FacePainting

As some of you may know, Paramount commissioned (in)famous director M. Night Shyamalan to adapt the popular Nickelodian series “Avatar: The Last Airbender” into a movie trilogy. The TV series revolves a fantasical, Hayao Miyazaki-inspired universe that deals with individuals capable of controlling and manipulating (aka “bending”) one or several of the earth’s elements – Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire – and how the main protagonist, Aang, the Last Airbender, is destined to bring back balance when the Fire nation’s imperialistic and war-mongering desires get out of hand. The movie is slated for release July 1st this year, and its production has led to a lot of controversy specifically with regards to its casting. 

Though I’m not a particular fan of the show (nor do I dislike it) and am simply neutral overall, I feel that it is necessary to state for several reasons why I will not support this movie for professional, philosophical and personal reasons. 

History of American Facepainting

Americans have a long standing history of playing other ethnic minorities, starting as far as 1829 with the play “Metamora.” The play is about an Native American chief who at first befriends White settlers but through politics and a series of betrayals, eventually retaliates against the impending colonists, ultimately dying in a climatically melodramatic scene. The main character, Native American chief Metamora (who happened to be based off real Native American Metacomet, aka King Philip) was portrayed by Edwin Forrest, marking one of the earliest practices of Redface in which White actors played Native American roles. 

The humble beginnings of Redface lead up to the infamous time period of popular Blackface in which White actors smeared their faces with black paint and depicted racist driven caricatures of African Americans such as Zip Coon and Jim Crow. These caricatures were depicted in minstrel shows to much popularity, a popularity distinguished by the first movie with a soundtrack, 1927’s “The Jazz Singer” in which Al Jolson portrays a Jewish son who dives into Broadway and the show business via blackface; in fact, the climatic scene involves Jolson putting on his make up, transforming his very Jewish distinction into a character popular to a widely racist White majority. 

Eventually, Blackface gave way to other and more subtle racist interjections, a prime example being the 1961 film “West Side Story.” The studio opted to cast Natalie Wood as Maria, the Puerto Rican love interest and female lead. This was blatant Brownface in which White actors were favored over Latin actors, and a further criticism was how Puerto Ricans were depicted in the narrative. In fact, when approached for a possible remake, Ricky Martin downright refused, stating that he could not endorse what he believed to be an ethnocentric depiction of Latin cultural roots; Jennifer Lopez, also approached, disagreed with this sentiment and was enthusiastic about the project’s prospects. Though the basis for the ethnocentricism of “West Side Story” is still up for debate the fact remains that in the original 1961 film, a White actress was favored over a Latina actress, which is enough to argue a blatant Hollywood practice of Brownface. 

These three history examples lead up to my foremost argument about Hollywood’s tradition in racebending, exemplified by two examples currently in the spotlight – Disney’s “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time” and Paramount’s “The Last Airbender." 

Racebending in Practice - Modern Edition

Both "Prince of Persia” and “The Last Airbender” are great offenses that demonstrate a longstanding Hollywood tradition of racist undertones: both cast White actors to portray ethnic characters over respective ethnic actors. However, I believe that “The Last Airbender” offends more greatly than “Prince of Persia” for a few more reasons than expected: 

“Prince of Persia” at least had some twisted Hollywood marketing sense in that they casted a A-list actor, Jake Gyllenhaal, to portray Prince Dastan; despite the movie being uncannily silly in premise and narrative function (foremost, it’s based off a video game franchise) a well-known actor on the list would invariably pull in the numbers. 

As a disclaimer, I do not condone the casting for “Prince of Persia,” but for the record is was already a stupid idea to begin with and starred an actor that many Americans are familiar with. Given how it is a Jerry Bruckheimer production, I’m sure big money was involved with intent of creating another hit like Johnny Depp did for the “Pirates of the Caribbean” franchise, a franchise that was in itself silly and based off a classic Disneyland attraction. 

So while “Prince of Persia” offends with its casting of a A-list White actor for marketing reasons, “The Last Airbender” offends even more with its casting of newcomer/lesser known White actors over equivalent Asian actors to portray its starring Asian characters. The marketing reasons attached to famous actors does not apply here; instead, the marketing assumption is that White actors are more “capable” than Asian actors for pulling in viewers, with a possible secondary assumption in their “superiority” in acting abilities. This overarching assumption is the basis for an institutionalized racism innate to Hollywood’s long, long history of ethnic narratives. 

Why Paramount Pictures reinforces an Institutionalized Racism

In her paper “Levels of Racism: A Theoretic Framework and a Gardener’s Tale,” Camara Phyllis Jones (MD, MPH, and PhD) postulates that there are three levels of racism: internalized, personally-mediated, and institutionalized.

Internalized racism is how one personally feels about race and its meaning, though they may not necessarily act out on these underlying and internalized assumptions it most definitely affects them at the subconscious level (eg. “It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights-if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different.” – Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye).

Personally-mediated racism maintains social-structural barriers, the result of assumptions held by people or a community (eg. “This town was so much better before those goddamn ___ moved in. It’s their fault the town’s economy has gone down so much”).

Lastly, institutionalized racism is racism at the highest infrastructural level, in which policy is dictated by racial assumptions and discrimination (eg. South Africa’s long history of Apartheid in which black South Africans were politically and legally segregated from whites, spearheaded by the South African Nationalist Party from 1948 to 1994). 

Herein this last level of racism lies Paramount Studio’s greatest offense of reinforcing institutionalized racism within the Hollywood business. 

By openly preferring Caucasian actors over Asian actors in an open casting call, Paramount demonstrated their innate racist assumptions – that a no name White actor was more capable of increasing box office numbers and (perhaps) “acting” than an equivalent Asian actor regardless of the Eastern-based characters in the series. Additionally, by casting Asian actors as secondary or supporting characters, Paramount clearly wished to create an “authentically diverse” universe, one that is distinctly Eastern and non-Western in its roots. 

