The Official Black Owl Review of "Cloud Atlas."

I’m writing this right now in 2012 on a 2008 Macbook because a guy named Ed Yarborough bought a southern Arizona radio station in 1992.  Oh, and because of a butterfly ballot in Florida in 2000.

See, I worked for an FM rock station in Sierra Vista, Arizona starting in 1990, but in mid-1992 the competition purchased us outright.  There was talk that we would not be fired, and the format wouldn’t change, but I wasn’t buying that.  I was 20 years old and already had a wife and baby; I was not going to base the ability to feed my son on the word of a small town media mogul.  So, I joined the Army.

In 2000, the butterfly ballot in Florida was arguably responsible for the selection of the President.  Three years later, the winner of that dispute invaded a country in the Middle East.  The War would go on for the next nine years.

In 2008, I returned from my second deployment to that Middle Eastern country, and with extra money earned during deployment purchased the very laptop upon which I now type four years later.  (It’s a Mac; she’ll last forever.)

So here’s this chain of seemingly unrelated events that can be traced back from my present to my past, or forward from the 20 year old boy I was to the 40 year old man I am; I am who I am because of events like this chained together through my life. 

And, I have interacted with people: an out of work actor from New York who took a temp job as a translator for the Army in Bosnia; a man with a Doctorate in Physics who took an enlistment in the US Army to expedite his citizenship (and was still only an E4); a former member of the clergy who left the Church in anger; a woman I replaced in not one but TWO assignments through the years who happened to have graduated from my High School thirteen years before me. 

All the ripples they made in my life and service, all there because of events or people in their own lives like those that influenced me in a repeating cycle of cause and effect running back through the people around us, and our own forbearers.  Again, I am here in part because someone named Forrester decided to leave his home town and go to England in the 1300s, and then that person’s descendent—now going by Foster—decided to leave that home and head for a new continent in the late 1700s. 

These ripples, these connections, this web of human interaction and action and the consequences thereof: that is the central theme of the film “Cloud Atlas.”

 Is the film “about” reincarnation?  No, I don’t think so.  It would be easy to say yes, and any given character played by a single actor (Tom Hanks alone plays no less than six characters, and Jim Sturgess seven!) is intended to be that person reborn, or anyone who shares the comet shaped birthmark is indeed a soul returned.  IN places, characters react as if they remember one another from each story.  Rather, in retrospect I think that’s almost just a red herring.  The idea isn’t the actor; it’s the theme behind characters who recur between the six different stories.  In the final (chronological) story, Hugo Weaving plays not just the heavy, but also seemingly a figment of Tom Hanks’ goat herder’s imagination.   Not nearly as disturbing as Weaving’s gender switching portrayal of a Ratchet-like nurse in a 2012 rest home in England.  Point is, that nurse was not reincarnated into a hallucinatory devil… it’s the, well the character of the character.  If the familiarity between 1970s Tom Hanks and Halle Berry does come from the idea their souls were together elsewhen, then it is a bold statement, as they truly come together in the final story.  It speaks to an amazing idea I have myself toyed with that if the soul does return to another living existence in this world, there is no reason it should be constrained by linear time; my next life could be a thousand years ago.

As with any great work of art, the film’s subject to interpretation of course; perhaps it was exactly reincarnation, but to me the joy was watching the connections between the stories play out, the seeds planted on a ship in the 1850s coming to bloom in a future some 100 years after a cataclysmic fall of civilization… a single object affects two men thousands of years apart, but one that wouldn’t be there without the connected threads of history stretching back and forth throughout time.  A struggle in the mid 22^nd Century provides a religion for the distant future.  A book written in one time by a character provides another time frame’s character a distraction.  This connectivity speaks to the human condition whether one accepts the spiritual overtones or not: we are connected; all of us, and the actions of any of us can affect all of us. 

How connected are the six stories?  Some more strongly than others, some explicitly, some implicitly (is the composer’s dream in the 1930’s really of Somni~451’s Fabricant café in Neo-Seoul two hundred years later?  Has Luisa Rey in 1975 really heard the “Cloud Atlas Sextet” somewhere before?) but it may be a simple statement that history—great and small—is a cycle.  Anyone who’s read Strauss and Howe’s work on the repeating 80-year cycle of American history can understand that*.  As situations happen again (this has all happened before…) we see whether or not humanity has the capacity to learn from what has gone before.  Keep in mind as well, any one of these stories could work independently.  Separately, each would be a fine diversion; woven together they get to what really gave me joy when watching this film.

