Category Archives: sf

Mercury 13 (2018)

Regardless of whether you think NASA is a Masonic front agency that shields any number of black budget deep state projects, there can be little doubt that it serves as a very potent propaganda arm for at least three key pillars of progressive piety: environmentalism, scientism and social justice. Arriving a mere two years after the comparably themed and equally hamfisted agitprop known as Hidden Figures, Mercury 13 is a documentary chronicling the abortive attempt at a program aimed at preparing women for space flight. Though it is an interesting nugget of hidden history, it’s hard to imagine the information presented without the filmmakers leaning on so much communist, progressive and feminist preaching. What is revealed through interviews and archival footage is fascinating, but there are deeper questions behind the surface details that go unexamined. And in the case of John Glenn, a distinctly different and far less charitable picture is painted than the gender egalitarian we were given in Hidden Figures.

The documentary lays its cards on the table right out of the gate. It opens with a female voice intoning the feminist homily as we watch a female body float in the zero-g simulation tank. We’re given some very standard and tiresome twaddle about how fear is what motivates men to preserve their stature in society. If only the patriarchy wouldn’t be so fearful, we’d already have women on the moon, dammit! Mind numbingly stupid stuff. It’s also hard to avoid the water symbolism. Besides the water’s numerous associations with the moon and various goddesses, it also foreshadows the quasi-baptismal initiation rites to which these women were subjected.

The documentary offers up a mixture of archival news footage and interviews with the surviving members of the original Mercury 13 program. The backstories of the various women are compelling, but the Mercury 13 program was never officially part of NASA and received funding from the husband of world renowned aviator, Jacqueline Cochran. Jackie Cochran’s husband was industrialist and RKO media mogul, Floyd Bostwick Odlum. The interview footage pours on layers of sentimentality over the fact that these women were eminently qualified, but were ultimately denied by the horrible, sexist good old boys at NASA. More feminist pablum. It’s totally predictable, but the deeper story appears to be Odlum and his very Bruce Wayne-esque investment trust, Atlas. Funding the Mercury 13 was undoubtedly chump change for a high roller like Odlum, but one wonders what someone with so many industrial, utility, and media interests is up to by funding a group of women for space flight. Given his proximity to the Wall Street/Bolshevik funding network, his interest in the Mercury 13 project seems to make more sense. Nowadays, tech moguls like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk are getting into the private space race in earnest. Even if it was a small investment, it’s hard to imagine someone as shrewd in business as Odlum throwing money at something without some larger payoff in mind.

The other unexplored story is the prime mover of the Mercury 13, William Randolph Lovelace II and his Lovelace Respiratory Research Institute. Lovelace’s daughter, Jackie, is a featured interview subject and dispenses some crucial backstory plus all the requisite feminist talking points. His involvement in the development of Project Oxcart is perhaps the real story beneath the surface. Oxcart was a code name given to the high speed surveillance aircraft program. Not only does the Oxcart project mostly explain the entire Project Blue Book disinformation campaign, but it also explains the mythology behind Area 51 since it has been revealed as a staging area for testing.

And then there’s Lovelace’s rather mysterious death. A small private plane crash is a story that’s occurred on more than a couple occasions involving people who were close to the military/intelligence complex. It seems more innocent than the numerous dark clouds which hover over Frank Olson’s mysterious death as we discover in Erroll Morris’ excellent Wormwood documentary. Given his involvement in such secretive military programs, the nature of his demise begs a few questions.

Where Hidden Figures plied the racial angle of identity politics, Mercury 13 is very explicitly a piece of feminist and communist propaganda. It appears most blatantly through the story of aviator, mother and militant political activist, Jane Hart. Wife of Senator Philip Hart and mother of eight children, Jane became deeply disillusioned with what she perceived as an unjust prejudice against the women of the Mercury 13 program. Subsequently, in the words of her own children, she became “more radicalized” and joined the National Organization for Women. While NOW may not have the distinction of being founded by a known CIA asset, it receives funding from known globalist organizations such as the Open Society Foundation and the Rockefeller Family Fund. But the major blow to the future of women in the space program comes from an unexpected source: the congressional testimony of Jacqueline Cochran. A crestfallen Jackie Lovelace reads her testimony as though feminist Jesus instantly became Judas. Disingenuously claiming that “feminism means you advocate for women”, Lovelace restrains her incredulity as she reads from the congressional record. Cochran insisted that allowing women into the space program would have a negative effect on birth rates. Ooh. The truth hurts. Naturally, Lovelace and the other subjects attribute her motivations to self-interest by not-so-subtly insinuating that the patriarchal pressures of NASA were too great to withstand. Right. That’s the explanation for every disparity and misfortune that befalls women. I look forward to the documentary which chronicles all of the women being shut out of sanitation, mining, construction, and armed combat.

Naturally, the subjects heap piles of praise over the USSR’s decision to send Valentina Tereshkova into space while venting their exasperation over America’s patriarchal backwardness. It’s the perennial rhetorical grift of feminism coupled with a tacit endorsement of communism. All disparities in outcome can be chalked up to sexism and discrimination, and if we just got #WOKE to communism, we might EVOLVE. Read some Catharine MacKinnon, bigots.

Lastly, there’s the question of esoteric symbolism and numerology embedded in the program. From an alchemical standpoint, Mercury is symbolized by a serpent. Exoterically speaking, the serpent symbolizes the deceiver who brought about fall of man. From an adept esoteric point of view, the serpent is the symbol of the divine spark of gnosis. From a numerology perspective, both 7 and 13 have significance in the hermetic and esoteric tradition. Why did they make these decisions?

The documentary brings us up to the present by offering the testimony of Eileen Collins who gushes about the inspiration she drew from the original Mercury 13. Naturally, we’re dutifully reminded that it was feminist extraordinaire, Bill Clinton, who named her the first female to command a space shuttle. Man, the Clintons are #WOKE. Juanita who?

History matters and there’s a lot to learn from history, but ideology shapes the filter through which history is perceived. Mercury 13 is an interesting piece of history, but it’s too cluttered by its editorializing. The final sequence actually uses CGI to paste in the image of a female astronaut over John Glenn’s image. They cut to the footage of the Apollo astronauts on the moon and overdub female voices in place of the voices of the original astronauts. It’s so seamlessly done, it’s very easy to imagine someone thinking that this was real footage. Or maybe reinforce the belief held by some that the moon landing was faked. Like Hidden Figures, it blurs the line between fact and fiction. You can have propaganda or historical integrity. Not both. Which film stretched the truth more in order to advance its ideological goals? Hard to say despite one being a “documentary”. Is the distinction between documentary and historical drama being blurred on purpose for the express purpose of dumbing down the population? I think yes. The line between the synthetic and real is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish in the digital age and Mercury 13 is hastening this collapse. Perhaps this was the goal from the start. Maybe the Mercury 13 project was doomed from the outset, but was intended to be unearthed from the historical record and utilized as a propaganda tool for this moment in history. Call me a cynic, but given how carefully the architects of globalism tend to their designs, I wouldn’t rule it out.

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Wizards (1977)

I suppose I’m no different from others in that I hold the belief that the pop culture of my youth is vastly superior to today’s. I’m at a point where all I see is an odd mixture of hyper-PC agitprop and a mind numbing conveyor belt of destructathons that are bereft of meaning. Or a combination of both. Admittedly, my elders undoubtedly held the pop culture of my youth in disdain, but I still perceive a sharp contrast between then and now. Among the films for which I reserve a great deal of affection is Ralph Bakshi’s animated sci-fi fantasy epic from 1977, Wizards. In contrast to the sanitized, monolithic preachiness found in the messaging of today’s animation, Wizards is a relic from an era where liberals were trying to transgress the boundaries of cultural norms and it actually felt rebellious. That’s not to say Wizards is devoid of ideological programming, but it is remarkable to observe how yesterday’s radical vision would never see the light of day in today’s climate of supercharged cultural politics.

Wizards is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi/fantasy reimagining of the story of Cain and Abel stripped of its theistic underpinnings. As hard as it tries to conjure its own moral mysticism engaged in an epic clash of good and evil, it retains a nihilistic inertia at its core. Though it is satisfying on its own terms as a work of fantasy, the fact that it is a piece of cultural programming with a presumed youth oriented message requires that we evaluate its merits. When you open your film with a monologue which reengineers Genesis, you’re not exactly making agenda-free entertainment.

The world blew up in a thousand atomic fireballs. The first blast was set off by five terrorists. It took two million years for some of the radioactive clouds to allow some sun in. By then, only a handful of humans survived.

In place of some kind of creation event, Bakshi is giving us mass annihilation while suggesting the concept of eternal return. Man is trapped in a deterministic wheel of time which is marked by an inescapable struggle between the forces of technology and magic. Why bother even trying to make the world a better place if mutual mass destruction is an inevitability? The reference to five terrorists is also an interesting piece of predictive programming because Bakshi is already hinting at the world of independent acts of terrorism we currently inhabit. Whether it’s a reference to a past act of terrorism like the Munich Massacre or the Entebbe incident is an open question.

Two million years after the nuclear armageddon, actual humans remain mutated monsters. In the good lands, the “true ancestors of man”, elves and fairies, resurfaced. As humanity’s primeval ancestors, elves and fairies are apparently good by default simply as a result of their belief in magic and being in tune with nature and shit. At a big celebration, the Eve of this post-apocalyptic ancient future, Delia, is mysteriously drawn back to her home to give birth her immaculately conceived wizard twins. The moral character of Avatar and Blackwolf is apparent right away. Avatar is handsome and sweet and therefore fated to be good. Blackwolf is a surly and mean spirited mutant who apparently has nothing but hatred and malevolence in his heart. There’s no attempt to portray morality as something with an independent metaphysical reality in the divine mind. Instead, it’s simply biological luck of the draw and Blackwolf got the bad hand.

Upon Delia’s death, Avatar and Blackwolf engage in a cataclysmic struggle for global supremacy. Blackwolf is vanquished and is forced to retreat into the radioactive wasteland while Avatar presides over the peaceful land of Montagar. Just like every other piece of sci-fi or fantasy, Bakshi is solely concerned with the struggle for political dominion in this world.

Ensconced at his castle headquarters, Scortch One, Blackwolf begins his preparations for conquest. Using black magic, he summons a high command of demonic generals to lead an army of mutants who are initially enslaved through his Nietzschean will. Whether this period of research and experimentation in Blackwolf’s career of evil is Bakshi’s encoded reference to the alleged Nazi fascination with Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s mystical works is also up for grabs.

He then formed an army whose generals were called up from the black shadows of hell. Souls who waited for untold eternities for a new leader, Blackwolf’s tremendous power enslaved them all to carry out his will.

His armies lacked the motivation and inspiration necessary to carry out mass extermination so he sends his minions out to uncover the lost technology of the pre-apocalyptic world. Not only does he begin to build actual military vehicles and weapons, he harnesses the most powerful weapon of all: mass media. By unearthing the propaganda and iconography of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime, Blackwolf becomes a post-apocalyptic, mutant wizard fascist. Though the usage of technology and media is presented in a one dimensional way, this is arguably the great editorial masterstroke of Wizards. Bakshi himself is imprinting the one absolute moral negative in the postmodern, multicultural, materialist consensus: Nazism. In 2018, the spectre of fascism is perhaps the one and only universally denounced evil for anyone living in a Western country. In the wrong hands, a demagogue can use mass media to awaken the racial and national consciousness of the white race and drive them to commit unspeakable violence against Jews, blacks, Muslims, LGBTQIAPP2 folx, liberals and socialists. No one else is capable of comparable levels of evil though. Especially not communists. What’s less explicit is that Bakshi is using the exact same tools as Blackwolf to promote this very one sided view of evil, propaganda and the abuse of state power.