This assumption is wrong, unfounded and offensive on so many levels. Who is to say a Asian American boy is less articulate in English and capable in acting prowess than a Caucasian boy? Pixar casted Japanese-American Jordan Nagai to voice act Korean-American inspired Russell in their 2009 film “UP,” and it was arguably one of the most commercially and critically acclaimed successes of the year. Obviously this assumption can’t be the case, especially considering the success of other Asian American cinema such as “Better Luck Tomorrow” in 2002 and “The Joy Luck Club” in 1993. 

And who is to say Asian actors in distinctly Asian narratives are any less capable of drawing in American audiences? Ang Lee’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” in 2000 opened the gateways to a Hollywood flood of Hong Kong and Asian cinema that had been established by star Asian actor predecessors such as Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. These legacies proved that American audiences do enjoy Asian cinema, and though they were heavily based on martial arts lore they were nonetheless marketable and a great potential for Hollywood to spread out and include more Asian actors in their films. 

Perhaps the greatest offense that the “heroic” characters are portrayed by lily White actors while the “villainous” characters are portrayed dark-skinned Indian actors in lieu of the fact that all the characters have distinctly Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian and Inuit characteristics regardless of their “good” or “badness." 

This purports my conceit that Paramount blatantly reinforces racism at the institutional level, driven by innately racist assumptions and an ethnocentric desire to bundle Eastern culture – rich in history and human stories – into a big old Yellowface bowtie. Make it as pretty and shiny and "Asian-y” as you want – in the end, this movie is racist and a disrespectful slap in the face of the Eastern heritage it so wishes to profit off of. The studios underlying assumption about marketability and acting capability of White over Asian actors is insulting, and to claim that their production is “diverse” because they cast Asians as secondary and supporting characters ignores the bigger issue at hand – the starring, main Asian characters are portrayed by White actors instead of Asian actors. 

Shyamalan – Sold-out, Oblivious, or both? 

Indian-American director M. Night Shyamalan has consistently defended the movie as “diverse” much in the same vein of Paramount’s assertions, citing that the production team took careful means to create a film rich in Asian culture and aesthetics – and like the studio, not once has he addressed the bigger issue at hand, that White actors have been favored over Asian actors to play Asian characters. 

He completely misses the point about ethnic and racial diversity: dress it up all you want, but at the end of the day it’s Yellowface all over again. It’s an insult to assume that Asians and Asian Americans will be ok with White actors once again taking on the starring roles that are Asian archetypes, and worse that Shyamalan seems peachy keen on the whole premise. 

Shyamalan has even stated that he desired to work with Nicola Peltz, the Caucasian actress slated to play the water bender Katara. This statement highlights my other postulate that Shyamalan is not a dumbfounded, overridden director force fed to direct a Yellowface film – that instead he obviously had a say in who he wanted casted, that he fully endorse White actors over Asian actors to play the main parts. 

Was he bought? Is he oblivious to the institutionalized racism he’s endorsing? Or is it a bit of both? Whatever the reason, it’s clear Shyamalan is in love with his cinematic vision despite the social implications at hand, and for that I’ve lost all respect for him, especially considering that he himself is a minority director and would presumably empathize with minority actors barred from acting roles due to Hollywood’s underlying racial assumptions. As of now, this director is unredeemable – in screenwriting, in career, and in a self-indulgent streak that ignores world issues for his own self-fulfillment. This is simply shameless. 

“Fantasy Universe”

Defenders claim that this just a fantasy universe, some stating that they saw main protagonist Aang as a “White guy” and that the casting is simply “interpretational.” This again misses the point completely – this is a narrative based explicitly on Asian roots, and for a movie that lavishes in the history and beauty of Eastern culture its casting of White actors in the lead “hero” roles is racist and ethnocentric. “Avatar: The Last Airbender” creators Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko have stated multiple time that the story is Asian inspired – characters, costumes, scenery, everything. They envisioned a fantasy universe that dealt with Asian folklore, with cultural and image aesthetics derived from their respective Eastern roots. 

An additional angle of the “fantasy universe” defense is that this narrative is fictional and thus subject to interpretation in any adaptation – so why should “The Last Airbender” be sideswiped as an offense in its film adaptation? 

Foremost, a great many narratives are fictional regardless of the universe they occupy. Period pieces/history-based, science fiction, epic fantasies, thrillers, romances, psychological – these are all human narratives with fictionalized characters in their respective universes (the exception would be for nonfictions and autobiographies, but even the factual legitimacy can be called into question). When critics lambasted “Inglourious Basterds” as inaccurate and a rewriting of history, director Quentin Tarantino replied: 

“My characters don’t know that they are part of history. They have no pre-recorded future, and they are not aware of anything they can or cannot do. I have never pre-destined my characters, ever. And I felt now wasn’t the time to start. So basically, where I’m coming from on this issue is:

(1) My characters changed the course of the war.

(2) Now that didn’t happen because in real life my characters didn’t exist.

(3) But if they had’ve existed, from Frederick Zoller on down, everything that happens is quite plausible.”

Extending this to “The Last Airbender” story, the characters are presumably in a universe that is centered around what we otherwise identify with as Eastern culture. The characters themselves may not know it, but we know full well that they are analogous to many aspects of Asian culture. From the philosophies to the customs, the narrative of elemental benders lends itself to Eastern heritage; these characters don’t exist in real life, but in their universe they are very much Asian in roots, and with their existence comes the story popular and beloved by many fans of the series. 

With this in mind, Paramount’s casting is even more offensive and disrespectful. If they had any sort of cultural humiliation and decency, the studio would understand that they are in fact depicting cultures that have histories and legacies of human stories and accomplishments specific to the Eastern hemisphere in this narration, and to bundle it all up all nice and pretty with a Yellowface frosting is nothing short of ethnocentrism and institutionalized racism. 

But the voice actors spoke English in the original television series!

