The Day the Earth Stood Still

Last week a massive ice storm swept across New England. The night before when I saw the forecast, I thought, "Meh. These New Englanders probably see this kind of action all the time." But by the next afternoon, the Boston news were calling it the worst such storm in decades.

In the morning it was beautiful to behold---branches coated with jewel-glittering cathedral-like ice that began melting once the sun came up. But it was awesomely destructive across much of Massachusetts---an apocalypse of trees. My sister lost two of hers, including a large hickory in their side yard. Power lines were down all across the state. Tens of thousands were still without electricity the next day and many roads were made impassable by the dangerous debris.

Nevertheless it was still possible to drive, and early Friday afternoon I braved the chaos to head towards Leominster to catch the early matinee showing of The Day the Earth Stood Still on the day of its national release. For various reasons, I wanted to cross it off my to-see list as soon as possible.

On the way to Route 2, there was an end-of-the-world feeling to everything along the way. Many of the side roads were blocked with barricades. Power company trucks were racing to and fro. The Citgo station had a line of cars twenty deep waiting to get gas. It looked like the 1973 Oil Crisis lines on tv. I was thankful that I had a full tank.

When I got to Leominster and walked up to the doors of the multiplex, I was dismayed to see the crude sign in scrawled magic marker on the concession booth window: "No First Show. Power out." The place was completely dark. A nearby grocery store seemed to be open for business, but it was hard to tell about any thing else in the vicinity.

It was over two hours until the next show, with no guarantee that the power would be back on by then. The local Barnes and Noble was shuttered as well. There seemed nothing to do but go back home, which I did. Not an unpleasant outing the winter sun, but I sure would have liked to have seen the movie that day.

It wasn't until two days later that I was finally able to get back to Leominster to see the movie. Why did I want to see it right away? Because I was definitely not looking forward it. It wasn't Keanu Reeves---we can all make fun of him. Rather it was that there was something sacrilegious about remaking the 1951 film directed by Robert Wise, which is one of the greatest science fiction movies ever made.

My friend Thor was particularly outraged over the remake. He's an archivist and connoisseur of science fiction in its many forms. It's hard to find fault with his position. Remaking a movie like that can feel like the worst kind of cultural plundering---how very Bush-era. One suspects the filmmakers of trying to usurp the status and glory of the original, or to somehow proclaim that the original was deficient and needed "updating" according to their own personal tastes.

Thus, in anticipation of seeing the movie, I had forced myself to construct a rational framework in my mind that would allow me at least the possibility of appreciating it. It went something like this: We know from experience by now that inferior remakes do not diminish the original. For example, when I say "the ending of Planet of the Apes," do you think of the Lincoln Memorial with an ape's head (2001 version), or do you think of the Statue of Liberty buried in the sand (1968 version)? Thus in a way, classic movies are like our Shakespeare. They are not lessened by revivals, but perhaps augmented, as each generation takes a stab at interpreting their meaning. By this reasoning, perhaps we should encourage more such remakes.

I kept repeating this rationalization in my head as I entered the theater and took my seat. So far, so good. I figured I could indeed pull off an honest and fair viewing.

It must have worked, because halfway through the movie I began to feel utterly ashamed of myself for having held such a prejudice against it. Sure, it was quite different from the original in many ways, but that's exactly the point: we live in a different world now. It needs to be different. My rationalizations were somehow working.

At some point, I realized I was demanding that the movie accomplish three simultaneous goals: (1) that it be like the original and pay sufficient homage to it; (2) that it be different from the original and not trample upon; (3) that it succeed as a movie in its own right.

Well, hey, no one forced them to make this movie, eh? That's the steep price you pay for appropriating a classic.

As it happens, I felt the story somehow managed to walk the tightrope between goals 1 and 2 above. Despite the special effects in the trailer, it was actually quite restrained in that sense, reflecting the relative simplicity of the first one. Among the more pleasing parallels was the precarious and vulnerable state of alien spokesman Klaatu during his time on Earth. Although he has advanced powers, he needs the protection of humans to accomplish his mission, just as in the original. This is an essential element in both versions, in that it is what allows him to find sympathy with humanity.

That the story was jazzed up somewhat should be taken in some respects as an indicator of the progress of science fiction narrative since 1951 (a very early year for sci-fi). Klaatu gets to move around more, and there is more subplot. But like I said, it's a gentle addition, and it makes sense for the most part. The updated elaboration of the Gort (giant robot) subplot seemed particularly well-handled. That Gort remains essentially unchanged in form was a pleasing nostalgic contribution that provided for continuity of appreciation between the two versions.

The casting gets positive marks from me too. Jennifer Connolly seemed like perfect casting to take over for Patricia Neal. Making her a scientist at Princeton seemed a clear riff from her character in A Beautiful Mind (2001).

As far as Keanu Reeves as Klaatu, how could one criticize this performance? Many have long suspected that Reeves is, in fact, an alien in human skin. What better role for him that a deadpan incarnation of that? If this were the only movie Reeves ever made, everyone would probably consider him to be a genius for it. The scene of his interrogation feels especially comfortable as a role-reversal evolution of Neo's questioning at the hands of Agent Smith in The Matrix (1999).