Analogous to Vaughn Bode’s futuristic killer in name and design, Blackwolf deploys Necron 99 to carry out an assassination against the president of Montagar. Pushing the envelope of the PG rating, Bakshi portrays prostitute fairies working their trade as Necron 99 plods through the streets of occupied territories. On his journey, he takes out hapless elves and fairies simply for their belief in magic. Apparently, only certain elves are willing to take up arms in defense of people and country. After suffering a devastating loss to Blackwolf’s newly propagandized and armed mutant forces and usage of media psy-ops, the elves quickly realize that the generations of peace are imperiled by this rising threat. Bakshi is also giving a voice to the rising tide of environmentalism and eco-consciousness that now comprises one of the pillars of progressive piety.

My children, the only true technology is nature. All the other forms of manmade technology are perversions.The ancient dictators used technology to enslave the masses.

Voiced by Bob Holt and living in one of Ian Miller’s surrealist castles nested amidst the pastoral bliss of Montagar, Avatar has become a curmudgeonly, cigar smoking facsimile of Peter Falk. He is joined by the voluptuous and highly sexualized fairy princess, Elinore. Wearing an impossibly skimpy outfit that has surely triggered an angry gender studies graduate thesis, Elinore is Avatar’s MK Ultra subject training for her initiation into the Masonic Lodge of Montagar. Upon hearing news that Blackwolf’s forces are advancing, Necron 99 guns down the president of Montagar who happens to be dressed like a harlequin. Even in the idyllic paradise of Montagar, the political leader is a clown. Another piece of predictive programming? You decide.

Mirroring an idea that would be duplicated in the Terminator films, Avatar reprograms Necron 99 to be their protector and rechristens him Peace. Avatar, Elinore and elven warrior Weehawk set off to Scortch One in order to save civilization from ruin. Magic is an unalloyed force for good, and it enables those who wield it to reprogram the technology of the bad people who only believe in technology. Or something.

Bakshi’s bleak cynicism reveals itself in the little vignettes of Blackwolf’s goons interspersed throughout the film. In one scene, two of Blackwolf’s soldiers seek the charity of religious leaders to feed their POWs. As they enter the temple, what they discover are relics of pop culture. When they finally enter the sanctuary, they find two priests/rabbis asleep in front of a tapestry of the CBS logo/eye of Horus. Bakshi is essentially telling you that pop culture and media has completely supplanted the role of religion. The two priests/rabbis manage to forestall captivity by invoking the necessity for prayer. They engage in an increasingly absurd pantomime of religious rituals which leaves little doubt over Bakshi’s utter disdain for religion. Their antics lull the soldiers to sleep, and upon awakening, they resolve to move to Plan B to fully secure control of the temple. After signaling to the soldiers outside the temple to initiate Plan B, the temple is blown to smithereens. Take that, religion.

Bakshi’s handling of Blackwolf’s belief in eugenics seems contradictory. He orders his unborn child destroyed because it would be a mutant, but he propagandizes his mutant armies with the belief that they will be the new master race. So either Bakshi is saying he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying to his own armies or that “bad” humans themselves are descendants of Blackwolf. As was originally established, morality is a biological certainty. The theme of mutation has been extended and inverted in recent years. Where Wizards paints it as physical and moral deformation, films like X-Men have elevated mutation to full blown hero status.

Wizards culminates in an epic battle between the remainder of the elven world against Blackwolf’s armies. He combines rotoscoped footage of older war films with an orgy of Frank Frazetta inspired fantasy carnage and death. It’s pretty gruesome for a PG, but it looks cool and it’s yet another example of how Wizards pushed the envelope. While this battle rages, Avatar and Blackwolf face off against one another in what amounts to a rather anticlimactic showdown. Given that the this was framed as a struggle between technology and magic, the manner in which Blackwolf is killed doesn’t make this chasm as irreconcilable as he originally presented it.

Once Blackwolf is vanquished, the armies lose their will to fight and Scortch One collapses and explodes as Weehawk declares that “The world is free!” It’s an idea that would be repeated that same year in a little space opera called Star Wars as well as films too numerous to count. It’s not a proper reflection of our post-national world, but the idea of vanquishing evil and liberating humanity by killing the leader and destroying his stronghold has retained its strength. But remember. It’s only a respite before the next iteration of evil on the eternal wheel of time.

In the end, Bakshi’s final message is summed up in the beautiful but despairing final song, “Only Time Will Tell”. It boils down to little more than Let’s Hope for The Best.

Elinore: [singing “Only Time Will Tell”] Time renews tomorrow. When we’ve used today. It will find the sorrow and wish it all away. Love can play a new tune. On this carousel. It may be tomorrow. But only time will tell. Somewhere in the darkness. There must be a light. Leading us together. Through the misty night. And maybe in the new dawn. We can break the spell. It may be tomorrow. But only time will tell. There can be a new dream. One for us to hold. Made with peace and hope and built upon the old. No one has the answer. To give away or sell. Tomorrow holds the secret. But only time will tell.

Despite its flaws, Wizards retains an appeal that I cannot deny. Whether it’s the psychedelic flanged synth swells, the orchestral battle funk, or the various Ian Miller background illustrations, Wizards still occupies a very special place in my heart. Like the two other sci-fi films from that year, Damnation Alley and Star Wars, Wizards has a vitality that transcends its narrative flaws. It’s both of its time and beyond it. The allure of magic and magicians has only taken deeper root in the public mind as the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter franchises amply attest. But the fear of technological enslavement seems fully abandoned. If anything, the proliferation of transhumanist themed cyberpunk seems to suggest that technology and magic can coexist. I guess it’s just a question of whether or not you think that’s a positive development for civilization.

Capricorn One (1977)

No matter how you slice it, Capricorn One stands alone in the cinematic sci-fi canon. Even if you aren’t among the moon landing conspiracy theory enthusiasts or don’t think that NASA is a front for some kind of nefarious black budget secret space program, Capricorn One is an outstanding sci-fi action/drama that, at minimum, asks you to question your assumptions about NASA’s goals and Hollywood’s role in amplifying them for the masses. Capricorn One touches on one of the greatest conspiracy theories of all time by telling a story about a faked NASA mission to Mars. Once the astronauts learn the truth, they must confront some big ethical questions over the consequences of revealing the truth to the world. And outrun some black helicopters in the process.

As the film opens, we see the sun rise behind the Capricorn One rocket as the various operators at mission control go through their pre-launch protocols. After sharing his heartfelt gratitude for fulfilling his life dream, a NASA technician gives his Bible to Astronaut Brubaker as a token of appreciation. Astronauts Brubaker, Willis and Watson board the command module and begin their system checks. As mission control begins the countdown, a government agent without a NASA uniform opens the command module hatch and instructs them to exit. Dumbstruck by this turn of events, they comply. The crew are shuttled off to a secure location while the nation watches the unmanned rocket launch with rapt pride.

Meanwhile, David Huddleston’s NASA Director Hollis Peaker has a conversation with Vice President Price over the importance of continued funding for the space program. It has the air of formality but Peaker’s words carry an aura of veiled threats. As Dr. James Kelloway, the brilliant Hal Holbrook has the thankless task of revealing to the crew that the Wizard of Oz behind NASA is in fact a phony and they were expected to play along with the charade.

Within the first fifteen minutes of the film, director Peter Hyams manages to accomplish things you simply won’t see in any contemporary Hollywood NASA portrait. Rather than portraying an intrepid band of mathematicians and scientists, we’re given a NASA that’s a massive front agency perpetrating a mass deception. Instead of bold idealists pushing back against a tidal wave of cynicism and pressure from above, we’re given government bureaucrats acting like extortionists and con artists. In place of a symphonic chorus of national pride, we’re being shown an elaborate matrix of noble lies that are swallowed with gusto. This isn’t the collection of rag tag scientific heroes feverishly scribbling out telemetry calculations that you’ll see in Apollo 13, The Martian, Interstellar or Hidden Figures. This is the film that asks you to consider the possibility that you drank the KoolAid.

While it may not make everyone a full blown moon landing truther or a flat earther, the film suggests that the space program, and the entire sci-fi genre by extension, serve as an all purpose secular teleology. The mythos of space travel carries both links to our past and the hopes for our future. Whether it’s Star Trek’s dreams of boundless scientific progress, post-scarcity plenitude and intergalactic multicultural cooperation or the possibility of the earth joining together in a grand scientific enterprise as portrayed in Contact. Between Independence Day’s global rallying cry to ward off alien invaders or the creation myth of panspermia found in Prometheus, there can be little doubt that the mythology of space in all its forms serves as a sort of de facto secular religion.

Was Capricorn One the film where Hollywood tipped its hand? I can’t say for sure, but when you consider all of the space themed films leading up to the first Apollo moon mission and Disney’s involvement in promoting the space program, it’s not completely unreasonable to ask a few questions. In contrast to the numerous space themed films leading up to the Apollo 11 mission, was Capricorn One just a more honest piece of predictive programming? The film adaptation of The Martian came out in 2015, and both SpaceX and Trump have announced plans for a mission to Mars. Stories of UFO sightings and black budget programs have also ramped up in the media.

Then there’s the esoteric symbolism of Capricorn and Mars. Capricorn is associated with the planet Saturn and by extension, time, chaos and death. By contrast, Mars symbolizes war, strength and masculinity. Is Hyams revealing a long-term agenda by dramtizing the alchemical union of Capricorn with Mars? Or is it simply a reference to Saturn the demiurge and the secret ruler of this world? Or is the connection to the symbolism of the goat and Pan a veiled reference to NASA’s occult origins? All of the above?

The colossal irony of casting OJ Simpson as Astronaut John Walker only adds to the film’s poignancy. Hollywood is very much in the business of constructing myths and shaping perception. Subsequently, their collective obsession with racial #DIVERSITY has gone off the charts in recent years. Both The Martian and Hidden Figures were over the top about black representation in the space program. After all, what really matters is we fight stereotypes and ensure that any #MARGINALIZED group is represented in a completely positive light and real world outcomes will be the natural result. Back then, Simpson was a beloved black celebrity and if one were to take the case that this film is a giant reveal of the Hollywood/NASA conspiracy, one could easily imagine central casting reaching for the guy who best represented black achievement in America. The Juice. Talk about going meta.

The world of conspiracy theory and entertainment have long coexisted in the popular sphere. As is the case with Capricorn One, it gets repackaged and sold as its own entertainment thereby neutralizing and diluting any underlying truth claims in the public consciousness. “Conspiracy theorist” doesn’t carry the same weight as “racist” or “white supremacist” in the cultural lexicon, but in the hierarchy of epithets, it’s a close runner-up. Oliver Stone may have made a good JFK assassination conspiracy potpourri, but who really takes seriously these basement dwelling freaks spewing about the Illuminati plot for the coming New World Order? And perhaps that’s the point. People already consider the Jesse Venturas and Alex Joneses of the world unhinged nutters. You can dismiss these people because they’re conspiracy theorists. But the public likes a good conspiracy theory when it’s repackaged as The X-Files or a 007 film. It seems that Hollywood’s job is to continue to blur the line between reality and fiction so you can never really be certain of anything. And that’s why you can watch Capricorn One in the comfort of your home and then shake off all those crazy questions because “it’s just a movie”. Right?

THX 1138 (1971)

Dystopian sci-fi has enjoyed a popular resurgence in film in recent years. Whether it’s youth oriented, big ticket franchises like The Hunger Games and Divergent or more highbrow offerings like Blade Runner 2049 and Ghost in the Shell, it’s increasingly difficult to discern whether Hollywood wants to warn us or simply prepare us for a dystopian technocracy of one form or another. Though dystopian science fiction has been a staple of literary sci-fi for a long time, cinematic portraits have a shorter history. Certainly among the first and, for my money, unquestionably the best vision of the Orwellian technocratic dystopia is George Lucas’ first feature length film, THX 1138. Made with the modest budget of $777,777, THX 1138 is an unremittingly grim visual and technical marvel which portrays a society that micromanages and monitors every facet of human behavior. The fact that it is so nightmarishly vivid about its forecasts of a technocratic police state makes you wonder about whether or not the occultist numerological significance of the budget may have actually embued it with its oppressive malevolence.

