier Bardem), we get one of the great movie entrances. Silva is given an eerie introductory speech (written by John Logan), all delivered in a single shot as he slowly walks toward the camera. He will eventually reveal more layers, yet we already see him as a twisted, frightening, memorable villain.

I find that I don't want to describe much more of the plot. The unfolding of the story is part of the fun of watching Skyfall. But there are other elements worth highlighting.

I love that Mendes and the writers made the choice to go old-school. They are correct to point out that having clever gadgets in a Bond film becomes increasingly difficult when everybody in the audience has an equally amazing device in their pockets. How does one compete? By going back to the basics. I found this to be an incredibly satisfying approach. For those who would argue otherwise, do they want a James Bond film that appears to be set in our world, or are they hoping it'll turn into science fiction? (It sometimes sort of does, anyway.)

As an audience member, the ending of the film raises the question: How do you replace Judi Dench? Well, you can't, but you cast as bloody good an actor as you can. Since her first appearance as M, Dame Judi appeared in Bond films over a period of 20 years. As I mentioned before, her relationship to Daniel Craig's Bond is really at the heart of these films. She is unforgettable, one of the best actors in the world.

The reveals of the new Q and the new Miss Moneypenny made me smile. I thought they were done rather well. But the reveal of Bond's Aston Martin actually made my eyes wet. I'm not much of a car guy, but the reveal of the car, accompanied by the original Monty Norman theme, creates an awesome, nostalgic moment.

Speaking of music, Thomas Newman's score for this movie is incredible. After leaving the movie theater, I went and bought my first soundtrack of a James Bond film. Newman had not been known for action films, but he proved to be supremely adept at it, modulating pace and energy at all the right times, and making good use of the old Bond themes in all kinds of places in the score.

There are other appearances in the movie that I haven't mentioned, all of which add wonderful character moments to the story and help deepen Bond's backstory. (We never learn very much—just enough to keep us intrigued.) Quantum of Solace had moments that worked, but not nearly as many as Casino Royale. With Skyfall we're back on track, and it's nice to see Bond in another movie that fires on all cylinders.

And then there's Daniel Craig. I refuse to debate who is the "best" James Bond, but Craig is my favorite. Each actor who has played the role has brought a different sensibility to it and highlighted different aspects of the character. Craig's take on the character clicked with me better than any other, that's all. Best of all, he plays Bond as a real human, with real emotions and physical limitations, not as a robot or superhero. I can't relate much to 007, the secret agent, although I can relate, even just a little, to James Bond the man. And that leaves me, maybe not shaken, but definitely stirred. (Forgive me; I had to do it.)