Of course they did. English is the predominant language in America, and let’s face it – most viewers prefer to watch instead of watch and and read at the same time. On the opposite fold, the anime series “Fullmetal Alchemist” is Western inspired with some Chinese and Middle Eastern characters – and yet they speak Japanese, simply because the production is Japanese and primarily marketed to a Japanese audience. Similarly, “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is an American production that was marketed primarily to a American audience that is predominantly English-speaking. 

Does this make “Avatar: The Last Airbender” any less Eastern or “Fullmetal Alchemist” any less Western?

No. The creators of each series have explicitly stated their respective influences: “The Last Airbender” creators DiMartino and Konieztko listed Asian culture and Hayao Miyazaki’s cinematic legacy as main influences for their narrative premise; “Fullmetal Alchemist” creator Hiromu Arakawa detailed how she researched the European Industrial Revolution and Western-based hypotheses on alchemy in order to flesh out a convincing world. 

Their narratives may be conveyed in the non-traditional language, but the narrative structure and influences are true to their origins in both series. This is what matters the most, and it’s what Paramount and Shyamalan completely misunderstand when they so thoroughly believe they are being “true” to the series’ distinctly Eastern cultural and aesthetic roots when they’ve casted White actors for the main roles. 

“Isn’t it time we stopped looking at race?”

NO. 

This argument flies from the ends of Shyamalan and Paramount defenders, who believe that in this day and age we should all be colorblind to race and its associated implications.

However, as presented in the PBS award-winning documentary “Unnatural Causes,” it’s been proven that ethnic minorities, compared to White Americans in the same socioeconomic statuses, have higher rates of chronic illnesses such as cardiovascular diseases and heart attacks than their white counterparts. 

These higher rates are the result of allostatic load and weathering – the resultant and combined stresses that can result from differing levels of racism that are either explicit or implicit. For instance, a Mexican lawyer with a degree from Yale who is followed around in a store would experience self-mediated racism; another example would be a African American doctor with a MD and PhD who sees a woman gripping her purse tightly when they ride the same elevator together, in which case he would also experience self-mediated racism. Both examples highlight how ethnic minorities experience a day-to-day incident of racism, and presumably these incidents activate a certain amount of distress (stressors) that subconsciously build up and cause them to be more susceptible to illnesses when the stressors inadvertently compromise their immunity. 

Consequently, ignoring the effects and significance of race, while a ideal vision, is inapplicable and inappropriate to current social and political infrastructures at hand. We must consider race as a factor in any case since racism still plays a active role in how people operate on a daily basis. 

This is not to say that we simply cast aside all inhibitions: if you’re in the projects, it’s generally a bad idea to assist anyone “find their lost dog in the alleyway.” What is important and relevant is understanding our own racist tendencies in order to begin rising above them; furthermore, comprehending that other ethnicities are people jut like ourselves, that their behaviors and lifestyles are governed by their own culture, histories and respective political and social infrastructures that they occupy. 

For these reasons, I was never a fan of the original “Karate Kid” because despite it’s casting of Noriyuki ‘Pat’ Morita as the famous Kesuke Miyagi (aka Mr. Miyagi), the story was a classic Western-style coming-of-age parable that, in a sense, shallowly alluded to Eastern philosophy for Western application and usage.

The newer adaptation with Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan – while not without its editing faults – dealt not only with a coming-of-age story but also with a universal message of humane goodness that unites us all despite cultural differences. The 2010 remake went even further to highlight these differences, and instead of exoticizing such discrepancies breaks away from traditional ethnocentrism and endorses cultural humility, a willingness to step away from an “all-knowing” outsiders approach.

This deep respect for Eastern cultural roots in the 2010 “Karate Kid” is gapingly missing from Paramount’s and Shyamalan’s approach in “The Last Airbender,” in which they so thoroughly believe in the appropriateness of their sidestepping Asian actors for White actors in the main roles, actors who could never fully empathize with the Eastern philosophies and aesthetics they are set to act out. 

A Personal Argument

There’s a reason why “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,” despite its untimely silliness, was so successful when it first launched in the US: for one, its cast was ethnically diverse alongside the awesomeness of gigantic monsters blowing up cardboard buildings and grey putty minions sidestepping haplessly as the rangers whooped their respective butts.  

I knew many Asian children (especially Asian American girls) who loved the Yellow Ranger Trini Kwan because she was played by the late Vietnamese-American actress Thuy Trang. They loved her not only because she kicked ass, but additionally because she was Asian. Many of the same girls also loved Fa Mulan in Disney’s 1998 “Mulan” for this same reason, and it was a major plus that she was voiced by Macanese-born American actress Ming Na. These women, these characters – they were them, they empathized and sympathized with their cultural roots, they were heroes. 

The point is that they had an Asian hero to look up to on the big movie screens and television series, that with these heroes they were assured that as Asians, they had value to some Hollywood and network executives. Above all, they were being represented, which meant that someone understood that as Asians they too comprised the American public. 

I can only imagine how many disappointed Asian American children will flock to the theaters only to see that their animated heroes are now depicted by White actors who could never truly empathize with their distinct Asian cultural roots. This is a movie that casted actor Jackson Rathbone, who believes that being Asian means “[pulling] my hair up, [shaving] the sides, and definitely [getting] a tan. It’s one of those things where, hopefully, the audience will suspend disbelief a little bit.”

Suspending belief, Mr. Rathbone? I believe the term you’re looking for is Yellowface. 

Closing Remarks

“The Last Airbender” had so much potential to break Hollywood’s tradition of racebending. Paramount disappointingly chose not to, and Shyamalan shamelessly agreed to the terms at the expense of his own cultural roots. 

I don’t blame the actors – they are simply looking for work in an unforgiving business, trying to make a name for themselves. And while their comments can be idiotic it must be noted that they were recruited by a larger institution that revels in racist assumptions. 

For these numerous reasons, I will not endorse this film. As a Vietnamese American, I find “The Last Airbender’s” production and casting a great offense to my cultural roots, and believe that Paramount – and especially Shyamalan – should be ashamed of themselves. Frankly, I hope they go down in film anthropology as infamous practioners of self-indulgent, self-delusional ignorance, stupidity and racism. 

