“Megalopolis”? More like mega-flop it is!

Last week I went to see “Megalopolis”, the latest (and last?) film by Francis Ford Coppola. In the past, a Coppola production was usually something to relish, and I was looking forward to this addition to his canon of work. I purposely avoided reading any reviews beforehand; I was aware that this movie had endured a long gestation, and had experienced a number of challenges during production, so I did not want to arrive with any preconceived ideas. I wasn’t even aware of the plot or the cast.

Oh dear – what a disappointment. For something that was 40 years in development, and reportedly cost $120 million of the director’s own money, it was one of the worst films I have seen in a long while. No wonder it has attracted a very small audience, judging by the box office receipts. At the screening I attended, there were only 4 people in the entire cinema.

Despite the promising plot, the stellar cast, and the director’s own distinguished career, nothing can rescue this dog’s dinner of a film. It’s so bad on so many levels. First, the use of a voice-over to explain the plot is often a dodgy narrative device – especially as the narrator in this case is neither the main protagonist, nor an impartial observer. Second, the script and much of the acting is painfully bad – plodding, hackneyed, derisory, derivative and at times just plain over-wrought. Third, the set design looks cramped and feels claustrophobic. Many of the costumes are straight out of a Christmas pantomime, giving rise to an unintended comic effect. And as for the CGI images of the future city, it’s as if the design team simply gave Dall-E a few prompts and rendered the results on screen wholesale, without any editing or quality control.

At times, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be watching a Batman movie directed by Baz Luhrmann, or Christopher Nolan’s take on “Julius Caesar”.

I think part of the problem is that the characters and events that the film attempts to satirise are actually beyond parody. They are soft, obvious targets; and no matter how outrageous the story line, it can never out-do real life, or upstage current affairs. No doubt, the timing of its release is designed to raise questions about current social and political events, in the USA and elsewhere. Venal, vindictive, incompetent and impotent politicians; tech billionaires and media moguls who think they can determine election results; nepo babies who think they are talented just because of their family connections; social media influencers driven by a sense of their own entitlement and self-importance.

But it’s all been done before, and in many cases, far better.

Next week: Pudgy Penguins come to Melbourne

 

 

Postcript on Tarantino vs Ritchie

One of the most popular entries on this blog is about the film directors Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie. I can’t really explain the amount of traffic this article has generated, but I’m glad readers seem to like it.

I recently watched Guy Ritchie’s latest film, “The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare”. And since Tarantino has signalled his intention to stop making movies, I can’t help feeling that Ritchie is attempting to pick up the baton from where Tarantino has left off. Because “The Ministry…” comes across as Ritchie’s version of “Inglorious Basterds” – but more like “The Italian Job” than “Dirty Dozen” or “Where Eagles Dare”.

This competition between film makers may not quite equal the creative rivalry between The Beach Boys and The Beatles in 1966-7, but it will be interesting to see what each director does next.

Next week: Unintended Consequences?

 

AI and the Human Factor

Earlier this month, I went to the Melbourne premiere of “Eno”, a documentary by Gary Hustwit, which is described as the world’s first generative feature film. Each time the film is shown, the choice and sequencing of scenes is different – no two versions are ever the same. Some content may never be screened at all.

I’ll leave readers to explore the director’s rationale for this approach (and the implications for film-making, cinema and streaming). But during a Q&A following the screening, Hustwit was at pains to explain that this is NOT a film generated by AI. He was also guarded and refrained from revealing too much about the proprietary software and hardware system he co-developed to compile and present the film.

However, the director did want to stress that he didn’t simply tell an AI bot to scour the internet, scrape any content by, about or featuring Brian Eno, and then assemble it into a compilation of clips. This documentary is presented according to a series of rules-based algorithms, and is a content-led venture curated by its creator. Yes, he had to review hours and hours of archive footage from which to draw key themes, but he also had to shoot new interview footage of Eno, that would help to frame the context and support the narrative, while avoiding a banal biopic or series of talking heads. The result is a skillful balance between linear story telling, intriguing juxtaposition, traditional interviews, critical analysis, and deep exploration of the subject. The point is, for all its powerful capabilities, AI could not have created this film. It needed to start with human elements: innate curiosity on the part of the director; intelligent and empathetic interaction between film maker and subject; and expert judgement in editing the content – as a well as an element of risk-taking in allowing the algorithm to make the final choices when it comes to each screened version.

That the subject of this documentary is Eno should not be surprising, either. He has a reputation for being a modern polymath, interested in science and technology as well as art. His use of Oblique Strategies in his creative work, his fascination with systems, his development of generative music, and his adoption of technology all point to someone who resists categorisation, and for whom work is play (and vice versa). In fact, imagination and play are the two key activities that define what it is to be human, as Eno explored in an essay for the BBC a few years ago. Again, AI does not yet have the power of imagination (and probably has no sense of play).