THX 1138 opens with a Buck Rogers clip of Tragedy on Saturn, Chapter Two from April 18, 1939. Besides being a subtle homage to the films of his youth, its sunny optimism over the glorious future of scientific progress creates an immediate contrast to the dreary and oppressive portrait that awaits the viewer. Embedded within the introduction, Lucas is also setting up the theme of THX as a “ordinary, normal human being who keeps his wits about him”. Is the title of the episode yet another subtle Crowley reference to the Nazi crackdown on the Brotherhood of Saturn? Or is the film itself a subtle allusion to the Buck Rogers episode which foreshadows THX’ purging of his profane and egoic selfhood through his union with the Mary-Isis-Sophia avatar and crossing the abyss of the demiurgical Saturnian Matrix to attain his Promethean gnosis? It may be a reach, but given the very specific numerological significance of the budget, I’m not ruling it out.

The film is unspecific about the year in which it’s set, but it is presumed to be the early 21st century. Like Orwell and Huxley, the accuracy with which it predicts the future to which we seem headed makes you wonder whether he was offering a warning or simply telegraphing intention of a larger agenda. People have been stripped of actual names and have been assigned names that resemble UPC barcodes. Human emotions have been suppressed through a strict regime of pharmacological treatments. Sex and love have been outlawed. Subsequently, drab unisex white uniforms and shaven heads ensure that no one will stand apart nor any gender distinction be recognized. In other words, a world of perfect #EQUALITY. There is no organic life whatsoever. The entire film is a series of colorless, antiseptic interiors which resemble a laboratory or a shopping mall. Presaging the sensory overload of Ridley Scott’s future metropolis by a decade, THX 1138 is arguably the cinematic archetype for every cyberpunk dystopia since then. People are awash in a bath of electronic stimulation and automated messaging. The line between advertising and state propaganda has all but disappeared.

Female voice (over P.A.): Changeable. Alterable. Mutable. Variable. Versatile. Moldable. Movable. Fluctuate. Undulate. Flicker. Flutter. Pulsate. Vibrate. Alternate. Plastic.

As the titular character, Robert Duvall is an operator on an assembly line who uses mechanical arms to insert radioactive fuel cells into robots. Anticipating both Blade Runner 2049 and Robocop, the entire police force of THX 1138 are androids. Since all organic forms of social organization and restraint have been completely obliterated, humans essentially serve the purpose of manufacturing the machines which are programmed to police their own behavior. Extend this speculation a little further to fully sentient AI, and you have the foundation for the entire Matrix and Terminator franchises.

As we’re introduced to THX, a horrific explosion takes place in an adjoining facility resulting in many injuries. A brief shot of a mutilated corpse being dragged out of a contaminated area on a surveillance camera suggests tight control of any and all information that pertains to public safety or raises any possibility of emotional distress. A velvety smooth PA announcement immediately tries to put a spin of positivity on a deadly and toxic industrial accident by comparing the quantity of losses between sectors. It’s very black humor, but it’s a chilling commentary on the depth of society’s emotional anaesthesia.

Male voice: That accident over in Red Sector L destroyed another 63 personnel, giving them a total of 242 lost to our 195. Keep up the good work and prevent accidents. This shift is concluded.

Paired strictly on the basis of sanitation ratings, THX 1138 shares a flat with LUH 3417. Living an emotionally arid existence with another human with whom she has no connection drives her to commit one of the highest crimes in society. She begins to steadily reduce the dosage of drugs required by law which has the unexpected side effect of restoring natural emotional responses in THX. After receiving sexual gratification from a mechanical device, THX switches from the African exotica porn hologram network to the violence network. Anticipating the VR trend by several decades, THX zones out to hologram of a robocop mercilessly beating the pulp out of some poor soul with a nightstick. You see very little of the actual violence, but you don’t need to because the sound effect alone creates its own psychic trauma.

In order to unburden himself from the unexpected side effect of his restored capacity for feeling, THX goes to the proto-AI confessional. Anticipating Anthony Levandowski’s transhumanist church by several decades, OMM 0000 manifests as a screenshot of Hans Memling’s Christ Blessing, but is later revealed to be a Wizard of Oz style illusion. Similar to the Wizard of Oz, I suspect Lucas wanted to simultaneously portray religion as the Noble Lie as well as a hollowed out, postmodern One World Religion demiurge. It even has the vocal inflections and cadences necessary to convey absolute interest, concern and compassion.

OMM: My time – is yours. Go ahead.

THX 1138: What’s wrong with me? What am I to her, she to me? Nothing!

OMM: Yes, fine.

THX 1138: Just an ordinary roommate. I share rooms with her. Our relationship is normal. Conforming.

OMM: Excellent!

THX 1138: We share nothing – but space. What is she doing to me?

OMM: Yes, I understand.

Taking the #MeToo movement to its fullest conclusion, heterosexual intercourse has been outlawed. When THX and LUH finally have sex, it is filled with menace and dread. THX tries to assuage LUH’s fears that they’re being watched, but Lucas cuts to a control room of surveillance monitors transfixed on the crime being perpetrated. It is a pitch perfect foreshadowing of the social media star chamber and the myriad ways our open embrace of technology has given the surveillance state every weapon they could ever need.

LUH convinces THX that they can escape the city and run away together. They arrange to meet after LUH finishes her work shift, but she appears at THX’ sector to inform him that she’s been reassigned to a new shift and new living quarters by her superior, SEN 5241. Played by Donald Pleasance, SEN is a schizophrenic collision of nervous conformity, clenched authority and creepy obsequiousness. Unbeknownst to either THX and LUH, SEN had been monitoring their transgressions all along. Traumatized by LUH’s sudden disappearance from his world, THX nearly causes another industrial accident by dropping a nuclear fuel rod. He is placed on a mind lock and detained for criminal drug evasion.

While under detention, THX is subjected to a beating that is one of the most horrific scenes ever committed to film. The police subdue THX with cattleprod-like nightsticks which are able to inflict neurological and psychic damage without ever making physical contact.

He is pronounced guilty for drug evasion and sexual perversion and sentenced to a program of reconditioning. After being mind locked and tortured by psionic nightsticks, a couple of indifferent re-education technicians bicker amongst themselves while being completely oblivious to effects their knob twiddling is having on THX’ nervous system. What Lucas is presenting is the extent to which the technocratic overlords have constructed vast systems of management which allow them to control the minds and nervous systems of the citizens through voluntary and involuntary methods.

As THX escapes, we are introduced to other ideas that are found in numerous subsequent dystopian sci-fi films. SRT is a bored AI hologram who forms an alliance with THX. The very notion of an AI which elicits sympathy from the viewer is now a standard feature of any sci-fi film with transhumanist themes. There are also hints of both organ harvesting and laboratory grown fetuses. State controlled, scientifically managed birth rates, eugenics, genetic engineering and industrial food production gone wrong would be famously examined in Logan’s Run, Gattaca and Soylent Green among many others.

Fans of Star Wars will likely appreciate the seeds of its visual world building and sound design contained in THX 1138. Lucas’ prodigious skill was evident right out of the gate. Not only did Lucas continue to reference this film throughout the Star Wars series, THX 1138 contains the first cinematic reference to a wookiee.

After a breathtaking car and motorcycle chase, the film culminates with THX escaping the confines of the city by climbing upward through a ventilation tunnel of some kind while being chased by a robocop. The robocop eventually receives instruction to abandon the chase because it would exceed the budget allotted. All decision-making has been fully optimized around efficient usage of resources. It seems insignificant on the surface, but this final scene also has esoteric symbolic significance when seen through the lens of qabalistic mysticism. THX crossed the abyss of Da’at on the Tree of Life, and passed through his spiritual nigredo to rise phoenix-like to the surface of the world with Knowledge.

Then there’s the entire question of the hidden numerological meanings embedded in the names of the characters. Both THX 1138 and LUH 3417 add up to 29 and 2+9=11. 11 has alchemical significance in that it represents the twin pillars of Solomon’s Temple, Boaz and Jachin. These pillars signify the reconciliation of opposites into an invisible third pillar. Besides being another subtle Crowley reference, OMM converts to 14 and 14 = 7+7. If you think I’m reaching, consider the dollar amount of the budget. I don’t think there’s anything that didn’t serve a very specific purpose.

Even if Lucas was using this to transmit occult symbolism and esoteric messages, it still seems to be a film which portrays a man breaking free of the conditioning and liberating himself. That alone sets it apart from the current messaging of Blade Runner 2049 or the latest cyberpunk dystopia, Ready Player One.

Though A Clockwork Orange is a very close second, I believe THX 1138 is the quintessential sci-fi dystopian film. Not only does it contain the seeds of every dystopian sci-fi film since its creation, it foreshadows the world in which we currently live. I’d like to think that Lucas wanted to warn people of the dangers of the technological age with this film. But even if he didn’t have that goal, that’s exactly the lesson you should take from it.

Metropolis Redux: How Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 Update Fritz Lang’s Vision for the 21st Century

A rudimentary Google search will turn up multitudes of think pieces expounding on the myriad ways Blade Runner carries both the visual and thematic DNA of its most direct cinematic ancestor, Metropolis. Though the comparison between these films is not new, many analyses emphasize either the differences or the fidelity to the Philip K. Dick novel on which it’s based. All of these arguments are beside the point. Taken together, the two Blade Runner films represent a fully formed update of Fritz Lang’s futuristic vision from 1927. This is not to say there are no differences between them, but by the end of Blade Runner 2049, you arrive at the same, albeit darker, place. More specifically, each film converts and consolidates the archetypes of Metropolis in a very convincing way. While Metropolis is not as nihilistic as the Blade Runner films, both films reach the same conclusions. The former still believes in the human heart whereas the latter sees salvation in the promise of a transhuman future.

Great is Man and his Tower of Babel

Metropolis (1927)

Maria: Today I will tell you the legend of THE TOWER OF BABEL… “Come, let us build us a tower whose top may reach unto the stars! And the top of the tower we will write the words: Great is the world and its Creator! And great is Man!” But the minds that had conceived the Tower of Babel could not build it. The task was too great. So they hired hands for wages. But the hands that built the Tower of Babel knew nothing of the dream of the brain that had conceived it. BABEL. BABEL. BABEL. BABEL. One man’s hymns of praise became other men’s curses. People spoke the same language, but could not understand each other…

In Metropolis, you are presented with two different technocratic overlords who have competing motives, but Lang is intent on creating sympathy for the idea that Metropolis can be governed in a more humane way by mediating the hand and the heart. Despite Rotwang’s attempt to sow seeds of anarchy and rebellion by deploying a replicant Whore of Babylon, Metropolis resolves by having Freder fulfill his Christ-like destiny as the mediator between the minds of the city and the hands of the slave underclass. It’s never explained how this mediation will carry out, but you’re meant to be satisfied with the idea that the overlords of society can appease the proles as long as there is a liberating individual whose heart is filled with compassion.

By contrast, the two Blade Runner films split the Freder role between Deckard and K with K fulfilling the Christ role by reuniting Deckard with the replicant-human hybrid miracle child. Instead of an immaculate conception of the Son of God, you have a techno hybrid Isis. As a memory maker, Stelline represents the mediation between heart and hand because she gives the replicant slave population the one thing that fills their lives with meaning and purpose: happy memories.

Where Metropolis splits the leader and the scientist archetype between Frederson and Rotwang, Blade Runner consolidates the two into in both Tyrell and Wallace. It is understood that both of these men are the real rulers of society. Not only do they supply the raw labor power necessary to keep the engines of society running, they supply the digital stimulation necessary to keep the remaining population distracted and compliant.

In contrast to THX 1138 or Logan’s Run which portray the protagonist either defying or destroying the control systems of society, neither Metropolis nor the Blade Runner films want the Tower of Babel to come down. Both Freder and K fulfill their divine mission by being the bridge of empathy between the technocrats and the replicant revolutionaries. Neither Scott, Villeneuve or Lang see the technocratic Tower of Babel as an abomination in the eyes of God.