I only hope that one day, if I happen to have a kid, that they will have someone to look up to on the big screen, someone that shares their innate empathy and understanding of their Eastern (and perhaps mixed) cultural roots. If not, I’ll be damned to get Hollywood away from wallet when they try to profit off of racebending and that blasted 3D gimmick they seem to love so much.  

For more information on the controversy, go here. For a satirical take on the issue, go here. 

YouTube series of personal reasons and messages in boycotting “The Last Airbender” film. 

Link to Roger Ebert’s response in the December 23, 2009 Answer Man column regarding “The Last Airbender” casting controversy. 

…

Edit on 7/9/10: A little over a week has passed this article has been published, and from the responses I’ve been getting it seems I may have missed a few key aspects about the controversy initially. For supplementary readings, here are a few links: 

Sunday Roundup 7/4/10 – Q&A for a lot of the feedback I received. This clarifies a lot of misunderstandings and misconceptions about what I’ve written. 

Cats, Cows, and Pies – A guest post by Viet Le of word/game, who perhaps articulated the most important point I missed in initially writing this article. I’m fortunate enough to be of his acquaintance and continuously bounce ideas off him and back.

Breaking Out of Suburbia

I have a confession: productivity was incredibly low post-Toy Story 3 writing. 

I thought long and hard for a good thirty seconds before realizing there was little to write about. I’d spent the entire weekend thinking about Pixar’s recent feat, taking notes on its production and laying out what I wanted to write and argue for. Beyond that I had nothing to muse or chew on. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Nil. 

And then it dawned on me – I had not bounced ideas for a few days. I’d been in the confines of my childhood home, back in the comfort of the suburbia I grew up in. It’s sunny, peaceful, quiet, clean, comfortable – the sort of environment old retirees love and aspiring minds suffocate in. 

Everyone drives everywhere here. The city is flat and spread out, a perfect example of urban sprawl. Bus lines exist, but most of its riders are from beyond the city limits. To the city’s credit, I’m seeing more people strolling and biking about than I remembered growing up, though perhaps there’s the possibility I wasn’t as observant before. 

Walking anywhere seems tedious and boring. The same old houses, the same old streets lined with pristine fences and walls, the same old look of a city planner who actively tries to hide the desert roots of the environment with imported grass and eucalyptus trees that barely mask the dry heat of the day. It’s all pretty looking – unnaturally in a sense, but pretty enough for those who enjoy it. 

These days, I spent most of the time in a place the complete opposite of here, this suburbia. I’m spoiled with people who enjoy mental dissonance as much as I do, who are willing to break comfort in pursuit of something well beyond the norm – progressive thought. The people are open to the idea of something different, enamored with it even. Everyone bikes and walks around, everything is within strolling difference, and wandering around will lead you to another hidden niche or gem. Sometimes it becomes overwhelming, caught up in so many ideas and thoughts and postulates – a mental overload in which I can’t chose between what I want to think about. 

So to be back here, back in the nostalgic familiarity of a environment – it’s always a bit strange. Old habits seep in, old memories play back, old friends are still here, and after awhile I can easily rescind back into the comfort of not thinking and simply relaxing aimlessly. 

It’s a narcotic-like state that’s hard to break, the resultant urban sprawl from a city planning dedicated to suburban perfection: a place devoid of cultural personality by insistence to adhere to a white white paint as opposed to a yellow white hue; churches claiming right to the true Jesus every few blocks, hoping to save as many sorry souls from the damnations of hell; the comfort of cleanliness due to hired out-of-town, hard-working first generation Mexicans who fulfill the city’s pruning and primping needs without so much a whine or whimper, ample and skilled at what they do to make a living and get by; the countless shopping plazas designed to keep every housewife happy with grocery stores and nail spas – it’s enough to deter anyone from trying to go beyond the sureness of career goals, enough to propel the restless into unwise rebellion, enough to break the greenest and most daring minds into submission after years of suffocating conformity. 

After awhile, this kind of environment makes you want to not think, to not challenge what is already in place. You want to, but somehow you can’t; your mind gets fuddled and fuzzled with the prospects of comfort, a reassurance of what has already been established and proven by those before you. It becomes intoxicating, a environmental temptation to simply stop fighting and just flow back into confines of safety and compliance. 

Of course, I have the gift of retrospect to get out of this rut – though unfortunately not in time to brainstorm something more interesting than the effects of urban sprawl. Don’t get me wrong, I love my hometown: it’s bittersweet, of course, from a mixture of childhood ventures filled with curiosity and happiness contrasted with teenage years filled with broiled resentment against the stifling effects of cookie-cutter mentality. I suppose that’s how it all goes, though, for those of us privileged enough to leave and return to our respective hometowns. 

But to return after the thrills of travel and experience, of seeing things beyond previously fathomed – it’s tough. Dealing with such differences in environment and remaining true to yourself as you’ve now progressed thus far – it’s not only difficult, it’s possible to relapse into old habits of thought, behavior and action. This is the real challenge so many have to overcome as a result of urban sprawl, to look it in the face and relinquish its gratifying rewards of cozy repose at the cost of mental stagnation. 

There’s a certain loneliness to dispelling comfort in the name of thought. But honestly, it makes it all the more worthwhile when after a series of bouncing ideas internally and externally, you eventually come up with something to say, even if it’s just a little bit. 

So thanks for the offer, suburbia, but I’ll keep breaking mold regardless.

Toy Story 3 - The Memories that Bind Us All

“Toy Story 3” is an amazing feat in storytelling. It accomplishes so many things in only 103 minutes that other trilogies and sequels – Star Wars, Back to the Future, Spider-Man, Indiana Jones, Ocean’s Eleven, The Matrix – never came close to: creating a film that is simultaneously continuous and very capable of being a stand alone. It is moving, smart, funny, dark, scary, sad, hopeful – all in an ingeniously conclusive end to one of the most beloved American stories that further reaffirms Pixar as a master of storytelling and animation. 

