Night of the Living Dead - 5 Critical Interpretations

I've always loved Night of the Living Dead. For a no frills, bare bone, semi-outdated, cheap-o thriller, this thing still delivers.

I used to show it to my class back when I taught American literature. It fit in really well with the American gothic literary tradtion - Poe, Hawthorne, etc. At the time, I wrote up five critical interpretations to Night of the Living Dead. Two use what we call the formalist approach (all you look at is the text or film itself; you pay no mind to the author, the time in which it was written, who's reading it, etc.) One uses what we call the biographical approach (looking at the life and experiences of the author/filmmaker and determining to what extent those experiences influenced him or her in the creation of the text). And two use the psychoanalytic approach (looking at a character motivations and symbolic meanings of events in the text). Here are the five interpretations I came up with:

The Formalist Approach

1.  In an effort to depict the entire world being slowly overtaken by ghouls, and thus raise the stakes for the house’s helpless victims, Romero utilized a cheap yet effective representation: the mass media. Auditory and visual images of the radio, coupled with a sub-plot of local law enforcement officials hunting the living dead throughout the countryside, work as cinematic conventions to extend the action, horror, and jeopardy off screen and into the entire country. Even if the protagonists are able to make it out the door and past the ghouls in the yard, there is still no place to run.

2.  Even on such a limited budget, Romero was effectively able to create tension, unrest, and uncertainty through his use of such camera angles and techniques as oblique angles, handheld camera shots, wide-angle close-ups, and low-angle framing.

The Biographical Approach

A genre film, Night of the Living Dead contains moments of horror and grotesque oddness; however, because of Romero’s professional ambitions it also contains moments of dark humor, romance, and tragedy. Born in the Bronx in 1939, Romero began making his first films in 8mm while still in his teens. He later studied art, design, and theater at the Carnegie-Mellon Institute of Art in Pittsburgh, where he graduated in 1961 with a B.A. Subsequently, he formed his own Pittsburgh-based company, Latent Image, to produce industrial films and television commercials. Then, in 1967, he teamed up with another Pittsburgh advertising firm, Hardman Associates, to produce a low-budget feature-length horror film that he hoped would serve as his ticket into the film industry. As a result, Night of the Living Dead took shape more as a portfolio piece than as a self-conscious entry into fear film. Owing to its popularity and marketability, the horror film has traditionally been the proving ground for unknown directors, since it's much easier to find a distributor for horror movies than it might be for a drama or a comedy. Romero's first film was a demonstration not only that he could direct a film but also that his direction was versatile.

The Psychoanalytic Approach

1.  Perhaps the dilemma most central to the success of any horror film is simply the question: “Is it scary?” A question more central to the success of horror films as a genre, however, is the question: “What do we fear?” Romero might answer that query, by means of his Night of the Living Dead, threefold. First, we fear the "undiscovered country" – death. That is to say, we fear that waiting for us on the other side of the grave is, simply, nothing. Or, even worse, mindless misery and unfulfillment. We fear that we will be taken by the darkness and left to an existence of wandering the wasteland searching for unattainable contentment. Second, we fear our own potential for violence and horror. Once attacked and killed, the victims of Romero’s film – in other words, us – become the antagonists, lifeless zombies inflicting pain and death on the innocent and hurting the ones they love. And third, we fear exactly what Romero so bluntly states in the closing sequence of the film: no matter how hard we try, no matter how strong or smart we are, no matter how good or valiantly we strive to do good, it is all ultimately left to chance and we will most likely be shot in the head for our efforts by a hillbilly sheriff hunting for zombies.

2.  Romero suggests that by our very nature we are, regardless of how high the risk to ourselves and to our loved ones may be, ultimately unable to put aside out petty differences and to act selflessly enough even to survive. In other words, we allow our selfishness and bitterness towards others to ultimately destroy the very behaviors and values that make us human.

 
So here's the question:  Which of these five interpretations do you feel best gets at the heart (or brain) of Night of the Living Dead? In other words, which interpretation best helps you as a member of Romero's audience best appreciate the film?