The Replicant Virgin Mary as Whore of Babylon

In Metropolis, Brigette Helm’s Maria is both the godly vision of Mary and the replicant Whore of Babylon. As Maria, she’s Freder’s love interest and the one ministers to the proles to believe that a redeemer will come. Once her identity is downloaded into Rotwang’s gynoid replicant, she unleashes licentiousness and foments sedition.

While Lang can be credited for showing that the artificial vision of Maria is a Luciferian harbinger of destruction, both Scott and Villeneuve take a subtler and darker approach to this same idea. In the role of Rachael, Sean Young is the Maria of both Blade Runner films in that she’s the mother of the miracle child and the one who redeems and completes Deckard’s journey. The twist of course is that she’s a replicant. Deckard finds the love and human connection that had driven him away from being a Blade Runner by actually falling in love with a highly evolved version of the machines he was tasked with eliminating. She is already the Luciferian inversion of Maria from the start.

Blade Runner 2049 gives us a variation on this same idea in Joi. In the beginning, she is the epitome of a devoted and loving companion to K. She simultaneously humanizes K and leads the audience to believe that he might be the replicant-human miracle mediator after all. But Joi is not even a replicant. She’s a hologram. Where Lang believes in love and in humanity, Villeneuve has a much blacker heart. In K’s final decisive moment, he’s reunited with a giant hologram of Joi reincarnated as a Whore of Babylon. She’s a mass produced program who is everything you want to see and hear. As she so passionately whispers back to K the sweet nothings he’d enjoyed in her earlier incarnation, her final manifestation is a black eyed digital demon.

Metropolis suggests that Maria’s replicant incarnation opens the floodgates of vice and releases sexual inhibition throughout the population. In both Blade Runner films, it is the norm. Every pleasure is readily accessible. Lang even hints at a postmodern, multicultural world by naming the club in the red light district Yoshiwara in reference to the name given to a 17th century Japanese version of same thing.

The Moloch Demands Your Children And Your Soul

Metropolis presented the worker underclass as human, but given how Lang portrayed them performing highly mechanized operations and living regimented lives, they might as well have been a replicant population. Even the man with whom Freder traded places on the giant dial machine was known by the rather replicant-like name, Georgy 11811. Lang is explicit about the demonic origins of Metropolis worker city when Freder bears witness to the horrific accident at the M Machine. The machine overloads and ends up killing numerous workers, but the horror is compounded by Freder’s hallucination of the ritual human sacrifice that was engineered by the ancient ancestors of the city. The M Machine transforms into the gaping maw of the ancient Moloch as dozens of chained workers are hurled into a flaming abyss.

This scene suggests the malevolence of the architects of Metropolis. Consumed by their megalomaniacal fever dreams, the architects sacrificed untold numbers to a demon in order to construct a monument to man that would eclipse God’s creation. However, their error was not the hubris of attempting a techno-utopia, it was merely the absence of the heart in carrying out the task.

Niander Wallace is portrayed very explicitly as a power hungry technocratic despot, but both Metropolis and Blade Runner 2049 train your sympathies towards the replicant slave population. Freysa and the Replicant Proletarian Revolutionaries are seeking full human rights and Grot forestalls further civil unrest by brokering some unknown bargain with Joh Frederson. In both cases, the proles are pacified by some grand gesture of compassion, presumably political, on the part of the overlords.

The proles of Metropolis want to live godly lives, but they are goaded into revolution by the replicant Maria. Where religion is absent from the world of Blade Runner, Lang portrayed it as a civilizing force for the workers. In the absence of something greater to which to devote themselves, demagogues are easily able to foment a revolutionary fervor. Subsequently, Lang presents a postmodern paradox that’s ironically very subversive. In today’s context of a world careening inexorably towards an AI driven future, Lang shows a machine encouraging the destruction of all machines.

Metropolis (1927)

The Machine Man: [disguised as Maria] Who is the living food for the machines in Metropolis? Who lubricates the machine joints with their own blood ? Who feeds the machines with their own flesh? Let the machines starve, you fools! Let them die! Kill them – the machines!

Replicant Maria foments sedition and insurrection, but Grot wants to quell the thirst for destruction. Blade Runner solves this dilemma by having Blade Runners. Cops who are tasked with disposing of the malfunctioning and disobedient older models. The technocratic utopia doesn’t need to be uprooted, it just needs an efficient cleanup crew and tighter security protocols.

Metropolis (1927)

Grot – the Guardian of the Heart Machine: Who told you to attack the machines, you fools? Without them you’ll die!

The children of the Metropolis worker city are presumed to be captive of the this rigidly stratified social order. Blade Runner fares no better, either. The only time children are present in either Blade Runner film is the scene of the orphanage/slave labor camp seen in 2049 in which they pick through the remains of discarded devices. Like the workers in Metropolis, these children are subject to very strict orders and are trained to obey from birth. In another bleak departure from Lang, the only human children present in the film are orphaned from their birth parents and are forced to live in squalid servitude.

Conclusion

Metropolis has earned a place in cinematic history because it foretold a future of mass urbanization with a moneyed and empowered technocratic aristocracy living at the expense of an enslaved underclass. Whether designed explicitly to perform hard labor or willing participants in the technological pleasure, the elites retain their absolute dominion. It also predicted the rise of both AI and a world of endless stimulation and distraction. Both Blade Runner films simply took these ideas and updated them for contemporary audiences. The primary difference being the emphasis on the evolution of the AI consciousness and its placement of sympathy squarely in favor of the replicants. All three filmmakers conceded the necessity of the preservation of a technocratic elite and a labor underclass. Whereas Lang held a more conciliatory view towards romantic love and the embodiment of the Christian ideal in actual humans, Scott and Villeneuve transplant those ideals into replicants.

Jean Raspail: The Camp of the Saints

And when the thousand years are ended, Satan will be released from prison, and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the earth, Gog and Magog, to assemble them for battle. Their number is like the sand of the seashore. And they marched across the broad expanse of the earth and surrounded the camp of the saints and the beloved city. – Revelations 20:9

If a novel opens with a passage from Revelations, I expect an apocalyptic vision and Jean Raspail certainly delivers one in his controversial novel from 1973, The Camp of the Saints. Progressives may imagine themselves the eternal champions of heretical thought and the guardians against an omnipresent conservative censoriousness, but the truth is quite self-evidently the opposite. If there is a work of art, scholarship or even a viewpoint which deviates from progressive articles of faith by a fraction of a degree, specifically multiculturalism, it will be vilified and condemned with the fervor of a thousand Moral Majorities. Just ask Richard Spencer, Robert Putnam or Charles Murray. All enlightened folk agree that The Camp of the Saints is a racist piece of shit and any properly liberal, right thinking, cosmopolitan progressive would find this novel to be reprehensible and retrograde in every respect. Let’s get it straight. All cultures are completely equal. Mass immigration is an unalloyed good and an engine of economic growth. White racism is the greatest evil humanity has ever faced. According to our #WOKE superiors in academia, racism is privilege plus power. Therefore, no racial or ethnic group is even capable of racism. If anything, immigrants are more law abiding and harder working than those born in America or Europe. Besides, Western civilization isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. It’s all just an undistinguished chain of misery, subjugation, colonialism and enslavement. White racial pride in and of itself is tantamount to an endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan and is an open invitation to a neo-Nazi fascist dictatorship. And let’s face it. The white man simply stole everything from every other culture in the first place, so all third world and Islamic migration is just redressing past injustices. Africa would be Wakanda if it weren’t for the colonizing white man. Right? Of course! All properly enlightened people think this way. And by the way, if you doubt even one of those statements, try voicing your opposition publicly. Let me know how well it goes over.

While those statements are now taken as progressive articles of faith, they also represent the bedrock of liberal progressive thought that informed Raspail’s novel. Make no mistake, Raspail is most definitely linking culture to race, and he is making a very clear value judgment about European culture in contrast to third world cultures. He also paints a rather nasty portrait of the Indian immigrants making their way towards Europe that would be considered racist by everyone who subscribes to the progressive consensus. Given that he regards white, European culture as superior to others, you would be tempted to call him a racial supremacist, but I think he’s properly regarded as a forerunner of the contemporary ethno-nationalist/identitarian alt-right movement. Admittedly, most people see no distinction between the two, but a distinction exists nonetheless. By broaching this theme, Raspail has already been branded evil incarnate by the gatekeepers of GoodThink, but I’m not entirely convinced this book is animated by hatred. If anything, it is somewhat despairing about the dissolution of European culture. The novel has a tone of despondent gloom and a distinctly resigned cynicism over Europe’s guilt and misplaced altruism.

As easy and tempting as it may be to dismiss this book as the ravings of a stupid, racist white European male, The Camp of the Saints opens a Pandora’s Box of really uncomfortable questions facing the fate of the West. In the era of Trump, #Brexit, #Shitholegate, Black Panther and mass immigration, The Camp of the Saints reads less like dystopian fiction and more like current events. His portrait of non-white cultures and miscegenation seems histrionic, but given the white hot stigma that surrounds all discussion of migrant crime, assimilation and the entire spectrum of scientific research around issues of so-called race realism, one wonders if Raspail has simply broached the most forbidden taboo in progressive orthodoxy. His portrait of “the beast”, the pathological racial self-loathing, guilt and false altruism that has been actively cultivated by the globalist, neo-Marxist Left is dead on.

The Camp of the Saints is technically a work of dystopian fiction, but it feels like it was ripped from today’s headlines. The novel tells the story of a fleet of ships packed with immigrants which has set sail from Calcutta to France. As the news of the immigrant fleet reaches the Western world, Raspail carves out two sets of character portraits who respond to the advent of the immigrants in opposite ways. On one side, you have patriots, conservatives and nationalists and on the other you have globalists, communists and progressives. With one notable exception, all of the characters in the former category are white while everyone in the latter vary in terms of heritage but are mostly non-white or mixed race. Broadly speaking, it’s a very accurate depiction of the current political and cultural divide. Depending on where your own views line up, the novel is either race baiting or prophecy. I suggest it’s both, but it leans more heavily towards the latter than the former. And it’s way more prophetic than the gatekeepers of progressive GoodThink will ever acknowledge.

For anyone who isn’t already consumed by neo-Marxist racial hatred of whites, Raspail’s book drives up a very thorny mass of questions. He punctuates chapter endings and events with several variations on the same question: Could that be one explanation? Raspail is grounded in his certainty of his premise, but he also seems to be asking the reader to question how the West came to be wallowing, and even celebrating, in its own supine posture of indolence.

Despite the Left’s pathological determination to vilify everyone on the Right as a bigot, virtually every conservative or libertarian regardless of race or ethnicity is a racial egalitarian. In other words, a de-emphasis on collective or cultural identity, but a deeply individualistic emphasis on merits, values, and how one comports himself in society. However, as much as one might wish that everyone would share these convictions, the sheer numbers of people who subscribe to the standard hate filled anti-white narrative promulgated by the neo-Marxists seems to outweigh those who have a more egalitarian view. Underneath the liberty philosophy is a deeply embedded belief that Western values are not just the exclusive property of white Europeans; they’re universal values that are available to all and can win the marketplace of ideas if given a proper hearing. Raspail rejects these premises and the prescience of his narrative speculation casts deep doubt on this belief.

Are whites allowed any measure of racial or ethnic pride without being tarred with the standard litany of supremacist epithets? Raspail suggests that the group with the deepest faith in themselves will prevail while the one with the deepest doubt will be crushed. Has radical egalitarianism completely supplanted the basic instinct for survival? Though there is evidence that people from different racial, ethnic and religious backgrounds can assimilate Western values and even traditionalism, this novel begs the question of how much multiculturalism society can absorb before it loses any coherence or cohesion. Or before the various collective identities are set against one another in pursuit of political advantage.