Warning: minor, mild and major spoilers in the article. 

It must be noted that all images of “Toy Story 3” were taken directly from trailers or were promotional stills released by Pixar. 

The Beginnings of Pixar’s Wonder and Magic

The original “Toy Story” captured the hearts of every viewer, for we all remembered our childhood filled with boundless imagination and innocence shared with and acted through our toys. It not only created incredibly human characters out of toys – pride, romance, jealously, insecurity, rational, etcetera – but established the sacredness, timelessness and preciousness of love shared between child and toy. Absolutely illogical and pure. Beautiful. 

“Toy Story 2” hinted about toy economics, specifically about their ultimate value and fate – would they become a priceless collectible or indistinguishable trash? We all know eventually a majority of childhood tokens will break, be sold or given away; such is the invariability of growth, maturity and time. However, in “Toy Story 2” Andy is still a boy and still very much in love with his toys, and that to prematurely succumb to the temptation of being a pristine collectible was unwise and ultimately unattractive – at the time, it was much more important and valuable for Woody to remain as Andy’s treasured toy, tossed and bounced and played about in pure bouts of love and joy. 

Both movies are classical childhood tales, tales based off imagination and incredibly human emotions. The politics and economics commanding the toys were hinted, but only enough to not distract away from the main focus of a child’s unbounded love for his toys. It was pure imaginative genius, touching and invaluable in message all at once – the touch of Pixar’s creative process and dedicated team. 

Unfortunately, Pixar’s genius was not valued by everyone when it first started. 

Eisner and the business of Circle 7

“Toy Story 3” was not originally planned by Pixar, nor was “Toy Story 2.” Both sequels were the result of Disney’s management and its desire to take over Pixar’s creative reins, spearheaded none other than Michael Eisner. 

Some of you remember all those terrible direct-to-video sequels that looked and felt like nothing the original theatrical releases:  "Aladdin 2: Jafar’s Return,“ "Pocahontas 2: Journey to a New World,” “The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride” – remember these guys? They had Eisner written all over them. He saw creativity as a product to be reaped and sowed and drained for all its worth. To him, the magic and wonder of Disney’s legendary status was nothing more than a profit margin, a business model. He considered Pixar no differently. 

“Toy Story 2” was initially a direct-to-video sequel, but upon seeing the in-work imagery Disney executives were so impressed that they requested it be turned into a theatrical release; however, the creative team at Pixar were not happy with the work, eventually getting John Lasseter back on board to rewrite the entire script and finish the film in a period of nine months (leading to some animators getting repetitive stress injuries) in order to meet Disney’s deadline. Additionally, since Disney felt that “Toy Story 2” was negotiated outside of five-picture deal they had with Pixar, it would not be counted as one of the films. This negotiation left a poor spot for Pixar, the first of many they would soon have with Disney’s CEO, Michael Eisner. In his own words, Eisner believed that “all creative teams go in cycles, and Pixar is riding for a fall." 

Nice man. 

Hoping to bully Pixar into a new contract that would ultimately favor Disney’s executive control over Pixar’s creative rights, Eisner created Circle 7 Animation to franchise Pixar’s characters and stories – it was exactly like his scheme with the flux of direct-to-video sequels during the Disney renaissance all over again. Circle 7’s first production would be "Toy Story 3,” in which Buzz Lightyear would have a defect, be shipped off to Taiwan, then on some adventure Andy’s toys go to rescue him as Buzz met some new friends along the way (in a sense, it was a carbon copy of “Toy Story 2’s” plot). 

The original promotional for Circle 7’s “Toy Story 3." 

This was a million-of-dollars attempt to bargain Disney as Pixar’s sole distributor – Michael Eisner style. Of course this led to the infamous split between Pixar and Disney in 2004 when Pixar CEO Steve Jobs and Disney’s Eisner bickered vehemently about how Pixar should be handled creatively and monetarily; only with Eisner’s departure from Disney in 2005 was Pixar able to renegotiate a much, much better contract with Disney: the new Disney CEO, Rob Iger, buried Eisner’s pet projects and all of his notorious footprints, and Pixar’s John Lasseter and Ed Catmull would run all of Disney animation. No more Eisner micromanagement, no more terrible and unnecessary sequels, no more "money money money!!!”-driven projects – it was a breath of fresh air back into Disney and the barrier Pixar finally overcame. 

Of course, one of the first decisions of Lasseter and Catmull was to dismantle Circle 7 and shelve the original “Toy Story 3” script far and away (in a generous gesture, they found work inside Disney for 140 of the 170 Circle 7 employees). Pixar once again had it’s prodigy back, safe and sound and away from the scary Eisner monster that lurks beneath the innocent beds of children’s hopes and dreams. 

The Challenge of Closure

“Toy Story 3” was no walk in the park. It took the minds of Pixar creative seniors John Lasseter (“Toy Story,” “Toy Story 2” and “Cars”), Pete Docter (“Monsters, Inc.” and “Up”), Andrew Stanton (“Finding Nemo” and “Wall•E”) and Lee Unkrich (film editor and co-director of several Pixar films) to come up with the story over a weekend at the same house where they originally conceived “Toy Story.” Stanton wrote the treatment, Michael Arndt (writer of “Little Miss Sunshine”) wrote the screenplay and Unkrich was slated to direct in his directorial debut. And hell, what a movie it was. 

The conclusion of the trilogy is significantly darker with subtexts extending well beyond the comprehension and significance of kid’s minds (Guatanamo bay, pyramid schemes, the manipulation of politics, effects of consumerism) that many older viewers are all too familiar and jaded with. And that’s just the thing: there is a certain jadedness that come with growing up. We become increasingly more self- and consciously aware of our surroundings, which in turn deters us from divulging into childhood fancies unhindered by logic or meaning and driven solely by love and imagination. 

