Sunday, December 11, 2011

"The Truman Show": Hidden Camera Social Commentary


1998's poster for "The Truman Show".
The Truman Show” (1998), directed by Peter Weir, is a film fixed on deception. It opens with a scene reminiscent of 1950s “Leave it to Beaver” – picket fence and all – as viewers follow Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) through the beginnings of what seems to be a normal day. He exits his one-story ranch style home with briefcase in tow, waves at his neighbors, bids farewell to his wife (who, of course, is staying at home to eagerly await the return of her bread-winning husband, and perhaps bake or sew), and leaves in his Buick for work. He never stops smiling.

                But soon, things seem to change. The film begins to reveal to the viewers that things are not as pleasant in the town of Sea Haven. We witness actors leaving for breaks, set pieces being moved, and hidden cameras following Truman everywhere he goes. In time, Truman begins to catch on too, and before you know it, everything that he had ever thought was true has to be questioned. His wife, boss, best friend; they’re all fake. Actors. Everything is a lie. The bulk of the film comes when Truman realizes and begins to react to this.

                “The Truman Show” isn’t afraid to make you ask questions; or, if need be, ask them for you. It is a satire that makes no qualms about urging you to question your surroundings, the things you trust. It is darkly humorous in the way that it highlights and exposes the natural compulsion we all feel as humans: the one that gives us the ability to cheat, steal, lie, and hurt others for our own personal gain. With the help of a stellar performance by Jim Carrey, ”The Truman Show” is largely successful in poking fun at these desires, but I assure you that the lesson that is present at the film’s core won’t leave you laughing.

                And it isn’t supposed to. The irony within “The Truman Show” is that it uses dishonesty to remind its viewers of one universal truth: people, in general, are inherently bad. These qualities are on display in nearly every character in the film. Truman’s best friend Marlon (Noah Emmerich) is only an actor who has pretended to grow up alongside Truman, living in the same world that he does for Truman’s entire life. And the savage director of the television show that Truman unknowingly stars in, who pulled him from the crib at birth and made him a test subject for millions of people to watch, sees Truman through eyes with dollar signs in them. To him, Truman is nothing more than a cash-cow. Even Truman himself shows flashes of badness, from the way he so easily accepts the world he has been given, to the way that he reacts once he finally discovers that something is up.

                The film’s biggest success is that it manages to communicate these ideas without being overbearing or trying to say too much. The social commentary tucked beneath the humor of Jim Carrey and the unique plot are so tasteful that they are barely noticeable. The cast is superb and the plot is second to none, and it all combines to create what seems to be a timeless classic film.

The rest of the world sees Truman through hidden cameras like this one.
                “The Truman Show” is nothing if not unique. It warns viewers of the dangers of complacency, demands that they question the world around them, and it reminds us all that people, no matter how close, are still people, failures and all. It is successful as an entertaining film, featuring a high profile actor that is guaranteed to make you chuckle from beginning to end. What really makes it soar though – the thing that will keep people watching over 12 years after its initial release – is the delicacy with which it handles the touchy subjects, the way that it encourages folks to want better, and the way that it does all of this without you even realizing it.

"The Walking Dead" are Treading on Thin Ice


AMC's "The Walking Dead" on Sundays at 9:00 pm EST.
Like the world it takes place in, AMC’s “The Walking Dead” features a plot-turned-upside-down that offers hope to zombie fans, but continues to drag viewers along from nightmare to nightmare of poor pacing and melodramatic writing with only hints of rescue.

At its inception in 2010, Frank Darabont’s “The Walking Dead” (adapted from the ongoing comic book series by Robert Kirkman) aimed to offer viewers something that few chapters of zombie-lore had before: an intimate and ongoing glimpse into the lives of a small group of survivors during zombie Armageddon. The series set its sights on going beyond the movies of George A. Romero and crew; the cameras don’t stop and the credits never roll on “The Walking Dead,” and everyone knows it.

There are times throughout “The Walking Dead” where the series achieves that goal. The pilot episode features a captivating, if slightly worn (pulled almost directly from 2002 film “28 Days Later”), exposition that paints a likable character in main protagonist Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) and provides an engaging beginning to what could be a great series. More than once during this hour and a half-long installment will you find your guts churning at something other than the ultra-realistic gore – like the scene where Rick stumbles into what used to be his home in search of his wife and child, only to find some empty drawers and a few missing photo albums. The mental breakdown he experiences then is effective and believable; Rick’s sadness becomes your sadness (thanks to some decent acting by Lincoln), and this small town sheriff adds depth to his character by showing some vulnerability.

Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) sees his family for the first time.


The following episode loses some of its shine, though, but still seems to charm you into watching by introducing new characters and threatening to kill them; these additions add a new dynamic to the show – just like real people would – but are largely archetypical and one-dimensional in scope.

The series continues to dull in episodes three, four, and five, and then, by episode six, like the day you had to take a baseball bat to your best-friend-turned-zombie’s head after already watching him be eaten, the series has gone from bad to worse.

Surprisingly, what plagues “The Walking Dead” most are not the zombies (called “walkers” in the show) – it suffers from a slew of hitches brought about by its failed quest for identity. The series swerves drunkenly back and forth on the very thick line between high-profile action shows like “24” and “General Hospital”-like soap operas, stopping at each briefly to imitate it in a sometimes embarrassing public-display-of-insecurity.

But this balance is not unobtainable (see: episode one), which is why it must be frustrating for viewers to shamble through several episodes filled with poor pacing and forced melodrama. For every one thing “The Walking Dead” does right, it’s bound to do three or more things wrong, and the brilliance of each success makes the following failures all the more inexcusable.

Some characters make bonehead decisions – like the time when Glenn (Steven Yeun) drives a stolen car back to camp with its alarm blaring, knowing damn-well that walkers are drawn to sound – and others are just unlikable or too one-dimensional to care about. In a series that is character-driven and uses tension between survivors or an unfortunate death to advance the plot, this should not happen.

“The Walking Dead” is now in its second season and looks to have clenched a third, but nothing has changed. The series still suffers from an unevenly paced plot – the cast has spent the last four episodes searching for the even-less significant daughter of a minor character, even though it took less than two episodes in season one for Rick to find his family – and the characters are largely the same, with a few welcome exceptions. Much of what seemed promising at the beginning of season one has been squandered thanks to a staggered search for identity, and, if something doesn’t change soon, it won’t be the zombies that scare viewers away from “The Walking Dead”; it’ll be the disappointment of its unreached potential.