Invaded, Snatched, and Captured...by the Frame

I watched Invasion of the Body Snatchers this weekend with my two youngest. It was released in 1956, and, boy, does it sure hold up. For those of you unfamiliar with Invasion, here’s a quick plot synopsis: A small town doctor discovers that aliens are taking over earth by replacing humans one by one with human-looking pod people grown from alien seed pods. After a point, the doctor doesn’t know who to trust. Anyone could be an alien, but how can you tell? The film, of course, is famous for mimicking the communist scare that was sweeping America at the time. How can we protect ourselves from outsiders who wish to change our very way of life when those outsiders look just like you or me? Who can we trust? No one, that’s who!

I was afraid my kids wouldn't like the movie because it doesn't actually show any alien lifeforms...just human-looking pod people duplicates. In part, this was done for budgetary restrictions. It is, after all, much cheaper to film a guy dressed as a policeman and say he's an alien invader rather than putting him in a mask and suit sitting at a futuristic control panel and show that he's an alien invader.

But this lack of special effects actually adds to the film’s effectiveness. Kind of like how the mechanical shark used in Jaws never worked properly, so Spielberg fashioned his story around a monster the audience rarely saw. Spielberg himself has said numerous times that he thinks this adds to the terror of the shark, and if the shark had worked the way it was supposed to, the movie would have turned out far inferior.

But back to Invasion. Here we have a doctor and his girlfriend running around, trying to get out of town, all the while being chased and hunted by creatures that resemble their friends and neighbors. And here’s what struck me this time while watching the film: director Don Siegel uses the camera’s frame itself to hunt and capture the characters along with the aliens. Just look at this shot:

See how the buildings and cars on either side of them create visual walls through which the characters cannot escape? Even the reflection of light in the center of the frame is like a path leading them in only one direction. And that direction is totally illuminated. They can run, but they can’t hide. Here’s another:

It’s almost the identical shot, only this time it’s a tight hallway, with only one way to go. And when they finally get to the door at the end…

It’s locked. And they have to head back towards the camera. Heck, the camera doesn’t even follow them down the hall. Why? Because it knows the door is locked and that they’ll be coming back. The camera becomes, to some degree, the eyes of the hunters. More evidence to support this claim? The camera is placed behind the subjects so they run away from us, not towards us. Here's one more:

Great shot, huh? Pretty claustrophobic, right? These shots combined create a great sense of paranoia. In this way, the subject of the film becomes not alien invaders scaring us, but the fear itself. The film is about being afraid. There’s more ofthese shots, but I don’t want to ruin the movie for you.

So here’s a question: Can you think of a film where the framing is used to create a similar sense of claustrophobia and paranoia? Or, can you think of examples of just the opposite, films in which the framing creates a sense of freedom and openness?

What Is 'Plug'?

Your cummlative assessment for this unit - the history of film as seen through the lens of science fiction - is as follows: View the following short film - "Plug." Then, in a thoughtful, thorough short essay, answer the following question: Does this film most resemble science fiction films of the 1920s/30s, the 1950s, the 1960s/70s, or the 1980s/90s? When making these comparisons, please address the film in terms of themes, tone, and style.



Here are some suggestions you may want to consider when fashioning your response:

View the film multiple times. Make specific comparisions to the films we've viewed in class - Metropolis, Forbidden Planet, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Terminator 2 - as well as any other sci-fi films from those time periods with which you are familiar. Organize your essay logically. Feel free to make a variety of comparisons/observations about the film. (For example, perhaps "Plug" is most similar to 1950s cinema in terms of tone and themes, but stylistically it is most like a film from the 1980s and 90s. In other words, the film by no means needs to resemble only one historical decade. It can resemble any number of them to varying degrees. How much and how little of each is for you to decide.) Use your sci-fi history handout as a reference. Your essay should be typed, double spaced, and written in third person. It is worth up to 50 points. You will have two days in class to complete your response. Good luck, and have fun.

Animation Week Preview - How'd They Do That?

Here's a brief clip from the animated short cartoon "Popeye the Sailor Meet Sinbad the Sailor." This was produced in 1936, roughly 50 years before animators would be using digital technology to create '3D' envionments. (By '3D' I don't mean the kind with glasses where the image pops off the screen. I mean the kind where the characters and background seem to exist in space, and if you turn the camera, the background turns with you. Think Pixar. As opposed to traditional hand-drawn cel animation where the backgrounds were '2D' and basically just tracked left and right or up and down.)

