Friday, March 11, 2011

Seriously, If You Can't Enjoy APOLLO 13, Fuck You

I'm just going to come out and say it: every child in the world should be shown APOLLO 13, and if they don't like it, we should just fucking execute them. Humanity will be better off.


Let me assure you that I am being incredibly sincere here. Irony's dominance in modern society can be informative and rewarding, but all to often it is stifling, a time-wasting, ephemeral amusement that neither betters nor develops us. APOLLO 13 is the antithesis of this, one of the most sincere films of all time, and if the children of the future can't turn off their post-modern auto-irony-wired brains for two hours and enjoy it, they should probably just do us all a favour and stop breathing.

Sure, we all like to smirk smugly at the ignorance and stupidity of the world, but APOLLO 13 steadfastly refuses to acknowledge the worst in us, and glories in humanity's ambition. It's one of the noblest Hollywood films ever made, basking in the value of life, friendship, and the interconnectedness of us all.

Ron Howard gets a bad rap, sometimes deservedly (THE DILEMMA, HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS) and sometimes not (BACKDRAFT, FROST/NIXON), but I don't think anyone can question that APOLLO 13 is his greatest film. When we criticize his work, we're quick to deride him as "Opie", and this criticism is rooted in the irony/sincerity problem. Howard's work is usually rooted in a deep belief in the basic goodness of people and, indeed, the universe. When this attitude is played too prominently, it takes on an "aw, shucks" naivete that we can't help but mock, but when played at an appropriately quiet background level, it feels inspirational and moving. You can't help but tear up when those parachutes deploy at the end of the film.

A large part of the film's effect is James Horner's masterful score, surely one of the greatest in cinematic history. Sweeping moments of triumph punctuate the overriding tension, like the angels of our better nature piercing through the uncertainty of life. It's undeniably memorable, and incredibly uplifting.

However, the key to the film is Hollywood's go-to sincerity man, Tom Hanks. Hanks carries the film with a straightforward earnestness that has been his career trademark. From BIG onwards, Hanks made his mark as the innocent, affable protagonist, which made him particularly appealing in romantic comedies. Here though, his sincerity is played underneath that of the skilled, no-nonsense astronaut, and it's this subrosa approach that makes Lovell so relatable, and in a larger sense, the whole movie so effective. Its emotional sincerity is masked by the more pressing issue of survival.

It is also the best film ever made that understands the sheer awesomeness of space travel. 2001 undoubtedly has cool space stuff, but its dour, philosophical tone robs it of the wizardry of the process. Some of the greatest shots in APOLLO 13 revolve around the characters simply playing with zero-gravity, and you can't help but feel in awe of the entire idea of space travel. Now, I don't know if the children of the future will have any idea what space travel is, other than as words in the solitary history book their entire classroom is forced to share (if they're even teaching history at that point, that is), but that's when we should pop out the APOLLO 13 digital file, disc, or VHS tape and let them just bask in the sheer greatness of mankind.

And if they don't like it, let's just shoot them in the back of the head.

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