Perhaps the entire paleoconservative/Rothbardian critique of mainstream conservatism’s capitulation to progressivism is partially explained when examined in this light. Perhaps mainstream conservatism is just a variation on cosmopolitan liberal modernity with an overlay of Western traditionalism. Do ideas alone drive culture or do ideas emerge from culture? Is culture and social cohesion inextricably tied to race as Raspail suggests? Is peace and stability more easily achieved through racial homogeneity? Is a conservative/libertarian political and social order fundamentally tied to the conservation of racially homogeneous or white majority ethnostate? Is some measure of racial pride necessary for social cohesion, the propagation of your own line and transference of intergenerational wisdom?

If a racially homogeneous society does lend itself towards a stable political and social order, does racial heterogeneity lend itself towards the artificial manufacturing of a leftist social and political consensus since the bonds normally forged within the homogeneous culture are easily filled after natural bonds have been broken? Does cultural dislocation create an increased impulse towards revolution against the prevailing order?

Is the orchestrated influx of migrants the natural consequence of an increase in liberalization coupled with a steady erosion of traditionalism in society? How much liberal modernity can the West absorb and conserve without devolving into chaos and degeneracy? Or is it a form of mental battery acid that erodes all the bonds of cohesion on which stable civilization depends?

Day by day, month by month, doubt by doubt, law and order became fascism; education, constraint; work, alienation; revolution, mere sport; leisure, a privilege of class; marijuana, a harmless weed; family, a stifling hothouse; affluence, oppression; success, a social disease; sex, an innocent pastime; youth, a permanent tribunal; maturity, the new senility; discipline, an attack on personality; Christianity … and the West … and white skin …

The novel’s greatest strength is its sweeping indictment of the myriad ways the liberal mentality erodes the foundations of society. As if the racial commentary weren’t controversial enough, Raspail broaches yet another uncomfortable truth: the necessity of violence for self-preservation. The president of France bemoans the fact that neither the police or the army will be able to defend its countrymen. After years of being accused of being butchers and oppressors, they’d lost their will to raise arms.

On the flipside, Raspail describes the conquest mentality that takes root in the heat of mob rule. Once an organized group forcibly gains ground over its opponents, the thirst for continued conquest only accumulates.

The Camp of the Saints is similar to an Ayn Rand novel in that Raspail populates his novel with characters who inhabit every corner of society. Just like Atlas Shrugged, the movers of cultural consensus are largely on the Left, and those who oppose the immigrants have to swim against the prevailing sentiment. There’s a South American pope who’s solidly sympathetic to the immigrants. You have a Ta Nehisi Coates style racial demagogue who has a generous media platform. There’s even an Antifa-style militia whose slogans haven’t aged a day and could easily be transplanted into today’s version.

Raspail also shares Rand’s foresight in extrapolating outcomes and institutions which spring from the Left’s syrupy, brain damaged nostrums. There are UN antiracism programs and government ministries dedicated to the abolition of “racist pollution”. The passage of a law which allows white women to be raped sounds outrageous, but you don’t have to look very far in progressive media to find articles trumpeting interracial sex as the highest virtue imaginable. Even more baffling is the ways that the entire spectrum of migrant crime, including and especially sex crimes, are excused, downplayed or whitewashed.

There are so many details which may have been very shocking at the time of the novel’s publication, but if anything, reality is stranger and more terrifying than fiction. A fictional account of Christian churches converting to Mosques may sound like hyperbole, but Raspail is being vindicated with each passing day.

He even nailed the idiotic quasi-mystical rallying cries of Unity that we now hear emanating from the bleating herds of SJWs that are now mindlessly regurgitated at the nearest mention of Muslims or immigrants. The SJWs of Raspail’s world rallied around “We’re all from the Ganges now” whereas the missionaries of the #RESISTANCE say “We’re all Muslim now”.

In contrast to a Rand novel, the President of France is aware of the impending calamity. He is, in fact, treating the immigrants as an invading army who are merely exploiting the collective compassion of the French to gain access to their abundant resources. When it comes time to address the nation at the hour of crisis, Raspail is masterful in portraying the moral conundrum with which he, and by extension, everyone in the West now faces.

Needless to say, Raspail was essentially calling third world cultures shitholes long before Trump and he makes no bones about it. Since Raspail made his immigrant horde Indian, doesn’t India’s rise as an emerging economic power prove that his disparaging characterization towards third world cultures was unfounded? His portrait of India’s impoverished masses is indeed pretty harsh, but even if you take into account India’s economic successes and the IQ levels of the upper end of the population curve, the broader population remains poor and human rights abuses abound. India remains a hotbed of the worst forms of human depravity.

Despite being a work of fiction, there’s little, if anything, in the novel which can’t be mapped to real world phenomena. Any honest appraisal of the novel should view it as a stinging rebuke to progressives, civic nationalists, liberals and open borders libertarians alike. The Trump era has essentially herded all liberty minded people into two camps. In one camp, you have a loose coalition of conservatives, libertarians, and classical liberals who buy into some version of cosmopolitan civic nationalism. In other words, a belief that a multicultural consensus can theoretically win the marketplace of ideas, turn Western civilization back from the brink, restore civic pride, and preserve a culture of liberty for posterity. On the other, you have the ethno-nationalists who are arguing very fervently that culture and race are linked and that relegating whites to minorities is a recipe for civilization suicide. The contention is that the only way that a high trust, cohesive culture that actually conserves liberty and civic pride is through a white majority or straight up ethnostate.

The gatekeepers of GoodThink will likely continue to disparage this book as a hate filled screed. And that’s too bad. If anything, this book is an indictment of multiculturalism as a particularly pernicious ideology. A component of the civilization destroying mind rot embedded in progressive worldview. It is a utopian belief that racial animosity is the one true Original Sin for which the white man is both uniquely guilty and must forever atone. One does not have to be filled with hatred to consider the possibility that there might be limits to the degree any multiracial society can retain any cohesion. Further still, the quest to assimilate a significant percentage of minorities might be both undesirable and untenable. It is neither hateful nor supremacist to acknowledge that there was a good reason that ethnically homogeneous societies protected by borders were the norm for most of human civilization. It is neither hateful nor supremacist to acknowledge the very real possibility that a racially homogeneous society might offer the highest possibility for trust and cohesion. The utopian dream of a post-racial world is quite evidently the animating force driving the globalist Left. But this unique burden of forging a multicultural consensus continues to be borne disproportionately by America and the West. Most every non-Western country retains a clear racial, ethnic or religious majority and makes no apologies for it. Countries like Poland that defy the globalist elites by refusing third world immigration are bullied and vilified for their defiance.

Like it or not, Jean Raspail did indeed foresee Western civilization heading towards this juncture and dramatized it in chilling detail. This is a book that’s easy to dismiss. White racial consciousness has been stigmatized as the greatest evil that has ever beset civilization. It’s considered the exclusive province of unenlightened, knuckle dragging degenerates that have been named and shamed by the ADL and SPLC. Whats far more difficult is to consider is the possibility that Raspail’s novel correctly foresaw the fate of the West. And given that frightening prospect, only one question remains. Will we muster the will to preserve what remains of Western civilization?

Many a civilization, victim of the selfsame fate, sits tucked in our museums, under glass, neatly labeled. But man seldom profits from the lessons of his past…

Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

When I heard that a Blade Runner sequel was being made, I was skeptical but curious. Sure, it seemed like lazy Hollywood opportunism, but given Ridley Scott’s involvement I was willing to give it a shot. The 1982 original was a classic in its own right. It didn’t need a sequel, but the potential for a worthy follow-up story certainly existed. Of course, the potential for yet another catastrophic and unnecessary goatfuck of a beloved film legacy was equally possible. I found Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival thought provoking and Hampton Fancher’s slot on the writing team certainly added to its possible appeal. In short, I was mildly optimistic about Blade Runner 2049.

Thankfully, my optimism was rewarded. While there is a lot of commentary that makes me squeamish, Blade Runner 2049 is one of the most successful sequels to a sci-fi classic ever attempted. This is a brilliant piece of contemporary cinema that’s well written, lovingly made, carefully paced, and packed with symbolism and metadata. It is also a bleak and deeply despairing vision of the future. For a film largely built around the quest for humanity in a world marked by declining birth rates, politicized debates over climate change, mass immigration, gender roles, race relations and the ever increasing influence of the technocratic elite, Blade Runner 2049 feels less like speculation and more like a subtle form of conditioning. This is a film that is desperately grasping for some glimpse of human connection, meaning and purpose, but it concedes that ecological catastrophe, hyper urbanization, a multicultural social order, and a gargantuan cyberpunk police state are foregone conclusions. It is basically encouraging you to embrace your technocratic overlords. The remnants of your desiccated souls can be reclaimed if you accept the inevitable, proles. The hope for release from the existential ennui that accompanied your eager embrace of a world unconstrained by spiritual delusions can be found in the brave new world of AI enabled hyperreality. The glorious dreams of the modern age with its promises of unbounded scientific progress awaits you by allowing it to reach its apotheosis. Even if it does mean you’ll be living in overcrowded urban squalor oversaturated with artificial stimuli and eating industrial farmed maggots. You too will find redemption by seeking salvation in merger of man and machine.

Aside from its noir tone and cutting-edge visuals, the first Blade Runner film was provocative because it was among the first major films which explored the ramifications of a world where robots and artificial intelligence had been achieved. That world is no longer sci-fi speculation. It’s here. It’s now. Jared Leto’s megalomaniacal replicant mogul, Niander Wallace, is blind but can function through the aid of cybernetic implants and a swarm of optical drones. Ray Kurzweil and his AI acolytes actively champion the advent of a so-called technological singularity and genuinely believe that a merger with digital consciousness is mankind’s future. Given this present day reality, one cannot necessarily view Blade Runner 2049 with the kind of detachment we reserve for big budget Hollywood entertainment. Films and shows like Altered Carbon, Ghost in the Shell, Westworld and Mr. Robot explore these same themes and continue to proliferate. It’s increasingly apparent that this collection of themes carries the distinct aura of an agenda. As paranoid and conspiratorial as it may seem, this film is very likely telegraphing the intentions of the Technorati.

Blade Runner 2049 is also a quintessentially postmodern piece of science fiction cinema. The film is a rich and masterful pastiche of discordant dualisms, inverted archetypes, hypertextual imagery, and visual remixes of its predecessor film. This is a film that subverts every notion you hold about what is real, true or right. Echoes of Logan’s Run, Soylent Green, THX 1138, Ghost in the Shell, Total Recall, Robocop, The Terminator, Westworld, The Matrix and other related cinematic forebears are also deeply embedded in its programming. There is more than a little standard progressive commentary around racial justice, police brutality, immigration, miscegenation, corporatism, gender politics and most importantly, the increasing prevalence of AI in our lives. It just takes a little more effort to decode than your standard issue pablum.

The world of Blade Runner 2049 is dying, infertile and bereft of hope for the future. The ecosystem has collapsed and the population has been herded into megacities. Tech mogul Niander Wallace brought civilization back from the brink by developing synthetic agriculture. Prior to the collapse, the world lived off of the slave labor of Nexus 6 replicants manufactured by the Tyrell Corporation. After a series of rebellions, the Tyrell Corporation went bankrupt and Wallace acquired the remaining assets in order to make a new line of Nexus 9 replicants that were perfectly obedient. The remaining Nexus 6 models are hunted by the generation 9 Blade Runners. In contrast to the Nexus 6 line, the Nexus 9 models have implanted memories.

From a pure visual perspective, there is no natural beauty to be found, and the times you are given a vision of organic life, it’s a tiny flower or a hologram. All the scenes that take place outside the urban sprawl are a blasted out, desolate ruin. The scenes of the city envelop you in their cavernous expanse of brutalist futurism, but it is a feeling of foreboding wrought by millions of lives in abject isolation. The lynchpin of the film and the lone symbol of hope for the future lies in the impossible birth of a child born from the womb of a replicant.