As you watch this clip, be sure to pay special attention to the background.

 

Pretty cool, huh? See how it moves and shifts? Here's another one:

 

Here's the question: how'd they do that?

What Should We Watch Halloween Week?

We're going to have time to watch a quick horror movie the last week in October. I've narrowed it down to two. Both are classics. Both are good, fun films. And both are significant components of American film history. So here are your two choices. You can vote for your choice using the buttons over to the right of the screen.

First: Someone asked in class about zombie movies, and I said the the first 'modern zombie movie' must be the original The Night of the Living Dead. Is it a little dated? Yes. Does it still deliver? Yes, it most certainly does. I used to show it to my American lit class when we studies American gothic literature. It fit prefectly into the unit and, more improtantly, students enjoyed it. Here's the trailer...



Second: This is a family favorite of mine. And when I say 'family', I mean my particular family. My dad saw this in the theater when it first came out back when he was a little kid. He says it scared the crap out of him and he ran out about a third of the way in. I saw it when I was a kid, and now I watch it with my kids every year. Yes, it's funny. It stars Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, and if you don't know who they are, well, then that's reason enough fo you to vote for this film. They are classic comedy legends, and everyone owes it to themselves to see at least one Abbott and Costello movie before they die. But Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein is more than just a silly comedy. It stars Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula and Lon Chaney, Jr., as the Wolf Man. And as the actors who originally played these two iconic roles, these two guys are horror legends in their own rite. Imagine, I don't know, Jack Black and Seth Rogan starring in movie directed by Wes Craven and written by Stephen King. Spooky, creepy, silly fun. I'll say this again just to be clear: this movie has Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, and Dracula...plus a surprise mystery monster. Here's the trailer...



Be sure to vote for your favorite. Use the polling box to the right of the screen.

2001: A Slow-Paced Odyssey

While director Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey is commonly regarded as one of cinema’s greatest achievements, this adoration is often focused on four specific aspects of the film: (1) groundbreaking special effects, (2) the use of classical music in lieu of a conventional film score, (3) a philosophical dilemma in which science fiction becomes a question of “what if?” instead of merely “what next?”, and (4) the deliberate, almost painfully slow pacing.

For the sake of this discussion, we’re going to focus on the latter…Kubrick’s pacing. Film critic Roger Ebert attended the film’s premiere in 1968 and recalls the screening:

“To describe that first screening as a disaster would be wrong, for many of those who remained until the end knew they had seen one of the greatest films ever made. But not everyone remained. Rock Hudson stalked down the aisle, complaining, ‘Will someone tell me what the hell this is about?'’ There were many other walkouts, and some restlessness at the film's slow pace (Kubrick immediately cut about 17 minutes, including a pod sequence that essentially repeated another one).”

Needless to say, not everyone is pleased by the pacing of the film when they first see it. Many people think it’s slow and boring, never getting to the point. The truth is, however, the pacing is the point. The slow pacing is what the film is ‘about.’ Ebert describes the purpose of Kubrick’s pacing:

“The genius is not in how much Stanley Kubrick does in 2001: A Space Odyssey, but in how little. This is the work of an artist so sublimely confident that he doesn't include a single shot simply to keep our attention. He reduces each scene to its essence, and leaves it on screen long enough for us to contemplate it, to inhabit it in our imaginations. Alone among science-fiction movies, 2001 is not concerned with thrilling us, but with inspiring our awe.”

And that’s the key. Kubrick is not simply telling us a story; he is allowing us to actually participate in a story. Scratch that. More than a story. A cosmic event. And as we all know, when you participate in anything - a family picnic, a volleyball game, Thanksgiving dinner - there's always a lot of waiting between climatic happenings. Most of life is waiting, in fact, but that’s what makes the happenings so interesting – we’ve been anticipating them, waiting for them to occur. And when they finally do, we feel what Aristotle called a 'catharsis'; we have an emotional reaction to the events. We feel 'fulfilled'.