It’s about the art of storytelling.  The film opens and closes on a wizened storyteller relating some series of events which may or may not include these tales.  Each timeframe is about someone who is themselves trying to have a story told: be it an abolitionist’s trip to the south seas; a young composer telling the love of his life about the work he is doing at the feet of a more famous (but fading) composer; a journalist getting to the bottom of some form of nuclear power conspiracy in the 70s; a publisher in 2012 relating his forced incarceration in a rest home as a book; a manufactured human in the 22^nd Century trying to tell the world she feels, is alive, loves; two people from entirely different survivor cultures post-apocalypse trying to tell those who already left Earth what has happened to those who stayed behind; and again to our ancient raconteur putting it in context.  The film itself is masterful storytelling that steps into the realm of metafiction to celebrate masterful storytelling.  I could get into the set pieces—any one of which would be worthy of notice if the segment were itself a film—or the makeup taking well known actors and transforming them across ethnicity or gender to make sure we understand the most important connection these characters all have: They are human. 

I have spoken elsewhere about my feelings of humanism driven not in spite of, but rather by my faith.  These stories, this film, spoke to me on that level, not trying to hide the ugly side of human existence, but still exalting what we can do when we bother to acknowledge our interconnectedness.  It defies the idea that natural order is one group over another, but rather that natural order is…us.  We the living, all God’s children, the whole of the race, whichever system’s phraseology you want to use.  “Cloud Atlas” is indeed an abridged atlas of the geography of human history, the hills, the valleys, the obstacles, the roads, and those too are us. 

It is not a film for everyone, and it does play a little long in some places.  However, it’s the first time in a long time (dare I say since the Wachowskis gave us the original “The Matrix”) I have seen a movie that strove for true originality and didn’t just regurgitate the formula labeled “popular film.”  I can’t wait to see it again…multiple times.

*If you have not read “Generations: The History of America’s Future from 1584 to 2069” you absolutely should. Published in 1992 with a strong and strengthening economy, the authors predicted a new depression would start somewhere between 2007 and 2012.  The book is a fascinating study of just how much we are slaves to history. 

(Images property of Warner Brothers)

Roads?

No planning here; in fact I’ve been working on another essay altogether, and this one just struck me. (To be totally forthcoming, I am as I actually post this to the blog doing a quick read-over for editing, but not changing content itself.)  It will likely ramble a bit as it is being born as I write it, and the birth process of an idea is as messy as the actual event upon which the allegory is based. 

I am reading a rather fascinating essay in it’s own right.  This author is a rather insightful 17-year-old film fan who spent two years writing a 130 page treatise on the cultural significance and deeper meaning of the seminal film Blade Runner.  He loves the film as much—more—than I do, and though he could use a good professional editor (couldn’t we all?) he’s got some wonderful ideas about the various cuts, and the greater context of cinema in the year 1982, upon which he can look with a less biased eye as he didn’t yet exist to have experienced it first hand.  I saw many of those movies in the theater, so of COURSE I think it’s the best year movies have ever had.  The fact smart kids think so too is rather refreshing.

While discussing the type of future in which Blade Runner is set he quotes another simply wonderful film—albeit from a couple of years later—Back to the Future.  We all remember that last scene: Doc Brown in with his now garbage/fusion fueled time machine comes to take Marty McFly into the magic world of 2015 (screw you, Mayans) where famously Brown notes, “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”

I’ve been watching that film repeatedly for NEARLY as long a time as Brown and the McFlys traveled into the future.  Yet only now discussing potential futures does the profundity of that statement strike me.  “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”  Sure, Brown means it literally as evidenced by the flying Delorean, but think of the broader interpretation.  We’re heading for the future, and the way things are now are not the way things will be forever.  Right now we live in a nation webbed with asphalt connecting every single point with every single other point.  We live in an automobile culture (I have written elsewhere about our adoration of our cars), but one day we will beyond that.  Someday, we won’t need roads. 

Let’s get beyond the auto/road idea though.  The way in which we now live will not be the way our descendants will live.  Hell, the way we are living now won’t be the way we live 30 years from now, any more than we are living the same way as 30 years ago.  Sure, no moonbases or even widespread flying cars, but the amount of connectivity between people and information—even in the poorest of nations—changes the destiny of those nations (ask Egypt).  The way we shop, the way we get places, the way we eat, the content of our music and fiction; given only 30 years, all these things will be lost… like tears in rain (couldn’t miss that one).