Here, the main conflict is in the toys and Andy reestablishing their relationship and meaning to one another. The opening montage hauntingly ends with the famous musical phrase by Randy Newman, “our friendship will never die…” before fading into present day, presumably ten years later. Andy is 17, about to depart to college, and probably has not played with Woody and the gang for many years at this point. A futile attempt of the toys to be played with one last time before their assumed fate in the attic happens marks this rift:  the toys’ existence as childhood gems no longer resonate with Andy’s current transition in life from adolescence to young adult. It’s a sad opening, heartbreaking even. 

Woody, Buzz and the gang have long been self-aware of their own existence, economics and politics – however, this is brazenly clear and stated in the third installment as opposed to the first two, where the idea was presented but not particularly or deeply explored. After all, if Andy’s toys are, in a sense, sentient and aware of their own being, they must at least know their golden time with their owner must come to end. What happens and how they deal with it is the secondary conflict that drives “Toy Story 3” to greatness. 

When Woody and the gang are accidentally donated to the daycare center Sunnyside, they dive into a world populated with more toys than they could ever fathom beyond Andy’s childhood collection. The politics and economics, however, are iron-fisted by Lotso, and this in turn establishes what is otherwise an action-packed, comedic, dramatic and hilarious adventure for Andy’s toys to overcome and escape from in order to return to the comfort and familiarity of their home, Andy’s room. 

The middle act is nothing spectacularly original – a great many movies rely on this to bridge the opening and ending satisfactorily – but the driving force and ideas about toy economics and politics are very much so. To the unobservant or unempathetic, they may not notice that the middle arc subtly implies an overall thematic of the entire Toy Story lore: of the love between child and toy that transcends time through the sheer strength and significance of previous, everlasting memories. 

The middle act implies the simultaneous and last growth in the relationship between Andy and his toys: this is a pivotal moment of separation, and it is their memories and love that ultimately bind them to each other in the end. Woody is driven to go back to Andy as a testament that he and his friends are still somehow meaningful in Andy’s life – that Andy is now just a iteration of his previous self, but not entirely different, and that somehow the spirit and ghost of Andy’s childhood is very much part of the now older Andy. Reassurance and reestablishment are absolutely necessary at this point, and it’s what drives the toys to act and do in their current situation of anxiety, stress and uncertainty. 

In the end, the primary conflict of reassurance and reestablishment resolves after trials and obstacles of separation and despair presented in the secondary conflict; it helps Andy and his toys realize how in spite of the years of rift, they still and will always hold special places in each others hearts. The memories and emotions – those will always be there. Even when Woody and the gang will no longer be played with by Andy as they once were they now know that he still thinks of them, remembers them, cherishes them just as much as he once did – in mind and heart. And that’s enough for everyone to finally move on, to finally go with their respective life with the assurance and loving memories intact forever more. 

A Generational Difference

The reception and comments from critics demonstrated one of the greatest generational differences I’ve seen in awhile. Several critics have commented that this third installment lacked the heart the first two had and was significantly darker, that on several occasions it was unoriginal in conceit; some remarked that it was perhaps longer than needed; a few even believed that it lacked the emotional brilliance of last year’s “Up." 

What many of these critics fail to realize is that "Toy Story 3” tackles one of the most difficult points in life – the transition from teenage adolescence to young adulthood when one has just graduated from high school and is about to go afar to a college or university. It’s an incredibly difficult time period, filled with anxiety, uncertainty and even a fair amount of grief as parents cope with impending separation and the transitioning individual copes with sorting out tokens from childhood and adolescence and starting afresh as a young, eager-minded adult.

Spanish Buzz is full of win. 

This is not to say tackling and addressing the fate of toys when their owner reach this transition period was not implied previously. “Toy Story” and “Toy Story 2” hinted several times that the toys would ultimately need to deal with this transitional issue, but only now has the issue been fully addressed head on. 

Depicting these pivotal moments is incredibly difficult: it’s so easy to forget distinctions of immediate joy and grief that made up childhood; commonly, we indulge in notions of bliss and innocence, conveniently forgetting or ignoring incidents and characteristics that made them distinctly dramatic, comedic and human. Even more difficult is the distinguishing traits between the end of teenage adolescence and the beginnings of young adulthood – something that “Toy Story 3” daringly confronts unlike any other childhood fable I’ve seen to grace cinema. 

Judging from the feedback I’m receiving, “Toy Story 3” has people in tears. If anything, they like it more than “Up.” – Roger Ebert via @ebertchicago

I concede that the first minutes of “Up” were absolutely brilliant: the marriage montage left me teary-eyed, emotionally moved and shaken by its incredible conceit and execution. However, the rest of the story dives into a Man of La Mancha, Don Quixote-inspired parable style, with quirky sidekick characters derived from caricatures and little else. There was an adventure that led Carl to eventually let go and move on, yes, but compared to the brilliance of the opening there was little I found that remotely compared or came close to evoking the same emotions or empathy; it was cute and funny, but the emotional impact of “Up” belongs solely to its first few minutes. 

“Toy Story 3,” on the other hand, has been in the making for over 15 years. We’ve grown up with the characters, and our fond memories of the first two films still hold strong. Pixar has gone through countless negotiations and renovations with Disney before their current business and distributional status – all in the name of creating greatly emotional and human stories that are timeless and unbounded by the technology of their animation. 

This film’s emotional impact about adolescent transition resonates deeply not only with those going through the same or clearly remembering of such a period, but with the audience that remembers the trilogy’s conceit and overarching narrative; finally, we all have closure on the story of Andy and his beloved Woody, Buzz and other toys. It’s about how an emerging young adult deals with tokens from his childhood and remembering and reestablishing what and how much they mean to him – something that I’m sure all of us could sympathize and empathize with. 