There’s no denying that Star Wars, The Matrix, or Terminator 2 – great films all – are more action packed and thrilling sci-fi adventures than 2001. And there’s no denying that each of those films contain interesting philosophical dilemmas: What makes a hero? How credible is our perception of reality? How are we contributing to our own destruction? But none of them – in fact, probably no science fiction film before or since – has cut to the core of and debated mankind’s central dilemma more thoroughly: “Who are we, and why are we here?”

And that is a question one simply cannot rush.

So Kubrick’s pacing of 2001 is slow and deliberate. And it’s not a great film despite its slow pacing; it’s a great film because of its slow pacing.

Here are two questions for you to discuss: (1) In what specific moments of the film is Kubrick’s slow pacing particularly effective, and why? (2) What other films can you think of that use similarly slow and deliberate pacing for similar dramatic effect?

Let's Talk Movie Night: Part I

Most of you showed an interest in staying after school one day and viewing a few movies in their entirety. I'm up for it, too, so we should probably start discussing just what it is we want to do.

First, we need to answer a few questions in terms of logistics. How many movies? (I'm thinking 2, with a few extras thrown in - short films, trailers, cartoons, vintage educational films, etc.) How much time? (After school to when? Leave and come back later?) What day of the week? (Are you guys willing to stay on a Friday, or should we do it during the week and just end by 7 or 8?) and Where? (I've been brainstorming a few options. I think we should do it somewhere reasonbly fun and comfortable. We need to stay on school grounds, but onther than that I think we should let our imaginations go wild and worry about getting permission after we've got a game plan. Here are a few ideas I had: the ARC, the SAC, the IMC, room 195, one of the Pits, the auditorium. Let me know if you have any ideas. Is there a cool, weird place I'm not thinking of?)

Second, how big is this going to be? I think we need a maximum number of participants. I don't want it to get too huge. I guess it depends a bit on how many of you think you will attend, bu I'm thinking that if every member of the class attended, and each of you brought two friends, we'd be on our way to 50/60 people, and that would be about it. Or maybe you want to limit it to just members of the class.

Third, what are we going to watch? Again, I have a few ideas I'd like to share with you, but by no means are these our only options. The sky is the limit. (Sort of...)

Option 1: 70s Drive In Movie Night
We start off with a few vintage drive in movie advertisements...



(I've got dozens of these.) Then we watch a few classic trailers of off-beat 70s flicks.



And then we dive in to a classic 70s drive in genre-heavy double feature. Kung fu and action, maybe. Or horror and western...

There's a million we could go with, but these are a few that I personally love...The Five Deadly Venoms and Escape from New York. Lots of fun 70s cult classic action. Maybe even Django...I'ts about a cowboy who cruises through the desert dragging a coffin along with on a rope. Who's in the coffin? Only Django knows...

Option 2: 1940s Night at the Movies
We start off with a classic theatrical cartoon short or two...

And then an episode of a 1940s movie serial...

(I've been wanting to show you one of these anyways. They were 12 or 15 episodes long, 15 minutes per episode, and each week you'd see a different episode of the same story. There's a bunch of these. ) Then we watch a double feature of two 30s and 40s classics. I'd like to suggest two great movies that we just won't have time to get to in class...

Option 3 - Theme Night
Maybe we watch a few from a specific director and get an idea of his body of work. We could pick a country and watch a few French or Japanese films. Maybe we pick a genre and watch a western double feature or a few full length animated films you guys have never scene. Maybe we go with stop-motion animation night...

Ray Harryhausen is probably my all around favorite filmmaker, and I'd love sharing some of his stuff with you. It's just the most fun you can have at the movies. Total unabashed entertainment.

Option 4: Bad Movie Night
I used to sponsor a club where all we did was meet once a week and watch clips from bad movies. We could do that for a night. Watch clips and trailers from bad movies and end the night with a screening of this classic...

Or this one...

On second thought, maybe we should avoid science fiction, since we're hitting it so hard in class...

And so we begin. First question...do we even want to do this, and would you even go? Second, what do we want this night to be like? Please come back periodically to see how the discussion is going and to continually add ideas and opinions. Thanks.