The big difference between the two stories is manifestly the reason why the aliens have come to Earth. In 1951, it was all about nuclear weapons and the Cold War. The aliens had noticed the humans had developed nukes, and they had made an appearance specifically to tell the humans to knock it off. In 2008, the reason they show up is because of impeding planetary environmental catastrophe. Earth, the humans are told, is a special life-supporting planet and the reckless earthlings cannot be allowed to ruin it.

In a departure from the original, Neo, I mean Klaatu, consults with a fellow long-time "embedded" alien, who passes the sentence of doom on humanity, all the while professing that he has come to love humans. There was something about this that felt lifted straight from Buddhist doctrine. On the other hand, the movie stays faithful to the original in the discussion between Klaatu and a renowned science professor, played brilliantly by John Cleese with an element of Monty Python lightness. Cleese's character helps convince the alien through impeccable reason to let humanity survive. Yes, reasoned philosophical arguments in a 2008 sci fi movie. How utterly classical!

Another interesting departure from the original is the role of the boy child. In the original, Bobby Benson is a typical authority-pleasing cheerful lad of movies of that era. Unlike the fear-driven adults, he is not in the grip of Cold War hysteria, and is able to show courage in regard to the alien. His innocence helps drive the plot. In the 2008 version, it is the child (renamed Jacob Benson) who is riven by fear-driven paranoia. He is bratty and rebellious in a passive-aggressive way, and his fear-driven actions help drive the story.

The 1951 story had a strong subtext about McCarthyism. One of the quintessential shots of the movie is the look of suspicion on the humans' faces as Michael Rennie as Klaatu walks into the boarding house in Washington, DC. They are not fearful because they suspect he is an alien, but because they think he might be a Red. The new version thankfully didn't try to copy this subtext. We were completely spared the attempt to turn Klaatu into an Al-Qaeda terrorist. Such a move would have been tempting, but would have been too much for the movie to bear. Somebody was doing their job here.

What fascinates me about the 1951 version is the "solution" offered, or rather imposed, by Klaatu. Because of the humans' development of nuclear technology, Earth is now forced to become a complying member of an interplanetary league. In some sense, humans had now lost their collective independence and self-determination. That they have no choice in the matter is a static element in the movie: Klaatu's position in regard to this remains unyielding throughout the story.

This mandate of externally supervised league membership in the 1951 version reflected one of the strongest political currents of the postwar era, an idea that being pushed from nearly every media outlet and thinktank. In the name of peace, the idea went, the nations of the Earth must give up their individual sovereignties in favor of greater federation. Ultimately we must have world government. This was the essential goal of postwar liberal internationalism, and it seemed self-evident and "progressive" to a great many enlightened and educated people at the time.

What was not visible at the time, but what has become starkly visible in retrospect, is how much this agenda of federation was being promoted and driven by the very people who had given us the horror of nuclear war in the first place. Moreover, such federations were designed to be largely administered and ruled by this same political class.

The original version was unconscious of this underlying linking of agendas, but in 2008, we need to be wiser (no pun intended) and more skeptical of the solutions being "offered" and "imposed" upon us, no matter how real the crisis may be.

This is where I was a little bit let down by the remake, not because it didn't address this issue (it didn't), but because it didn't even go as far as the original at the end towards laying out this fundamental political dilemma at work. Klaatu is persuaded not to destroy the Earth, but states that it is at the cost of our "way of life." Although the ending sequence of the movie shows what he has in mind (and pleasingly gives an entirely new dimension of meaning to the title), it leaves a gob of story questions unanswered. Is what we are seeing mandatory (as in the original), or simply a suggestive warning? Do humans have any choice from now on?

We are thus missing a crucial element from the original, which is Klaatu's farewell address, in which he states exactly what the future will be about. We are left to guess what his final intentions are. This is somewhat of a cop out, and makes the remake a little less daring than the original. I suspect that something was cut out of the script. Maybe they couldn't find the right balance that avoided sounding too much like Al Gore.

Do you get the idea that I thought the movie still succeeded for the most part? Maybe it was just my rationalizations at work, but I thought it did, mostly because it stayed fairly simple, played it close to vest, invoked both reason and emotion, and overall didn't try to be a mind-numbing blockbuster like Independence Day. As a consequence, however, the movie probably will suffer boxoffice-wise by comparison to the much splashier Cloverfield, to which it has many superficial similarities, in particular the alien attack in Central Park in New York City. If you've seen both movies, you will probably notice that Klaatu and the humans seem to take refuge in exactly the same bridge underpass at the end.

Perhaps this ironically means that the people most likely to appreciate this movie are the ones who liked the original.

At least it kept my mind churning about the issues it raised, which is what good sci fi is supposed to do. I thought about the story all the way home, in my nicely working car, as I drove past the poor bastards still shivering without electricity in the countryside around me.