Good-Bye, Old Friends

This is a moment that has been built up since 1995 when we first saw Woody and the toys charm and grace the screen with their emotions, drama and comedy. We all knew this time would come, when Andy would grow up and leave for college – but never could we have foreseen how he and the toys would conclude their years of fun, heartbreak and imagination. 

And now that we know they’re all in good hands – that little Bonnie will be their next keeper and that there will be added ears to the tenure before their ultimate conclusion – we at least know that to Andy, his toys will forever be icons of childhood, and that Woody and the gang share these same sentients – of childhood, of reassurance in their significance and meaning to one another, and of the timeless love of a child that is ceaseless and everlasting in ghost and memories. 

Good-bye, old friends. May your next adventure be as memorable as the ones you’ve shared with us. 

Icarus and his Copycats

It’s nice to think that in the history of the universe in the greatest probably likelihood there have been at least 100,000 other civilizations just as advanced as ours who were just as utterly convinced of their importance in the universe right up until the moment when they stopped existing – Viet Le 

I recently read an article titled Merely Human? That’s So Yesterday by Ashlee Vance of the New York Times. It’s a long piece, detailing the Singularity movement spearheaded by the likes of Silicon Valley, Google, Microsoft, NASA, and other technology entrepreneurs. In particular, there was a lengthy discussion of Mr. Raymond Kurzweil, a American inventor and futurist who in his own words, believes “we will transcend all the limitations of our biology” through singularity, for “that is what it means to be human – to extend who we are.” He and likewise others believe that technological ingenuity has the potential to solve worldwide problems, that they can create the greatest reset button in the history of mankind. And after I finished reading, all I could think of was this: 

Hadn’t I heard this before? 

My mind revved back and toggling through past history lessons, I remembered again and again similar declarations made by proud men who strut forth their innovations and said “ha-HA! This will solve society’s problems! Now we will have a greater and brighter future because of ___ !” It’s like a broken record, except each repetition is a slight variation of the previous motif: 

• Hunter gatherers diverged from nomadic life after farming and agriculture was developed for more sustainable and constant food supplies – then came the problem of irrigation and creating set communities, eventually societies that were dependent on their existing environment and paving the way to economics of trade and monetary values…

• Railroads, factories, streetcars and automobiles of the Industrial revolution developed for increased transportation, mobility and efficiency – then came social and health problems with smoke, fumes, barriers of old infrastructure and unregulated labor and production, and markedly establishes the origin of human dependence on natural carbon sources for engine combustion, petroleum, and the origins of rampant consumerism…

• Einstein postulates the theory of relativity, setting the basis for nuclear energy and the possibilities for alternative energy and other technology advancements – then WWII happens and Truman orders “Little Boy” on Hiroshima and “Fat Man” on Nagasaki, staining history with the devastations of radiation poisoning and the threat of nuclear weaponry…

• Penicillin is widely used during WWII and changes medical history, as doctors now have a remedy for bacterial infections that were previously painful or even fatal – then overuse and overprescription of antibiotics results in bacterial antibiotic resistance, causing scientists to constantly come up with new antibiotics while bacteria continue to exponentially gain resistance due to horizontal gene transfer…

• Genetically modified organisms (GMOs) take off, creating hardier crops and animal products that are more sustainable in certain areas that traditionally would not cultivate or encourage such production, thus increasing the food supply in lacking areas – then came the problem of natural selection favoring stronger GMOs over other unmodified species, resulting in extinction of plant species if respective GMO breakouts accidentally occurred…

• Plastic surgery is developed to reconstruct and correct form and function of the human body that results from birth defects or injury – then public demand for cosmetic enhancement sky rockets after numerous Hollywood stars open up about their respective procedures, ultimately resulting in multiple botched surgeries, a surge in black market procedures and advents going overseas for cheaper and/or unregulated enhancements…

Kurzweil’s and Singularity’s assumptions are all too familiar, sharing the same aspirational notion that all previous developments envisioned. The problem however is not in his vision – for it is surely a grand and futurist one – but in how he perceives the world and how it operates – and that he truly believes that “ultimately, the entire universe will become saturated with our intelligence, [for] this is the destiny of the universe." 

People will be people. Social, cultural, economic, religious and historical differences will always apply, and these may encourage or discourage the advancements that Singularity advocates. Yes, perhaps there is a possibility that with technology, we could live to be 700 years old – but for people who believe in the sacredness of the natural body, is this something they could ever endorse? How about the quality of life that goes with it? Will this development sustain in the course of change we cannot foresee? 

Additionally, there’s the economics and politics that will invariably carve and shape how Kurzweil’s and his colleague’s vision to manifest: as libertarian as they may be, singularity advocates are still operating within a society, and invariably their developments will have major effects on the societal and cultural establishments. Maintaining a sort of purity to their idea is unrealistic if they are unwilling to communicate effectively with the public they hope to help; compromise isn’t necessarily going to happen if developers play their cards right and fully understand what they’re dealing with. 

The singularity mentality is similar (if not identical) to that of James D. Watson, one of co-discoverers of DNA’s helical structure. Specifically, Watson believes that genetic engineering is the way to curing all of mankind’s problems – that in selecting genes for "intelligence” and “beauty,” humans can develop into improved beings after eliminating genetic diseases, “stupidity” and “ugliness” from the gene pool. 

What Watson and Kurzweil share is a strong belief that their way of thought could universally mend all of humanity’s problems – all without accounting differences in social infrastructures and cultural values across the globe. Who is to say what “intelligence” or “beauty” really are? And who is to say we could ever achieve complete and utter control and understanding of how the universe operates? 

No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes I just want it to stay saved! You know, for a little bit? I feel like the maid; I just cleaned up this mess! Can we keep it clean for… for ten minutes! – Mr. Incredible in “The Incredibles,” 2004. 

I am, of course, a skeptic of anyone who believes their vision creates a more perfected future. Countless times people have declared victory, proclaiming that the world’s problems seem to finally be under control – all until a new set of problems popped right back up in our unsuspecting faces, and then the cycle continues all over again. 