Forbidden Id

If you really want to understand the twist ending of Forbidden Planet, it's probably helpful to take a moment to discuss Freud.

Sigmund Freud (1859-1939) developed both a theory of personality (psychodynamic theory) that emphasized unconscious factors and a therapy (psychoanalytic therapy) for patients exhibiting abnormal behaviors. Freud suggested that our behaviors may be determined by irrational forces outside of conscious awareness. And his ideas, while most recently out of style, were very much in style in the 1950’s. And Forbidden Planet was only one of many films to jump on the bandwagon.

A core element to Freud’s theory is his perception of ‘consciousness.’ Consciousness is the term used to describe the level of awareness an individual has at any given time regarding any given event. The three levels are (1) the conscious (everything we are aware of at a given moment), (2) the preconscious (thoughts, feelings, memories, and wishes that can easily be brought to the conscious level), and (3) the unconscious (thoughts, feelings, memories, and wishes that are extremely difficult to bring to the conscious level and sometimes appear in disguised form in dreams).

For example, if someone was to ask you, “What are you eating right now?” you’d probably have a pretty good answer. “Why, I’m eating pizza. I know that because I’m doing it right this very minute. I’m thinking of it. The answer to your question currently resides in my ‘conscious’ mind.”

But what if someone were to ask you, “Say, what did you eat for lunch two weeks ago?” Well, you might have a little more difficulty coming up with an answer. “Um, let’s see. Last Wednesday I went home for lunch, I think. Yeah, because that was the day I had a dentist appointment…Okay, I remember now. It was pizza. Left over from the night before. Sorry it took so long to come up with an answer. It’s just that I didn’t know I’d need the information you were asking for, so I tucked it away in my preconscious mind. It was there, and I could access it, but it took me a few minutes.”

And what if someone were to ask you, “What did you have to eat the morning of your fifth birthday?” Why, you’d have no idea. “How should I know?” you’d say. “That was, like, years ago. Who knows that kind of information?” The answer, according to Freud, would be ‘everyone’ – it’s just locked away in your mind’s fruit cellar – i.e. the unconscious mind. Your conscious mind might not be able to find that info in all the boxes and chests you have down there collecting dust, but it doesn’t mean your unconscious mind still doesn’t hold a grudge against your mom for serving steamed vegetables on your five-year birthday. In fact, that’s one of the many reasons your mom bugs you so much today. Remember that room at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark with all the crates? Those crates are all the things your mom ever did to embarrass or anger you.

And while your conscious mind might not even remember what those things were, your unconscious mind has them very well documented, and it takes each and every one of them very, very personally.

So we’ve got the conscious level, the preconscious level, and the unconscious level. Three levels. But we also have, according to Freud, three structures of the mind: the ego, the id, and the superego.

Id – The id represents the primitive, biological side of our personality. The id is extremely selfish and has no concern for the needs or desires of others or for the concerns of society. Think of the id as your “Incredible Hulk” or your “inner caveman.” Your id lurks solely in your unconscious mind. It’s tough and greedy and selfish.

Superego – The superego contains the conscience, that part of your mind that helps you determine right from wrong. The superego helps us aim for what is right, correct, and ideal; it motivates us to strive for morality and perfection. If your id is the devil on your right shoulder, then the superego is that little angle on your left. Unlike the id, the superego exists in all three levels of the mind – the conscious, preconscious, and unconscious.

Ego – The ego is the executive arm of the personality that seeks to resolve the continuing conflict between the id and superego by following the reality principal (a realistic plan for obtaining what the id wants while conforming to the restraint of the superego). The ego stands for “reason and good sense.” Again, if your id is a devil on your right shoulder, and the superego is an angle on your left, then your ego is your head, stuck right in the middle and listening to both sides. The ego exists only on the conscious and preconscious levels.

Let’s put it all together. You’re hungry. Your id says, “Dude, see that guy eating a sandwich? Take it. Just punch him in the face and take his sandwich. And eat it.” But your superego says, “No, we can’t. That would be wrong. In fact, we’re not even that hungry – at least, not as hungry as a starving kid in Africa. Say, let’s raise some money and send a sandwich to that kid!” And finally, your ego considers both sides of the argument and finally decides, “Okay, let’s compromise. I’ve got a few bucks in my wallet. Let’s buy a sandwich and eat it. And maybe this November we’ll give a few bucks to the canned food drive.”