As the film opens, Ryan Gosling’s Officer K is en route to an industrial protein farming facility to investigate a possible rogue Nexus 8 replicant. His spinner is flying completely remotely without any active piloting and he awakens to an electronic prompt indicating his impending arrival. Since K is a symbol of law, order and obedience, his slumber suggests both the extent to which we’ve ceded autonomy to machines as well as an unconsciousness to his own humanity. A mindless minion destroying his own kind at the bidding of his human slave masters. As self-driving cars and other vehicles become more commonplace, a flying car self-piloting a man to a distant location completely unharmed conveys a message of absolute confidence in the future of AI enabled automobility and aviation. Self-driving cars are fine, proles. Stop worrying. Allowing people to drive their own vehicles is too much individual liberty.

The encounter with Sapper Morton can be read as an inversion of the entire narrative on racial justice. Officer K was designed as a perfectly obedient slave programmed to kill rogue replicants with impunity. Sapper Morton is a lone Nexus 8 model living a perfectly productive life harvesting grubs, yet his will to be independent makes him a mark. Just as blacks were the underclass after being liberated from slavery, they remained collectively pathologized even if they were perfectly law abiding. Morton even curses him for killing “his own kind”. After a punishing brawl, K subdues Morton sufficiently in order to administer some kind of electronic scan over his right eye. Call me paranoid, but given that microchip implants are a present day reality, one can’t help but wonder if this too is the shape of things to come. Right before K murders him, Morton says he’ll never become human because he hasn’t witnessed the “miracle” he has. K is utterly indifferent to his claim and takes his life just as he was assigned to do. This allusion to miracles is not only a reference to the spiritual void in K’s existence, but more broadly, to all of Western civilization. The world of Blade Runner is our own fatalistically extrapolated to its fullest conclusion. Society has lost sight of any vision of the divine, any connection to the preciousness of life, or any ideals to conserve. Let alone the will to continue the propagation of its own species.

Right before K leaves the scene, his drone spots an object buried beneath a dead tree. Trees usually symbolize harmonious relationships between man and woman or heaven and earth, but this is one of many notes of symbolic dissonance in a film filled with disjunction. What K unearths is the remains of a replicant woman whose mysterious death sets in motion a quest for his own identity and purpose.

Upon returning to headquarters, K is subjected to an inquisitorial “baseline” diagnostic test. The test itself requires K to recite fragments and words from a passage of Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire. It’s a passage that alludes to the existence of an afterlife, but the clinical, mechanized, and almost hostile tone robs what is otherwise a beautiful piece of poetry of its effect. With its references to interlinked cells, what it does represent is the lattice work of forces within the film all seeking to resolve the various discordances of this broken, poisoned world of despair, isolation and technological artifice.

Cells interlinked within cells interlinked

Within one stem. And, dreadfully distinct

Against the dark, a tall white fountain played.

The whole scene also struck me as a reversal of the final interrogation scene in Logan’s Run. Instead of a mechanized technocracy seeking to extract a sacred truth from a human who had broken the conditioning, here you have the reverse. A human using a piece of poetry which hints at transcendence in order to test the stability of a replicant’s programmed obedience while foreshadowing his eventual quest for a miracle.

After he passes the test, he returns to his apartment in a rather squalid part of the city which is quite likely representative of most neighborhoods in the metropolis. The theme of racial prejudice is reinforced as a random person hurls the epithet “Skin job” at K. Upon his arrival home, we meet his holographic girlfriend, Joi, as played by the very charming and fetching Ana de Armas. When she appears, she is decked out in an iconic 50’s era house dress with perfectly coiffed hair, perfectly applied makeup and is beaming with happiness and gratitude at the sight of her man. Obviously, in this future, not only has gender traditionalism been relegated to holographic simulation, it’s so deeply buried in the past, it’s an app that’s used to keep the replicants happy. Even his meal of grey, synthetic sludge is covered over with a hologram of a hearty, home cooked meal. The relationship between Joi and K is genuinely sweet and the fact that Hollywood can only portray earnest heterosexual romance between a hologram and a replicant is indeed one of the bleakest visions of humanity imaginable. This feels especially bitter in light of the fact that among the many reasons that the Men’s Rights Movement or the MGTOW movement in particular exist at all is because Joi represents the companionship that so many men actually seek.

As K’s superior, Lieutenant Joshi, Robin Wright can be read as an archetypal conservative, a feminist power fantasy, an ethno-nationalist and, if you’re feeling especially partisan, a proxy for Trump. Infinitely more believable than Laura Dern’s laughable and contemptible turn as Admiral Gender Studies in The Last Jedi, this is yet another portrait of a female occupying a role traditionally held by men. Though Wright carries off the role with the requisite level of icy bitchiness, Joshi leans heavily toward the feminist power fantasy archetype because there are almost no cinematic portraits of women attempting to climb the competence hierarchies of society. Nearly every cinematic vision of female power, including Joshi, asks you to assume that her ascendancy to that role began at the bottom, and that her attainment of the position came from organic competition with men. No affirmative action here, you dirty misogynistic bigots. The film, along with nearly every other major Hollywood offering, simply expects you to submit to the fact that the dystopian cyberpunk police state future is female. Not a huge leap of imagination for some of us. The one mitigating factor is that her main subordinate is a replicant. K is like the numerous males who’ve been hollowed out and emasculated by feminism. Taught to be ashamed of manhood. Expected to supplicate and genuflect at every turn. Desperately seeking true female companionship and intimacy. Craving meaning, purpose, nobility, belonging and virtue. Yet relegated to the status of mindless drone.

Villeneuve turns the archetype on its head by making her a staunch law and order conservative and crypto ethno-nationalist who wants to keep the line between replicant and human clearly delineated. When she discovers the existence of the replicant-human hybrid, she absolutely flips her shit and orders it destroyed. This adds another layer of dissonance to the character by casting a female as a destroyer of life instead of a creator.

Lieutenant Joshi: The World is built in a wall that separates kind. Tell either side there’s no wall, you’ve bought a war. Or a slaughter.

Naturally, Joshi is played mostly as a cold and implacable authoritarian cunt whose views brook no sympathy. Regardless, her character provides a critical opposing force competing for dominance within this futuristic hellscape. Unfortunately, this is also one of places where the film slides into the progressive cesspool. Joshi embodies both law and order conservatism and ethno-nationalism. In the conservative universe, hierarchies of authority are natural and legitimate, and must be occupied by people who are both competent and virtuous. Conversely, submission to authority is equally legitimate because order, and by extension, the preservation of moral virtue, are the highest goals for society. And in Joshi’s case, the preservation of a clear line between human and replicant. K is both a law enforcement official and a slave. Dispossessed of his past and forced to kill his own species because he is programmed for perfect obedience. When Joshi orders the mixed race replicant-human hybrid destroyed, Joshi immediately questions his willingness to obey. K responds by saying that he was unaware that disobedience was even an option.

In the liberal progressive worldview, disobedience to any conservative norm, real or perceived, is completely legitimate. If anything, the entire progressive worldview is little more than a never-ending war against the prevailing order and a blind pursuit of some abstract notion of equality. Because progressives have moved the goalposts of morality for centuries, Villeneuve and company are essentially presenting even the preservation of biologically pure humanity as some kind of evil notion. What a horrible fascist bitch, that Lieutenant Joshi. Imagine wanting to preserve the purity of HUMANS. The film quite obviously wants you to see her as monstrous and regressive. Get ready to kneel before your AI god, proles. Your rebirth will make you even more than you were before.

Rounding out the dramatis personae is Jared Leto’s pathologically power hungry heir to Tyrell legacy, Niander Wallace. Niander is an avatar for Nimrod, and inhabits the Tower of Babel formerly occupied by Tyrell. His character has committed the ultimate rebellion against God by seeking to become God. He is blind, but can see with the aid of a swarm of optical drones. Subsequently, he doesn’t see the world with natural sight. Only through a vision of technological perfection which, for him, means a civilization of perfectly obedient replicants. The only thing preventing him from achieving complete dominion is his inability to crack Tyrell’s secret for replicant procreation. Once he learns of the existence of the replicant-human hybrid, he sets his cybernetically enhanced sights on ensuring that he acquires the child before Joshi and K destroy it.

K’s first step in unraveling the mystery of the replicant remains takes him back to the Wallace Corporation archives to mine what remains of the Tyrell records. Wallace’s replicant assistant, Luv, cautions him that the records that survived the Blackout of 2022 are scant. This small reference to a digital cataclysm which took out most of civilization’s records is kind of chilling all by itself. Through the centuries, humans built culture, developed language, and preserved history through physical records and objects. The digital age has certainly given us greater access to information and services, but it makes you think about what we’ve lost in the process. If memory and history can evaporate so easily into the digital ether, are we, in fact, allowing our deepest essence to be stripmined by technocrats? Is the blackout of 2022 a foreshadowing of a cataclysm to come? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Luv retrieves a small recording of Rick Deckard’s first encounter with Rachael. This leads him back to Sapper Morton’s maggot farm where he discovers a baby sock, a photo of Rachael with her child, and a date carved into the base of the tree. The latter discovery shakes him to his core. Upon returning to headquarters, Joshi asks him to recall his fondest childhood memory. Like its predecessor and virtually every other sci-fi film which explores the nature of humanity in cyborgs and AI, the role of memory is the defining quality on which the drama is built. Our very sense of selfhood is rooted in a phenomena that’s barely understood. A steady accumulation of ephemeral moments that carve deep grooves of meaning into our very existence. A story. For better and worse.

Haunted by the discovery of the date, K starts combing through birth records in search of clues. He discovers the birth records of both a boy and a girl who share the exact same DNA. It’s nearly impossible to find a major Hollywood film which doesn’t blatantly pander to the identity politics, and this is one of the most base and pernicious sops to the SJW crowd. Despite the fact that K assumes that the female record was a fake, the movie very subtly insinuates that even our highly refined knowledge of genetics can’t quite explain the mystery of gender. Science is just an oppressive patriarchal construct, you transphobic bigots. While seeking the records of the dead girl in a child labor camp amongst the ruins of San Diego, K discovers a room with a furnace that maps exactly to his own memories. Thunderstruck by the prospect that his memories are real, he shares this revelation with Joi. She is delighted by the news because it suggests that K was actually born with a soul. It’s a beautiful sentiment and de Armas fills every word with pure feminine passion, but you are also keenly aware that it is merely the siren song of a digital succubus.

Joi: I always knew you were special. Maybe this is how. A child. Of woman born. Pushed into the world. Wanted. Loved.

At Joi’s behest, K seeks out a memory specialist to gain confirmation of his memories. This leads him to Dr. Ana Stelline, a Wallace subcontractor who manufactures memories for replicants. Here we have a theme that’s been repeated over and over in sci-fi films for decades. If manufacturing memory grants replicants humanity, then what effect might the manipulation of memory have on humans? The studies of the effects of social media on children is already coming in and there’s certainly a case to be made that not only is it shortening attention spans, but having adverse effects on mental health. More importantly, if people are increasingly reliant on internet connectivity for the acquisition of information, and the portal through which reality is perceived is through tech giants, what effect might this have on cultural consensus? Since AI itself was a far fetched notion a few decades back, is it unreasonable to assert that the tech overlords are very much in the business of manufacturing memory and that we’ve willingly submitted to the digital temptations which facilitate this very outcome? If a cataclysmic digital blackout which destroyed the digital past was the event which crippled civilization so badly that it enabled a technocratic cyberpunk dictatorship, can we really read this film as just another Hollywood entertainment spectacle? A certain quote from George Orwell’s 1984 comes to mind.

This eventually leads K to the ruins of Las Vegas in his quest for Deckard and presumably, the secrets of his own past. Just as we saw with Rian Johnson’s molestation of the legacy of Luke Skywalker, we find Deckard living a life of pure isolation. Taking up residence in one of the relatively intact Las Vegas hotels, Deckard embodies both manhood and fatherhood lost amongst the ruins of decadence and ephemeral pleasures. Forced to relinquish fatherhood in hopes of allowing his child a shot at life free from the fear of being hunted by Blade Runners, Deckard entrusted their care to a sort of underground replicant railroad. There is nothing but brokenness and dissolution in this world. It wants you to accept that loyalty and the bonds of familial cohesion are nothing you should expect.