So assuming Kurzweil’s vision comes to life (and I have no doubts a good number of his ideas could easily come to fruition), I am rest assured there will be associated social, cultural, and/or political issues that spring forth like the woes of Hamlet. 

• Growing of viable transplant organs: human life can be extended, but there’s a good chance such viability could be privatized and prone to inflation and being exclusive only to those who can afford such. 

• Cement-like goop that allows builders to erect an entire house: labor costs go down, but construction workers lose their jobs and now you’ve got a subset of the population out of work. 

• Nanoscale machines injected into our bodies to constantly repair cells and their respective functions: we can now theoretically live to 700 hundred years old, but what are the implications for consummation, and more importantly how do we know if future technological development will render nano machines as obsolete or worse, exploitative and futile? 

These are just some hypothesis as to what could happen should the exceptionally optimistic visions of Singularitarians come to life. I am in no position to discount their possibility, but I thoroughly believe that a holistic understanding as to the limits of control is necessary whenever one attempts to remedy and tackle worldwide problems.  Social, cultural, political and historical considerations are equally as important as one’s understanding of science, engineering, medicine and technology, and vice versa. 

We are a sentient and cognitive species – that is for certain. And though we may continuously strive towards the ultimates of truth and knowledge we are still subject to the universe and its very foundations. These are our innate limits – of our own construction and of the universe’s governing rules – that will continue to perpetuate strives towards greatness and problems that arise from such pursuits. 

Though I am curious to see if the meaning of life really is 4. 

A Brief Introduction to Punches, Kicks, and Explosions

I’ve been watching the 2010 World Cup lately. I’m a big fan of football/soccer and grew up playing it before physical injury and time ended my athletic career; watching the games, I can’t help but yell in support and outrage as players rush down the field in mad dashes to score and defend in the name of national pride. Odd, though, is that my experience as a broadcast viewer is both nostalgic and observatory – the result of multiple shots pieced together in a cohesive transmission. 

There’s something unique when one experiences such athleticism as a television spectator: oftentimes the events are framed as establishing shots, encompassing the field/court and panning left and right; occasionally the broadcasts are interspersed with close ups of the players to detail athletic prowess, enlighten upon results of a called foul, or provide reactionary shots of the players themselves; and every once in awhile, there is the unusual crane or aeriel shot as additional angles and perspectives for replay and consideration post facto. 

The result is that television spectating is both objectively aloof and personally engrossing – by seeing both the scale of the playing field and the expressions of players, television spectators are both overseeing judges of the teams’ abilities and sympathizers with intermittent glimpses into the players’ actions – in short, it’s both a very objective and subjective experience, and it’s the same basis for creating an effective action sequence in film. 

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2000. 

When piecing together an action sequence, it is important to understand the technical and aesthetic components of framing; more important is knowing when, how and how much to use different shots in order to create an engrossing and cohesive sequence. Intents and styles differ, but the aim of creating a coherent and visually unique progression of fists, kicks and guns is what every filmmaker hopes to achieve when cinematic narratives require of such. Here are some types of shots, their corresponding examples, and notes on the effects of overuse: 

 Kung Fu Hustle, 2005. 

Establishing shots put everything into context – the environment, the people involved, and the stakes at hand. It is probably one of the most important shots to incorporate in any action sequence since the viewer needs a sense of relativity in order to fully comprehend the scale of the action occurring. Overuse dulls the action sequence, maintaining too much of an objectivist’s lens and detachment from the power and emotion of the players and stakes at hand. 

 Cowboy Bebop, 1998. 

High-angle shots adds an objective feel to what is happening on screen, almost as if one were gazing directly downwards like a Greek muse. There is, in a sense, a level of detachment from the immediate action like an establishing shot except that this framing style is notably more clinical – imagine looking at bacteria on a petri dish under a microscope and (hopefully) this analogy may make more sense. Overuse becomes visually strenuous since the viewer cannot directly see the players facial expressions and thus have a harder time engaging and sympathizing with the action. 

 Enter the Dragon, 1973. 

Full figure/medium/close up shots are oftentimes reactionary and engrossing in intent. These are the kinds of shots most viewers are very familiar with, as action sequences are most glorified or jarring with these types of framing. Multiple angles and cuts on the editors desk add additional movement to what is occurring, and what may look silly from afar could easily look exceptionally impressive or brutal up close.

 Why hallo thar, Transformer 2. 

Overuse becomes claustrophobic, messy and incomprehensible as to what is actually happening; worse is that the viewer becomes tired and desensitized to the action, ultimately resulting in disengagement and boredom. 

 The Bourne Ultimatum, 2007. 

Hand-held cameras add an additional intimacy to what is occurring, almost as if the viewer is in the immediate action alongside the players. They are often employed for medium/close ups, follow shots, or even long takes of any sequence. 

Cloverfield, 2008. 

Overuse can easily result in sloppiness, obscurity, and even nausea. 

 Children of Men, 2006. 

Long takes are probably one of the trickiest shots to pull off – the wire-walkers of filmmaking. It requires incredible planning, patience, and distinct vision as to how the action plays out, and a conscious effort to maintain the viewer’s fullest attention. It is particularly strenuous on the actors, director and cameramen involved; multi-takes are not uncommon, and though digital effects can stitch together separate sequences into a seamless take it is nonetheless one of the most technically demanding envisions possible.

Oldboy, 2003. 

However, if everything is planned and dictated accordingly, the long take can be one of the most aesthetically and narratively rewarding stylizations of action (even narrative) sequences, creating a feel of uninterrupted observation and engagement of the viewer. 

The Dark Knight, 2008. 

These are just some basic ideas in constructing any action sequence. Of course they’re not absolute, but like all other things they’re important to consider when framing any choreography of punches and flips and pain. As the basis of stylizations and notable trademarks, different shots, frames, and angles are what make any action sequence unique in itself. Film, games, sports – whatever your cup of tea happens to be. And hell, what a sequence we could possibly see.