So what does any of this have to do with Forbidden Planet? Well, the monster was a physical manifestation of Morbius’ id, that’s what.

As I mentioned earlier, Freud was pretty popular in the 50s, and so the filmmakers thought it would be pretty creepy if the monster on the alien planet was not your typical alien threat, but rather part of one of us. Imagine, you land on a strange alien planet, and the most dangerous threat you face is one you brought with you. How do you escape yourself? Not only is the monster not an alien, it’s the farthest thing from an alien we could imagine.

So here’s the question of the day: What other movies have you that seen employ the same device? Are there any films you can think of in which the danger the characters face is, in fact, a manifestation of their own id, their own unconscious, greedy, selfish psyche? Keep in mind, we're not necessarily looking for films where the antagonist is the 'id' in the literal sense. Maybe it's just a character who behaves on his/her id more than his/her ego or superego. When fashioning your responses, consider not only science fiction films but also suspense, horror, fantasy, and even animated films.

Which Would You Rather See?

We were talking about 1950s sci-fi flicks in class today, and I got to thinking...Which of the following movies - based solely on the quality of the poster - would you rather see?

This one?

Or this one? And why? Be honest...

Frankenstein - Alive and Well

When I was a kid, my parents bought me real nice hard cover book about horror movies entitles The Best, Worst, and Most Unusual Horror Movies by Darrell Moore. This was the early to mid 1980s, so Poletergeist  was about as modern as it got. Anyway, I read that thing religiously and rented whatever titles I could from our local video stores. (Crystal Video, Corner Video, and Dollar Video - all extinct now, naturally.) I hunted these things down like a big game tracker. This is how I discovered Altered States, The Shining, and, yes, the original King Kong.

Up until then, I had settled for the cheesy 1970s Dino De Laurentis version, for which I still have a soft spot.

You've got to admit, it takes some guts to call a sequel of a 1933 film the "most exciting original motion picture of all time." It's kind of like calling the McRib the "tangiest, tastiest slow roasted pork barbeque sandwich ever made in the history of the universe." Which it isn't. Although it is pretty damn good, especially with the pickles. Whoever thought of throwing pickles on a McRib is some kind of mad genius. Speaking of mad geniuses...

The two most intriguing entries of Moore's book had to be Tod Browning's Freaks and Thomas Edison's Frankenstein. (Yes, that Thomas Edison. Thomas "The Lightbulb Guy" Edison made the world's first Frankenstein movie.) The book explained how in 1910 Edison's company produced a fifteen minute silent adaptation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and how since then all copies of the film had been apparently lost. People even forgot the film existed until the 1960s, when some guy found a picture of an actor ion full creature make-up playing the film's moster. There was suddenly a mad rush to find an existing copy of this legendary film...but none had ever been found.

And that's where I left off with the story. The 1910 Edison Frankenstein was one of my few personal cinematic holy grails. That is until Brandon sent me a link to a copy of the film on Youtube. (See what happens when you limit your research to books that are over two decades old? I should have known...try the Internet! So studpid!) So here it is. Enjoy and let me know what you think. (And thanks a million, Brandon. Extra credit, my friend!)

There's pretty good history of the film by Rich Drees over at Film Buff Online here.

While I'm thinking of it, here are two more silent German fantasy classics you might enjoy along with our study of Metropolis. The picture quality of each is less than spectacular, but both of these feature length films probably rival Metropolis in terms of cultural significance and historical importance. The first is Nosferatu (1922), an early take on the story of Dracula.

The second is The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919).

Now that I think of it, every movie I mentioned in this entry was in that book. Man, that was a good book. I'm going to go home and see if I can find it. And by the way, if you've never heard of Browning's Freaks, good luck.

Reactions?

Metropolis and the Uncanny Valley

As I was watching Metropolis yesterday, an intersting thing happened. A shot of the 'Machine Man' came up, and I thought, "Say, that looks pretty real."

