2008 Woodie Awards
Pop culture: The monsters are coming
Inspired by Eric Ward
Sarah Viets
Issue date: 2/18/08 Section: Opinions
Don't forget, it's a conspiracy! While our national leaders repeatedly speak of red and orange terrorist alerts, while they warn us of "illegal" invaders, our American leaders inspire fear.
Or do they?
Why am I so jittery? Do I subconsciously mistrust what's unknowingly familiar? And if so, what am I so uncertain about? Do we crave fear, or do politicians campaign on behalf of trepidation?
Science fiction and horror movie reels are no longer a past-time fave. They're here and each show is filled with wide-eyed anxious moviegoers. Recently a friend of mine urged me to see what the fuss was all about.
After I buttered my popcorn, we found our favorite seats. The evening's selection was "Cloverfield.
The beginning of the film starts off with a bang. "Cloverfield" intensifies my emotions by shooting the film documentary-style for 90 minutes, the entire length of the film. The lens shakes. It quickly jolts back and forth without any precise course. I struggle to follow each scene. It's as if I'm chasing the lens without any clear direction.
But in the mix of mayhem, tranquil footage flashes between unpredictable events. Family members are lost; smoke, rubble and fresh blood fill the streets; military tanks explode and no matter where the lens turns human life clings on the edge of extinction. An instable chaotic state transpires from the screen. Uncontrollable events morph anxiety with fear. There's nowhere to turn. The city is under siege and no one is safe.
An hour and a half later, my nerves tightened. I felt anxious, intense, a little distorted but clear and purposeful at the same time. But what was my direction?
I was unsure, but I was confident of a few things: the only people I trusted were my blood and inner circle of friends. I examined anything outside of what was familiar with doubt and uncertainty. Unfamiliar faiths, distant lands and different shades of skin were subconsciously categorized as unidentifiable cultures, the "unknown," a perceived difference.
Or do they?
Why am I so jittery? Do I subconsciously mistrust what's unknowingly familiar? And if so, what am I so uncertain about? Do we crave fear, or do politicians campaign on behalf of trepidation?
Science fiction and horror movie reels are no longer a past-time fave. They're here and each show is filled with wide-eyed anxious moviegoers. Recently a friend of mine urged me to see what the fuss was all about.
After I buttered my popcorn, we found our favorite seats. The evening's selection was "Cloverfield.
The beginning of the film starts off with a bang. "Cloverfield" intensifies my emotions by shooting the film documentary-style for 90 minutes, the entire length of the film. The lens shakes. It quickly jolts back and forth without any precise course. I struggle to follow each scene. It's as if I'm chasing the lens without any clear direction.
But in the mix of mayhem, tranquil footage flashes between unpredictable events. Family members are lost; smoke, rubble and fresh blood fill the streets; military tanks explode and no matter where the lens turns human life clings on the edge of extinction. An instable chaotic state transpires from the screen. Uncontrollable events morph anxiety with fear. There's nowhere to turn. The city is under siege and no one is safe.
An hour and a half later, my nerves tightened. I felt anxious, intense, a little distorted but clear and purposeful at the same time. But what was my direction?
I was unsure, but I was confident of a few things: the only people I trusted were my blood and inner circle of friends. I examined anything outside of what was familiar with doubt and uncertainty. Unfamiliar faiths, distant lands and different shades of skin were subconsciously categorized as unidentifiable cultures, the "unknown," a perceived difference.
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