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Gareth von Kallenbach (965 KP) rated Transcendence (2014) in Movies
Aug 6, 2019
First time director and Academy award-winning cinematographer Wally Pfister (Inception, The Dark
Knight Trilogy) takes on an ambitious film both visually and thematically for his first attempt at the
director chair. And while he hits all the visual cues you would expect from someone who has worked
so closely with Christopher Nolan on several films, he does less so when it comes telling us a story
that works in the world that he is presenting to us on screen. And thus this film falls flat, muddled and
fragmented in its story.
Visually the film provides you with framing and movement that that is easy to follow and pleasing to
look at. Along with the score, the look of the film constantly feels like it is taking you somewhere grand
or eye-opening. However it never quite gets there as the passage of time is not clear which creates a
fragmented sense of reality.
Furthermore, because of the structure of the film, the viewer is expecting a form of payoff or definitive
stance from the message of the story. But instead the story falls flat upon itself by not clearly defining
the characters motivations on screen. That is not to say that the film is acted poorly, it is just that
there really isn’t any reason to believe the motivations of the characters because they were never
shown to us. We are supposed to believe that the love between Johnny Depp as Dr. Will Caster, the
leading artificial intelligence researcher and his wife Evelyn (Rebecca Hall) is the reason why the plot is
developing. But we are never truly shown the reason why their love is so strong. Furthermore, when Dr.
Caster is shot to stop him from furthering his research, his own wife Evelyn barley even sheds a tear.
Why then would I believe her ridiculous motivations to follow a self-aware artificial intelligence that she
believes is her husband, down the rabbit hole for years without constant reassurance that it is in fact her
Husband, which we never really get any explanation of? Nor do we get any reassurance that she loves
him, other than an occasional had touching a computer screen. I get that people greave in different
ways, but not all ways work on advancing a story on film.
Perhaps the biggest disjointed story development is when the Caster’s close friend and colleague Max
(Paul Bettany) is kidnapped by extremists for two years and no one is looking for him. Furthermore,
when he reappears after being told that two years has passed, he is now trying to stop the evolution of
AI that he helped create without more than a mere sentence. The film keeps reminding us that people
fear what they don’t understand, which is right. I fear I don’t understand the motivation behind the
characters without being shown or explained what happened to them or why they are doing something.
As if this was not enough, at no real point did any of ancillary characters matter. Cillian Murphy
represents the government at large as the lone FBI agent in the film. But his purpose is meaningless as
he does nothing to stop anything suspicious until the final act. What is worse, is that he was brought in
to stop the extremist (that are mostly forgotten after the first act) but then sides with them to attempt
to stop the AI. The same AI he let grow out of control in the first place.
I am not even going to go into the “pod-people” plot as it seemed as a way to try to advance the story
to an ending. As if these good scientists, who are just trying to help the world, have crossed the line or
something. This, which Evelyn still doesn’t see a problem with and continues to allow for years until
Morgan Freeman shows up and tells her to get out of her situation and away from the AI. At which
point, she mulls it over for perhaps a day and decides she is done. Ugh. You have come this far with no
reason, why stop? Just keep going?
I, like most movie goers, am willing to suspend my disbelief as long as the reasons for what I am
watching on screen make sense in the world shown to me. A few scenes here or there that provided
explanation or reason why is should care about these characters would have been appreciated and
helped this movie be less disjointed and muddled. Because of this, I really cannot recommend this film
to anyone except those who want to think abstractly about AI. But be warned, thematically, there is no
clear stance on weather that is good or bad either.
Knight Trilogy) takes on an ambitious film both visually and thematically for his first attempt at the
director chair. And while he hits all the visual cues you would expect from someone who has worked
so closely with Christopher Nolan on several films, he does less so when it comes telling us a story
that works in the world that he is presenting to us on screen. And thus this film falls flat, muddled and
fragmented in its story.
Visually the film provides you with framing and movement that that is easy to follow and pleasing to
look at. Along with the score, the look of the film constantly feels like it is taking you somewhere grand
or eye-opening. However it never quite gets there as the passage of time is not clear which creates a
fragmented sense of reality.
Furthermore, because of the structure of the film, the viewer is expecting a form of payoff or definitive
stance from the message of the story. But instead the story falls flat upon itself by not clearly defining
the characters motivations on screen. That is not to say that the film is acted poorly, it is just that
there really isn’t any reason to believe the motivations of the characters because they were never
shown to us. We are supposed to believe that the love between Johnny Depp as Dr. Will Caster, the
leading artificial intelligence researcher and his wife Evelyn (Rebecca Hall) is the reason why the plot is
developing. But we are never truly shown the reason why their love is so strong. Furthermore, when Dr.
Caster is shot to stop him from furthering his research, his own wife Evelyn barley even sheds a tear.
Why then would I believe her ridiculous motivations to follow a self-aware artificial intelligence that she
believes is her husband, down the rabbit hole for years without constant reassurance that it is in fact her
Husband, which we never really get any explanation of? Nor do we get any reassurance that she loves
him, other than an occasional had touching a computer screen. I get that people greave in different
ways, but not all ways work on advancing a story on film.
Perhaps the biggest disjointed story development is when the Caster’s close friend and colleague Max
(Paul Bettany) is kidnapped by extremists for two years and no one is looking for him. Furthermore,
when he reappears after being told that two years has passed, he is now trying to stop the evolution of
AI that he helped create without more than a mere sentence. The film keeps reminding us that people
fear what they don’t understand, which is right. I fear I don’t understand the motivation behind the
characters without being shown or explained what happened to them or why they are doing something.
As if this was not enough, at no real point did any of ancillary characters matter. Cillian Murphy
represents the government at large as the lone FBI agent in the film. But his purpose is meaningless as
he does nothing to stop anything suspicious until the final act. What is worse, is that he was brought in
to stop the extremist (that are mostly forgotten after the first act) but then sides with them to attempt
to stop the AI. The same AI he let grow out of control in the first place.
I am not even going to go into the “pod-people” plot as it seemed as a way to try to advance the story
to an ending. As if these good scientists, who are just trying to help the world, have crossed the line or
something. This, which Evelyn still doesn’t see a problem with and continues to allow for years until
Morgan Freeman shows up and tells her to get out of her situation and away from the AI. At which
point, she mulls it over for perhaps a day and decides she is done. Ugh. You have come this far with no
reason, why stop? Just keep going?
I, like most movie goers, am willing to suspend my disbelief as long as the reasons for what I am
watching on screen make sense in the world shown to me. A few scenes here or there that provided
explanation or reason why is should care about these characters would have been appreciated and
helped this movie be less disjointed and muddled. Because of this, I really cannot recommend this film
to anyone except those who want to think abstractly about AI. But be warned, thematically, there is no
clear stance on weather that is good or bad either.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Tales from the Loop in TV
Jan 22, 2021
Such is the competition for our attention on the major streaming services, and such is the daunting depth of choice, that sometimes something of real quality can slip through the net for a while. I like to think that eventually, everything gets the audience it deserves, because eventually enough people that appreciated it will find it and pass it on. But it is apparent that good things can go under the radar very easily for one reason or another.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.