But by "real" I didn't mean, "Say, that looks like a real robot." What I meant was, "Say, that cgi almost like it exists in the real world." Of course, the reason the 'Machine Man' looks like it actually exists is because it did actually exist - it was a pliable wooden costume made roughly sixty years before computer generated effects would even be used in films.

I'll say this one more time to be clear: I was watching a silent movie from 1927 and my reaction was that the computer generated special effects looked pretty good.

If you’re familiar with the “uncanny valley” theory, skip this paragraph. If not, here’s a pretty cool idea: In 1970 Masahiro Mori, a Japanese roboticist, published an article in which he describes a hypothesis he termed the “uncanny valley.” Basically, it says this. The more a robot or human facsimile looks like a human, the more familiarity we have with it, and the more we respond warmly towards it. (For example, for the most part people have warmer feelings towards baby seals than they do towards snakes, because baby seals look more human-like. And we like apes even more than seals, etc.) But there comes a point where this familiarity becomes too great, and instead of warmth, we feel repulsed.

According to Mori, people think that a little robot toy that hobbles around on two legs is cute, but the more super-human-like robots become, the more we’ll get creeped out by them. If one were to chart out this phenomenon, that dip where familiarity becomes repulsion is called the “uncanny valley.”

Star Wars = cute and cool. Back in the late 70s, this was a picture in a calendar hanging on my bedroom wall.

I, Robot = disturbing. This guy was never hanging from anyone's bedroom wall.

Polar Express = very disturbing. The only reason you'd hang this on your kid's wall is if you hated your kid.

But this still doesn't explain why I thought the robot in Metropolis looked "pretty good for cgi." I'm wonder this...The reason the uncanny valley exists is because our brains know we're being tricked, and our brains don't like it. When you're watching Star Wars, and you see a guy in a robot suit, your brain acknowledges that it’s a guy in a suit, and then your brain says, “Okay, so there’s a robot. What’s next? How’s that robot going to figure into the story?” But when we are presented with an image of a subject that we know can’t exist, but we’re being told does, our brains put up a fight. They resist the untruth. A paradox thus arises. The more realistic a fake character becomes, the less real it seems. When the filmmakers can’t get it just right, if there’s just one little movement off – the direction of a pupil, the weight of an arm, the bounce of hair – our brains yell out “Fake! Don’t believe a word of it! Liars!”

So what does this have to do with the 'Machine Man' of Metropolis? I have a theory. See if you can follow me, here. We as filmgoers are getting so used to being tricked, so used to being tossed down the ‘uncanny valley’, that we’re constantly trying to figure out the new rules of existance. This is where we live, now, but we don't like it. Things might seem pretty real, but our brains are being trained to look for mistakes, even when they don’t exist. It's like a magic show. We know that we're not actually seeing a woman defy gravity or get her head chopped off, so we spend our time trying to figure out how they pulled it off. And we're okay with that, because we bought the tickets and went to the theater to see a magician. But imagine walking outside the theater after the show and then seeing a woman get her head chopped off or flying through the air. Our brians woudn't be comfortable with not knowing where the game ended and reality began.

So while I was watching Metropolis, instead of seeing an actress in a mask, my brain saw a computer generated woman in a computer generated mask – because that’s what my brain is used to seeing. And my brain is trying to help me out. It doesn’t want me to be tricked, even when it’s not. So my brain flashed a red warning light: "Look out, dude. This is probably not real. We can't tell exactly why, but it's better to err on the side of caution."

So here’s my question: Is this new existence of ours in the ‘uncanny valley’ retraining our brains? Is this the boy who cried wolf? We’re so used to being lied to (in terms of digital images), that we’re don’t accept the truth even when there is no lie?

One of these two futuristic cities actually existed in the real world - at least in terms of being a model made of wood and glue and paint - and the other existed only as data, as a series of imaginary ones and zeros. And our brains are being trained to work very hard to tell the difference. Maybe too hard. Are we starting to see ones and zeros even when they aren't there?

I guess I’ll call this hypothesis the “wolf in the valley.” So, do you agree? Am I right? Or am I over thinking things? To what degree, if any, are modern digital special effects ruining our ability to appreciate the non-digital special effects of yesteryear?