Sure, AI can conjure up all sorts of text, images, video, sound, music and other outputs. But in truth, it can only regurgitate what it has been trained on, even when extrapolating from data with which it has been supplied, and the human prompts it is given. This process of creation is more akin to plagiarism – taking source materials created by other people, blending and configuring them into some sort of “new” artefact, and passing the results off as the AI’s own work.

Plagiarism is neither new, nor is it exclusive to AI, of course. In fact, it’s a very natural human response to our environment: we all copy and transform images and sounds around us, as a form of tribute, hommage, mimicry, creative engagement, pastiche, parody, satire, criticism, acknowledgement or denouncement. Leaving aside issues of attribution, permitted use, fair comment, IP rights, (mis)appropriation and deep fakes, some would argue that it is inevitable (and even a duty) for artists and creatives to “steal” ideas from their sources of inspiration. Notably, Robert Shore in his book about “originality”. The music industry is especially adept at all forms of “copying” – sampling, interpolation, remixes, mash-ups, cover versions – something that AI has been capable of for many years. See for example this (limited) app from Google released a few years ago. Whether the results could be regarded as the works of J.S.Bach or the creation of Google’s algorithm trained on Bach’s music would be a question for Bach scholars, musicologists, IP lawyers and software analysts.

Finally, for the last word on AI and the human condition, I refer you to the closing scene from John Carpenter’s cult SciFi film, “Dark Star”, where an “intelligent” bomb outsmarts its human interlocutor. Enjoy!

Next week: AI hallucinations and the law

 

 

Perfect Days – and the Analogue Life

Last week I watched “Perfect Days”, Wim Wenders’ lyrical film about a gentle soul who diligently goes about his daily labour accompanied by a soundtrack of classic songs. Most of the featured music is 50-60 years old, and all of it heard via cassette tapes – no radio stations or internet streaming services were harmed in the making of this film!

Not only does our hero cling to cassettes, we never see him use the internet, e-mail or a smart phone. We don’t even know how he accesses his money – presumably he gets a weekly wage packet containing cash, so no need to visit an ATM or pay with a credit card. To cap it all, he doesn’t own a TV, and his hobbies include reading second hand paperback books, taking photos with a 35mm film camera, and cultivating plants from cuttings he finds in the course of his daily routine.

We don’t really need to know his backstory, although we get the occasional glimpse. What we are presented with is someone who is living an outwardly simple life, almost exclusively analogue, and with very little technology involved. (In fact, the public toilets he cleans for a living are far more hi-tech than anything in his personal world.) I suspect for many people, our empathy for the character’s disposition may easily become envy at how stripped down and uncluttered a life he leads. The fact that he doesn’t appear to have any family or other obligations (and doesn’t have to spend hours in pointless team meetings or on endless Zoom call) no doubt help facilitate this state of being – yet we suspect there is a lot going on in the inside.

But it is certainly a parable in favour of all things analogue.

In fact, as I write this I am listening to a recent album by Tarotplane on a cassette player. He is one of many contemporary musicians who choose to release their work in this format, and along with the recent vinyl revival, they are helping to keep analogue alive. It’s a trend we can see in events like Record Store Day (and it’s younger sibling, Cassette Store Day), books by Damon Krukowski and Robert Hassan, and symbolic vinyl moments in recent film and TV shows such as “Leave the World Behind” and “Ripley”. In the former, the absence of internet and streaming brings a turntable into play; in the latter, a clutch of 7″ records (in picture sleeves!) are among the few possessions the eponymous hero chooses to take with him. Elsewhere, Lomography continues to find new fans of film photography, and on a recent visit to Hong Kong, I was surprised at the huge display of Polaroid cameras and film at Log-On department store.

Not all this fascination with analogue is about nostalgia, fashion, or fadism (or even fetishism). In some quarters, people are becoming concerned that their favourite films, TV programmes, music and video games may disappear from hosting services and streaming platforms, or their cloud storage may get wiped. So they are keeping analogue versions and hard copies as a back-up.

Finally, and picking up a thread from “Perfect Days” itself, I’m not entirely convinced that a 1975 Patti Smith cassette is worth $100, but I do own an original copy of a very rare cassette that has sold for as much as $180… probably because it has never been reissued, is not available to stream or download, and is a great example of early, DIY electronic music made on basic synths in the early 1980s. You couldn’t imagine an mp3 ever commanding that sort of price, unless it was in the form of an NFT, of course.

Next week: False Economies – if it’s cheap, there must be a reason!