With change so inevitable, we have no choice but to change ourselves, and honestly the more we fight it, the worse it will be.  Instead, we have an opportunity to shape that future.  We can cling to the past, or we can change those things we should change.  We don’t need roads; we don’t need to follow a path just because we always have.  We can ask ourselves what new way we can create to ride those ways of change. As one of my favorite futurists, Warren Ellis, states in his remarkable work Transmetropolitan, "The future is an inherently good thing."

Let’s take one more look: “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”  Imagine a world where we make decisions not to follow those darker paths, not to oppress or attack, but to act with care for our fellow humans, and with the honest intent to improve the world around us.  You feel over legislated?  When we, as a species, stop causing trouble and start working together, we don’t need to be policed or governed, we can just live.  A place where we don’t need roads.  That sounds pretty cool. 

So thanks Doc Brown for getting my attention.  Reminding me the future can be bright if only we—all of us—want it to be.  We can’t take this on singularly, we can’t just “take care of ourselves;” we have to be responsible for our fellow humans.  Because as much as things change, it is always us in the middle of it, and in 10,000 years our nature hasn’t changed nearly as much as it should.  You can’t separate yourself from the world, from the responsibilities we have as a species.  Any of us are only as good—or as bad—as all of us.  If you don’t think so, go back and read whichever book you think serves as instructions for life; not one of them I am aware of says you’re on your own.  Not Darwin, not Jesus, not Buddha, not YHVH, they all tell us about an essential collectiveness to our species.  Act on it…

…so we don’t need roads.

Unified Field Theory: Adama squared.

It's been a while since I simply dropped into full geek mode here on Black Owl, but I've had one festering for a while in the back of my head, and I think it's time. This is my unifying theory to unite the classic Glen Larson Battlestar Galactica (henceforth “GL”version), with the modern Ron D. Moore, “greatest-TV-show-ever-made-according-to-Dan” version (RDM version). There will be spoilers for both shows, so if you haven't seen or finished either, but plan to, it may be time to turn away now. You've been warned.







First, I must establish some ground rules here. I am reluctant to include Galactica 1980 in the canon as any more than an interesting thought which met the poorest execution imaginable. Indeed, setting the arrival of the Galactica to Earth in 1980 not only puts a kink in my theory, it also contradicts the Classic Galactica episode “The Hand of God” in which the ship intercepts a transmission from the Earth Apollo 11 mission to the Moon. I freely admit science was very shaky on the original show; it was never really established whether or not the Galactica even had a faster than light drive, though lightspeed travel is mentioned on a few rare occasions. Terms like “solar system” and “galaxy” are used interchangeably. I think we have to accept that there is some form of super-luminal drive however, and further that the Galactica is still pretty far from Earth at the end of season one. G1980 claims thirty years have passed since the Cylons destroyed the colonies, putting that destruction around the Earth year 1950. Unless the first season of classic Galactica is actually twenty years long (and it obviously isn't), they could not have intercepted the Moon landing. Perhaps they are moving at relativistic speeds, thereby suffering time dilation effects, but then Baltar, during his time spent with the Cylons, would have aged at a different rate than the Colonists. Besides, the Apollo transmission itself is only moving at the speed of light, so depending on how many light-years the Galactica is from Earth at intercept, it has to be that many years after the famous Moon landing on Earth. Therefore, if the Galactica is twenty light-years from the signal's origin, it is already 1989 on Earth.

I will however give 1980 credit for introducing the first human looking Cylon, which actually ties into my theory very well. After all, this has all happened before and will all happen again.

I submit that despite the fact the RDM show follows the exploits of a particular group of survivors, there would have been more. We know the Pegasus was finding other civilian ships, and doubt they found all of them. Anders' little band of merry Pyramid players can't be the only people in the mountains on Caprica when the Cylon bombs fell. Eleven other planets had to have some survivors. Yes, many would have been herded up and out when the Cylons claimed Caprica, but humans are remarkably resilient, and it does not seem that far fetched some were waving good-bye when the Cylons left Caprica to go meet up with the escaping Colonial fleet at New Caprica (as seen in “The Plan”).