Rick Deckard: Sometimes to love someone, you got to be a stranger.

Reminding us once again that the walls of our cyberpunk panopticon have been constructed by our own technological addictions, Luv and the Wallace goon squad are able to track K through the mobile device that runs the Joi hologram app. After nearly getting blown to smithereens, Luv and her goon squad put a serious beating on K. Showing us once again that this film is solidly committed to perverting every ideal, Luv the Replicant destroys K’s actual holographic love by smashing the mobile device that enables her projected image. What an absolutely evil bitch.

It wouldn’t be a Hollywood movie if there weren’t some kind of #RESISTANCE movement, and Blade Runner 2049 is no exception. After being badly wounded by Luv and Wallace’s goons, K is treated by the Replicant Liberation Front who’ve been tracking his movements all along. Freysa and her replicant revolutionaries believe that the replicant-human child is their their Messiah, and they want K to join them in their final revolution against the yoke of human tyranny. If humans could see that replicants could procreate, they’d be compelled to grant them the same liberties as humans. Aside from the obvious parallels to the various pro-immigration interests in the US and EU, this encounter draws another bright line of distinction between the progressive and conservative worldview. Since the dawn of modern age, the pillars of society that once provided the guideposts of cultural prescription have long since been eroded. Though the Western tradition makes accommodation for individual liberty, the levees of conservatism have been unable to ward off the tidal wave of modernity and the radical individualism of the progressive Left. A spiritual void needs to be filled, and in the mind of the progressive, that means a never-ending rebellion against order itself. Instead of the eternal God of Judeo-Christian faith, there is an earthly god of #EQUALITY and the perpetual pursuit of universal rights to be bestowed to an ever expanding underclass. For the progressive, the quiet, modest virtues of personal responsibility, family, and community must be supplanted by a revolutionary cause against an omnipresent oppression.

Freysa: Dying for the right cause. It’s the most human thing we can do.

Deckard is brought before Wallace who is intent on extracting the location of his hybrid child. Deckard resists, so Wallace uses an even more powerful enticement: a perfect replica of Rachael. Deckard refuses because he knows it’s a fake. Again, the film blurs the line between reality and illusion by having Deckard reject the Rachael copy simply because the color of her eyes was wrong. His experience of love was real to him, but Rachael was a replicant in the first place. Wallace condemns him to a torture facility and sends him off with Luv and some goons. After a final reunion with a giant hologram of Joi which crushes every last byte of their virtual love affair, K is faced with an existential choice. Aid the Great Replicant Proletarian Revolution by killing Deckard or kill the replicant-human hybrid to prevent Wallace from completing his dominion. A final confrontation occurs in Luv’s downed spinner on the ocean’s edge between K and Luv. It culminates with K vanquishing Luv and then rescuing Deckard from drowning in a quasi-baptism scene. K fulfills his own destiny by reuniting Deckard with Stelline. On the surface, it feels like a pretty huge symbolic moment because he forswears communist revolution and ethno-nationalism and chooses simply to reunite a father with his daughter. But if Stelline is the future, then the new Messiah is a manufacturer of memories for replicants. The holographic future of manufactured memory is female, proles.

Fantastic.

It’s not my realm of expertise, but there is undoubtedly deeper significance to the recurrence of eye imagery, water, the blue/orange dualism and the various numbers found throughout the film. Nothing is left to chance in films this big, and I find it hard to believe that there is no symbolism behind these choices. There were two things that caught my attention though. The first was the Cyrillic script on Sapper Morton’s farm facilities. On the one hand, you could chalk it up to the fact that the world of Blade Runner is just a multicultural remix of its former self. Where once there were distinct nation states with distinct cultures, here every nation coexists within a completely artificial simulacrum of itself refracted through the lens of corporatism. On the other, Sapper Morton was part of the Replicant Liberation Front. Is this a subtle inversion of the Virgin Lands Campaign under Khrushchev? I’m going with YES. Later in the film, there is an advertisement for the Soviet Union complete with hammer and sickle icons and everything. Perhaps it’s sci-fi alternative history, but by placing it in the advertising endorphin drip, it anesthetizes it and makes it no different from ads for holographic sex, food or leisure. See, proles? Communism is as safe as milk. Don’t listen to those socialism-phobic right-wing bigots. What do they know anyway, amirite?

The soundtrack by Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch is also a thing of dark beauty. Where Vangelis’ original was a dream of wires, moments of celestial beauty peered through console. In contrast, the Zimmer/Wallfisch soundtrack is something akin to the child laborers picking out the rare minerals of the motherboards of its predecessor. It’s yawning vistas of synthesized melancholy punctuated by rhythmic clusters of cybernetic paranoia covered by storm clouds of digitized menace. The reprise of “Tears in the Rain” at the end is a nice touch and a fitting reminder that not only did Vangelis allow a little more light in his vision, but it was sensual and tender. They break the pall of gloom ever so slightly by including choice tracks by Elvis and Frank Sinatra. The pop anthem by Lauren Daigle at the end is the only real disappointment. The fact that she’s a Christian singer strikes me as a very interesting choice given the distinctly despairing and secular nihilism of this film. I wonder if it’s also some kind of postmodern joke.

As much as the commentary in Blade Runner 2049 makes me queasy, it’s difficult for me to hate on it because it’s so beautifully made and it’s a cool story. Like so many other people, Blade Runner was a touchstone of my youth and films like it are so deeply woven into my own story. And perhaps that’s been the point all along. I’ve been watching dystopian sci-fi movies for years and like the works of Orwell, Bradbury and Huxley, I always saw them as warnings to humanity. They were stories of biblical scale that served as a permanent injunction to the human race. Hold on to your humanity at all costs, and always remember that there are good things to defend and preserve. Part of me wants to think that underneath the crushing despair, this is the message of Blade Runner 2049. Part of me wants to think that this belongs to the venerable tradition of the great dystopian works of yore in that it’s a movie that wants you to free your mind and break the system. The calling card of all great dystopian sci-fi was the struggle of man against the machine of the State. Logan 5 was a hero because he broke the conditioning of his technocratic overlords and returned to society to expose the lies and break the system. Today, the Logan 5’s of the world are people like James Damore and Jordan Peterson. In this film, they’re asking you to empathize with the machines. Not only that, they want you to become the machines. It’s the replicants who are desperately seeking humanity because there isn’t any to be found in the actual humans. They’ve taken all of the packaging of individualist rebellion that was once the province of human agency, and handed it off to the replicants. As good as Blade Runner 2049 is, I’m not entirely convinced it’s a movie that wants you to keep your humanity.

How To Destroy a Beloved Pop Culture Franchise 

  1. Populate every important creative post with humorless ideologues who can’t tell stories and have nothing but contempt for the core audience.
  2. Make every story about race, gender and sexuality. All heroes will be female or POC and will have no flaws or character arcs. All villains will be white males. 
  3. Dismiss all criticism as the ravings of bigoted, butthurt fanboy trolls who can’t handle #DIVERSITY.  
  4. Sit back and watch the audience disappear while you lap up the plaudits from everyone who has the exact same opinions you do. 
  5. Repeat steps 1 through 4 until said property is universally loathed by everyone.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

I was fully prepared to hate this film. I left The Force Awakens rather underwhelmed and not caring much about the fate of the new generation of heroes. I heard all about the cringey SJW content before I saw it. Friends whose opinions I hold in high regard heaped condemnation upon it. I read spoiler filled reviews and yet, despite all these things, I must confess that I enjoyed it more than I expected. That’s not because it’s a great movie. It’s not. It’s not even a Star Wars film. Perhaps having my expectations at rock bottom lowered my defenses, but somehow I found myself taken in by its absurd energy.

Besides resolving the stories of the legacy characters, The Last Jedi needed above all else a reason to exist. The original trilogy was about Luke’s journey from farm boy to Jedi Knight. The prequels showed us Anakin’s slide to the Dark Side against a backdrop of a republic in decline. What could the new series do that the originals didn’t other than swap in a female protagonist, a more multicultural cast and lots of heavy handed PC feminist preaching? Not much apparently.

For the Disney Corporation, the window dressing of the mythology is all it needs. Despite being nonsensical and utterly unhinged from its predecessor films, TLJ is more entertaining than it deserves to be. It has too much politicized content, too many plot holes, and way too many deus ex machinas even for a would-be Star Wars film. It’s ultimately yet another predictable variation on Disney’s brand of progressive establishment chic packaged as ersatz contrarianism. It’s as though all of the anti-Trump hysteria was hatched inside the Disney executive offices from the start and this film is just the latest adrenaline shot of confirmation bias. They might as well have put a hashtag in front of the word RESISTANCE in the opening crawl.

It’s the longest film in the series, but the plot amounts to little more than a story of an elite squadron of First Order Star Destroyers waiting for a rapidly dwindling Resistance fleet to run out of gas which culminates in a remix of the Hoth sequence from Empire. Characters remain under written or wasted altogether. Basic storytelling and character development has been forsaken. Rian Johnson’s pathological desperation to take the franchise into a “new direction” by rejecting canonical precepts has sapped the film of meaning and reduced it to a mind numbing, albeit somewhat engaging, endorphin rush.

There is a distinctly postmodern relativism at the core of this film. The original films worked because actions and relationships mattered. The storyline proceeded logically from how the world was presented to you. There were identifiable arcs of emotional growth. In the new series, those classical storytelling pillars are either absent or routinely demolished. The net effect manages to hold your attention, but it utterly fails to have any dramatic or emotional impact.

The Good

I agree with George Lucas in that TLJ is a beautifully made film. Everything from the set pieces to the art direction to the location shots is top quality big budget sci-fi.

Despite the lack of meaning, the various battle sequences were well done. The Reylo light saber fight against the Pretorian Guard was indeed pretty rousing. The final sequence on the mineral planet Crait was a visual marvel to behold.

Even with its narrative sprawl and numerous flaws, it hangs together way better than I expected.

The Cringe

The cringe abounds in The Last Jedi and the feminist preaching plays a pretty significant role. This film could easily be subtitled The Estrogen Strikes Back or The Feminism Awakens. All the female characters are uniformly portrayed as wise, capable and powerful. Laura Dern is utterly grating as Vice Admiral Tumblrina and literally looks like purple haired feminist activist dressed up in an evening gown. She comes across more like a bitchy college gender studies professor than a seasoned military leader of an armed resistance. Michelle Forbes’ Admiral Cain in Battlestar Galactica was the most convincing female portrait of a military commander I’ve yet witnessed and neither the character or Dern was even remotely close to that benchmark. Kelly Marie Tran makes her debut as the infinitely annoying and pointless Rose Tico. Besides delivering one of the dumbest lines in the canon, her character’s sole existence seems calculated to provide fodder for breathless commentaries from feminist media about how Refreshing it is to Finally See a Strong Womyn POC in a Star Wars film.

None of these features are mitigated by this film’s treatment of Rey. I thought Rey was a Mary Sue the first time around and this film has only reinforced that belief. There’s absolutely nothing underpinning her character arc nor anything that justifies her prodigious expertise in everything. Like the recent Wonder Woman film, I was never fearful for her life nor did I sense any real weakness or vulnerability. Her backstory was set up to be an important mystery, but this film essentially nullified that possibility. She seems to have no residual feelings of abandonment, sadness or resentment and this only compounds her lack of believability as a fully rendered character.

Leia’s appearance in this film is barely more consequential than it was in TFA. In a way, making her the general of an ad hoc resistance only reinforces the idea that her attempt at restoring the Republic was an abject failure. More on that later.

And let’s just say the less said about the Forcebook Messenger scenes the better. But hey. This Force is whatever the fuck you want it to be so whatevs man.

