THE CRITIC-AL LIST
Reviews by Alan Jones
5 STAR FAB - 1 STAR RUBBISH

The Sorcerer's Apprentice
Inception
Predators
The Twilight Saga:Eclipse
Toy Story 3
Hot Tub Time Machine
Iron Man 2
Repo Men
The Collector
Clash of the Titans
Shelter
How To Train Your Dragon
Kick-Ass
Shutter Island
Alice In Wonderland
The Crazies
Case 39
The Wolfman
Legion
The Lovely Bones
Black Death
Daybreakers
Avatar
Ninja Assassin
The Descent: Part 2
Amer
The Twilight Saga: New Moon
The Box
2012
Disney's A Christmas Carol
The Horseman
Solomon Kane
Pandorum
Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs
District 9
An Education
G.I. Joe: The Rise Of The Cobra
Orphan
A Perfect Getaway
The Imaginarium Of
Doctor Parnassus
Up
Harry Potter
And The Half-Blood Prince
The Taking of Pelham 123
Transformers
The Revenge Of The Fallen
Antichrist
Terminator Salvation
Last House On The Left
Inglorious Basterds
Angels & Demons
Adventureland
Star Trek
Crank: High Voltage
Coraline
Dragonball Evolution
Let The Right One In
Drag Me To Hell
Race to Witch Mountain
Knowing
Monsters Vs. Aliens
Not Quite Hollywood
Lesbian Vampire Killers
Martyrs
The Children
Surveillance
Watchmen
The Unborn
The International
Friday The 13th
Franklyn
Push
Punisher:War Zone
The Good The Bad And
The Weird
Hush
Underworld
The Rise OF The Lycans
My Bloody Valentine
Bolt
Slumdog Millionaire

Directed by Neill Blomkamp. Starring Sharlto Copley, Jason Cope and Nathalie Bolt. Action, SA/NZ, 2009, 112 min.

Director Neill Blomkamp’s ‘apartheid against aliens’ chase movie falls into the same camp as Duncan Jones’ recent MOON. Only those unfamiliar with the shrewd synthesis of past political sci-fi movies would think either was that revolutionary. In the case of MOON, its genre predecessors include SILENT RUNNING and THX II38. Blomkamp’s undeniably exciting and commendable effort is a stew of ALIEN NATION, V and three decades of TV series, comic books and video games filtered through a now de rigeur mockumentary found-footage CLOVERFIELD aesthetic.

Nothing wrong with that of course until the nagging questions set in and the Peter Jackson production morphs into a typical action cross between THE DEFIANT ONES and TRANSFORMERS. Over twenty years ago an enormous UFO mothership (a terrifically iconic image) began hovering over Johannesburg, South Africa. Inside were an alien species, something akin to bio-mechanoid shellfish (derisively dubbed Prawns), which were stranded and clearly needed help. Shoved into heavily fortified slums controlled by voodoo-practicing cannibal Nigerian gangsters, it’s now up to MNU (Multi National United) jobsworth Wikus van de Merwe (Sharlto Copley uttering ‘Fooking’ a lot!) to oversee an ET relocation program aimed at finally moving the unwanted visitors. Problems start when Wikus is contaminated with alien fuel, begins transforming into a Prawn and is hunted by mercenaries because of his sudden ability to use the intergalactic bio-weaponry. Then he meets a Prawn named Christopher and his son desperately trying to mend the buried hub of the mothership’s flight system so they can finally leave their hellhole shantytown and return to the stars… DISTRICT 9 uses pseudo-news reportage to tell it’s story at first. This peters off when the main core of the plot swings into cliché action (complete with last-to-die annoying lead villain) and the whole apartheid allegory gets over-played (enough with 'The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency' style tribal wailing on the soundtrack!). While the WETA special effects are seamless and the CGI enhanced social-realist panoramas are outstanding, it’s the main character and plot inconsistencies I found hard to submerge. Wikus switching between whiney nerd to gung-ho risk-taker every other scene becomes more than tedious.

As for details like, how can humans understand the Prawns’ clicking language, if Christopher’s son is such a computer genius why didn’t he fly the plane that Wikus’ trashed and why would fuel mess up human DNA anyway, don’t get me started! Okay, I know it’s only a movie! But when DISTRICT 9 is gushingly praised as being an exception-to-the-rule masterpiece, then it shouldn’t stumble in such key areas or become so unsteady as it marches along. Yes, it’s a creditable crack by a rising talent. Yes, it’s a semi-riveting space-ager with a highly interesting backdrop. Yet for all that there’s something missing in this eventually muscle-bound racial parable.

Alan Jones

© London FrightFest Ltd. 2000-2009
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