So, while Kara Thrace and William Adama are off with Gaius Baltar realizing that the Cylon god-entity is in fact...God, there are a number of poor schleps mucking about on the twelve colonies who have no idea that the machines which tried to kill them are all part of an ongoing cycle of evolution throughout the universe. All they know is what our cast knew in season one: Humanity came from Kobol to found the twelve tribes, there's a thirteenth tribe out there somewhere called Earth, and by they way, we are all a bunch of poly-theists. Now of course, they are living in the ashes of holocaust, and there are problems with radiation and the like, but there is also an essential distrust of technology, and a new dark age. While Adama is burying Roslin and choosing to swear off technology, the Capricans are kind of forced into it, but still not too happy with robots.*




We know from RDM that two things happen when the Colonists settle on Earth and scuttle the fleet: one, a surviving group of “toaster” Cylons take a Basestar and go off to find their destiny; two, Humans and Cylons mix ingraining certain things into our racial memory. Their decedents will accept their zodiac, worship their gods, and eventually, with an eerie accuracy, re-discover their technology. There's 150,000 years in which to do so.

So during that 150K, what's happening in the 12 Colonies, and what's happening with our Toaster friends?

On Caprica, and the other colonies, the human race is growing again. It's going to take time; the aforementioned radiation is going to be an issue, as is the diminished population. Humans will survive though, and eventually rebuild a civilization as the Colonies of Kobol, as they were before, but with more flowy chiffon clothing. Eventually there will even be technology, and a new fleet of Battlestars. Indeed, perhaps the cycle plays out a couple of times in this period. GL Galactica may not be the first time the Capricans rise from the ashes. For this theory to work though, we do have to accept that the Colonists have lost track of how long ago humanity left Kobol; in accordance with Genesis and the Book of Mormon (on which many original BSG concepts are based) humanity came to be on Kobol only 6000 years before GL BSG takes place, brought into existence by the Beings of Light. It doesn't seem to difficult to believe those histories will be renewed by any successive generation of Capricans, confusing events in their past, but keeping the basics the same (see our own histories and Noah, Atlantis, Gilgamesh, and the Navajo story of Turtle).

Meanwhile, the surviving Toasters who leave New Earth, return to their old stomping grounds, perhaps in an effort to trace their own origins. They return to space near Kobol and the Colonies. They evolve. They start the cycle again. Perhaps those Toasters decide they still want to become organic, but not human. In GL Galactica we find out their Cylons began as a reptilian race eventually overthrown by machines... what if the origins of those reptiles were in fact the surviving Cylons from RDM Galactica, attempting a different kind of biological evolution, but instead repeating the cycle?

The result is the same. A thousand year (yahren) war between humans on the twelve colonies, and the Cylon Empire. While you and I, human/cylon decedents ourselves, are heading toward the cycle again with little ditties like the industrial revolution, the creation of pocket calculators, and eventually computers, and Bob Dylan's “All Along the Watchtower,” it seems GL Galactica is happening, and repeating the great cycle. Perhaps as racial memory, some of us even suspect such a thing is going on:

There are those who believe that life here began out there, far across the universe, with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of the Egyptians, or the Toltecs, or the Mayans. Some believe that there may yet be brothers of man who even now fight to survive somewhere beyond the heavens.

There are still a few mysteries here: who exactly ARE the Beings of Light and Count Iblis? Perhaps survivors of the original Kobol or original 13th Tribe (Cylon Earth), or “Angels” not unlike Head Six and Head Baltar from RDM? (I'm a little partial to the idea that perhaps somewhere there are other copies of the Final Five, and Count Iblis is a last remaining Cavil who survived the battle at The Colony.) Are the other human worlds the GL Galactica finds (Terra) also descendants from Kobol, or left over survivors from the RDM Cylon apocalypse? Is Dirk Benedict Starbuck the messianic figure Kara Thrace was? Should we count Galactica 1980? It does feature Dr. Zee, a human/Being of Light hybrid, who may be that series' Kara; and as mentioned before, GL Cylons making human versions, starting the great cycle themselves. Then I see flying motorcycles and say 'no.'

So that's the basic idea. The two Galacticas are in the same universe, but the earlier version actually happens after the newer version. Imagine Lorne Greene's rag tag fleet arriving to our world, just as our own Cylons begin to exhibit behavior not quite so subservient... say! I smell a fanfic coming on!





*As an aside, I have heard a number of people tell me they cannot believe the surviving Colonists who make it to New Earth at the end of RDM Galactica would give up technology so easily. I submit you may be off a different opinion when your iPods commit genocide and start a four year chase across the galaxy to do nothing more than kill you. Suddenly, my favorite playlists seem a little less necessary.