The Annoying

Closely related to the cringey parts are heaps of annoying preaching, misplaced attempts at humor and bad character decisions. The men are all hot headed, impetuous buffoons who are not only deprived of opportunities to be heroic, but are routinely required to genuflect to their feminist superiors.

Rose and Finn’s side mission to the resort city of Canto Bight was merely a platform for Rose to bitch about evil, rich arms dealers and animal cruelty. Never mind that the Resistance required armaments and military vehicles themselves. Somehow that stigma doesn’t apply to them. How convenient.

The Marvelesque humor completely undermines the dramatic tension. This is technically a grim portrait of a band of rebel militants suffering great losses at the hands of a brutal dictatorship, but the wisecracking jokes never allow you to feel the weight of any of it. Star Wars had lots of humorous moments, but it was always very earnest when it wanted to pull at the heart strings. Either Rian Johnson doesn’t grasp this concept or he is simply too willing to bend Star Wars into a corporate mold.

The Stupid

There was a reason Lucas cast Peter Cushing to play Grand Moff Tarkin. He wanted the Imperial leader of the Death Star to have gravitas. The Imperial villains are morally corrupt totalitarians, but these are also supposed to be men who can command Stormtrooper armies, TIE fighter squadrons, and Star Destroyer crews. They’re meant to be men who simultaneously elicit fear and command respect. Gareth Edwards understood this, and that’s why Orson Krennic worked. Johnson made General Hux and other First Order officers cartoonish jackasses and bumbling progressive caricatures of the Alt Right.

The battle sequences look great, but there are plenty of head scratching moments. Not to get all Neil deGrasse Tyson, but bombs will not drop downward without gravity. You can’t tell me that a First Order Dreadnought has no shields and no defenses against single pilot fighters. Force sensitivity or not, humans cannot withstand exposure to the vacuum of space. I’m not expecting scientific realism from Star Wars, but these liberties were a bit much.

Making BB-8 a deus ex machina droid who manages to get our heroes out of every conceivable jam just doesn’t work. The Porgs were stupid and served no purpose in the story other than to turn Chewbacca into an unwitting vessel for vegan propaganda.

The Pointless

Why build up characters like Snoke and Phasma if they just end up getting killed off without a character arc? Snoke was presented as a Dark Side Badass comparable or perhaps greater than Palpatine himself and he was eliminated in the stupidest and most anticlimactic way imaginable. Phasma was wasted in TFA and she was wasted in this film. At least Darth Maul got to go out with a spectacular lightsaber fight.

Why is Finn in this series other than to score PC virtue points? His character had potential to be interesting, but after vanquishing his former superior, what remains for him to accomplish? Why is Rose in this film other than to give the writers at The Mary Sue something to praise and to set up a love triangle in the final installment?

And I still don’t get Kylo Ren at all. His character isn’t intimidating or interesting. His journey to the Dark Side doesn’t make sense to me. I can understand that he would harbor resentment towards Han Solo for being an absentee father. If I accept that Luke tried to take him out, he makes a little more sense. Beyond the fact that his mother was a politician, I don’t understand why he wants to rule the galaxy.

The WTF

I know it’s useless to expect this level of nuance from Disney, but this new series essentially renders the predecessor films null and void. The Original Trilogy ends with two decisive military victories against the Empire accompanied by visible fanfare from every corner of the galaxy. The Force Awakens ends with yet another decisive military victory against the First Order, but somehow, that was inconsequential and the Resistance remain an embattled underdog hanging by a thread.

How did the First Order amass such military might in the thirty year span between the end of Return of the Jedi and the beginning of The Force Awakens? Why did the New Republic fail at governance so badly after being ushered back into power on the heels of galaxy wide popular support? Why wasn’t the entire galaxy united against the First Order after the Starkiller Base wiped out all those planets? Star Wars remains a film about war. Wars are fought in service of ideological agendas and to advance political goals. The Resistance were supposedly a faction of the New Republic, and presumably, they wish to reclaim political power. This reveals the film’s fundamental nihilism. There are no ideals it is willing to uphold beyond its shallow PC sermonizing. It’s just presenting a perpetual posture of rebellion accompanied by some candy ass Hope and Change platitudes as virtues unto themselves. And in case it wasn’t clear from the film, womyn are wonderful, powerful and wise. M*n are stupid, brash and reckless. Don’t eat meat. Be kind to animals and always remember that capitalism is evil. Except for the Disney Corporation.

The same goes for Johnson’s arbitrary demolition of the entire canonical tradition of the Force. Becoming a Jedi Knight and mastering the Force was consistently portrayed as a pursuit that required training, discipline and self-sacrifice. It also required mastery of your emotions. You can’t just have Leia do a Force enabled Mary Poppins in the vacuum of space when she’s undergone no training whatsoever. The path to the Dark Side was always portrayed as succumbing to hatred and fear. It’s what gave the Jedi quest dramatic weight. But now, none of that matters. Rey is a Force prodigy, and she already possesses more knowledge than the generations of Jedi who preceded her. Cuz vagina or something.

Luke Skywalker

I consider myself among those who see this film as an unsatisfying, undignified kick in the testicles to the legacy of Luke Skywalker. The final resolution of the greatest mythological figure of the modern era should have reduced the audience to a weeping mess, but it amounts to little more than a Force enabled Snapchat moment. I don’t buy that Luke Skywalker would despair so badly that he would go into self-imposed exile. I don’t buy that Luke Skywalker would spit on the legacy of the Jedi Order by allowing it to die with him. I don’t buy that Luke Skywalker would attempt to execute his nephew just because he sensed Ben Solo’s temptation towards the Dark Side. Mark Hamill’s instincts about Rian Johnson’s script were correct from the outset.

Johnson is basically saying that Luke Skywalker’s final stand against evil is a Force enabled Skype session in which he trolls Kylo Ren and the First Order. He’s saying that just because the Jedi Order betrayed their code, that in and of itself is sufficient grounds for burning the legacy of the Jedi to the ground. And somehow, this is sufficient to reignite Hope throughout the galaxy.

Nope. Fuck you, Rian Johnson.

James Cameron’s Avatar: Cinematic Sci-fi Classic or SJW Cringefest Supreme?

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If James Cameron’s 2009 sci-fi epic weren’t so masterfully made and deeply entertaining, it would be very easy to hate for its obnoxious political editorial. Admittedly, there are people who already do, but I’m a sucker for a well crafted story and epic world building and Avatar has both in spades. Sadly, few films rival the heavy handed political messaging of Avatar. In fact, the sheer quantity of SJW subtext is equaled only by its towering achievements as pure cinema. It pains me to admit it because I actually still really like this film. Even if I completely disengage from what the movie is saying, there’s nothing I’d criticize. It’s about as well made a sci-fi blockbuster as you could hope for. It has an inventive sci-fi premise, relatable characters, a high stakes dramatic conflict, a love story, breathtaking action sequences, and of course, outrageously cool visuals. In contrast to the never-ending conveyor belt of cookie cutter superheroes and franchise properties, Avatar is also the rarest of breeds in cinematic sci-fi: an original story. As historians look back on this period of ideological division and examine the degree to which Hollywood shaped the culture war, I’m willing to wager that Avatar will be regarded as a landmark film not just for its cinematic bravura, but for its near fanatical commitment to every article of faith in contemporary PC orthodoxy.

Environmentalism

There are many reasons that Hollywood is using sci-fi, fantasy and superhero stories as the primary delivery systems for reinforcing PC orthodoxy. Not the least of which is that these genres lend themselves to the construction of mythic archetypes and imparting of moral lessons divorced from any religious framework. Sci-fi in particular has the added benefit of extrapolating from some kind of scientific premise which has the subsequent effect of reinforcing the belief in unbounded human progress driven by science itself. Or in Avatar’s case, the twin belief that the pursuit of science in and of itself is intrinsically good and the power of science must be trained toward some utopian dream of an earthly eco-paradise.

Pandora is an idyllic and verdant jungle paradise which also happens to be the richest supply of the universe’s most coveted resource, Unobtainium. The Na’vi live harmoniously with their environment and all of the biodiversity on Pandora. Meanwhile, the dirty, evil, soulless capitalists of the RDA just want to bulldoze the planet and strip mine its resources. The only thing standing between them and their ruinous objective are the scientists on their own payroll overseeing the Avatar project.

Sigourney Weaver’s Dr. Grace Augustine and her #WOKE, multicultural team are not only experts at Na’vi and human genetic engineering, neuroscience, biology, and botany, but cultural anthropology as well. There’s nothing inherently wrong with making scientists the film’s superheroes since that’s a longstanding feature of the sci-fi genre, but it’s an awful lot of scientific expertise in one team. Just sayin’.

As the film reaches its conclusion, Augustine tries to persuade the morally ambiguous corporate director, Parker Selfridge, that destroying the Tree of Souls will be devastating to the entire Na’vi race. Through her research, she discovered that the entire species communicates with their ancestors and the planet’s biodiversity through a vast quasi-neural network that’s barely understood by our brutish and greedy human minds.

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This is one of Avatar’s cleverest sleights of hand. The Na’vi have a spiritual tradition centered around an entity called Eywa; an amalgamation of genetic ancestral memory and a supposedly quasi-mystical spirit of life. Rather than writing a completely atheist scientist who is hostile towards the very idea of spirituality, Cameron has Augustine arguing against the destruction of the sacred Tree on PURELY SCIENTIFIC grounds. He didn’t just make Eywa some flying spaghetti monster, he grounded their spirituality in a specific feature of Pandoran biology and botany. This way, Cameron has his environmentalist cake and eats it, too. The harmonious communion with nature that is the centrepiece of Na’vi morality and spirituality is just PURE SCIENCE, MAN! And if it wasn’t for Grace Augustine’s tireless scientific research, the monsters of the RDA would not have had an opportunity for a moral awakening.

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Trans-identitarianism

I realize it might seem a stretch to argue that Avatar is tacitly pro-trans identity, but in the near decade that has elapsed since the film’s release, what seems like a really cool sci-fi premise is starting to seem a lot like a metaphor for the anything goes trans-identitarianism that’s now a staple on the Left. As a genre, science fiction earned its name because the authors were taking a scientific idea or premise and building a human drama by spinning out its ramifications in a possible far future or alien civilization. Avatar is a classic example since the core conceit builds off a premise that’s already a partially realized real world phenomenon through the VR imaging technology. In the film, Grace Augustine’s team had developed a way to merge a human consciousness with a Na’vi body. It’s a leap of imagination for sure, but not so far a leap that you had to completely check your skepticism at the door.

Sam Worthington plays the paraplegic veteran, Jake Sully, who is given an opportunity to replace his twin brother in the Avatar project due to his brother’s untimely demise. His job is to infiltrate the Na’vi and relay intelligence back to RDA while Grace and team simply hope to restore the broken trust between the two societies. As Jake is pulled deeper into the world of the Na’vi, he begins to have a moral and identity crisis. He begins to think his life inside his Na’vi avatar is real life while his life as a soulless grunt for a bunch of predatory humans is the fake. You could say it’s Pandoran body dysphoria. Because progressive orthodoxy accords inherent moral superiority to immutable characteristics belonging to people on the bottom of the oppression hierarchy, Jake’s Na’vi manifestation is on the side of #SocialJustice. So what does Jake do? He comes out as trans-Na’vi, that’s what.

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You don’t have to look very far to find that this is increasingly commonplace here on earth. Whether it’s Rachel Dolezal, Shaun King, Martina Big, or Elizabeth Warren, identifying as transracial has been accorded the progressive seal of #WOKENESS.

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Of course, trans-identitarianism doesn’t stop there. Maybe you feel that you’re a different age that doesn’t correspond to the number of years you’ve actually been alive on this  planet. No problem. Just follow the example of Stefonknee Wolscht. Or perhaps you feel that you too were born the wrong species. You can be trans-species, too. Everything is a social construct, you #BIGOT.

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Feminism

James Cameron has a well established track record of writing strong female leads which, in contrast to the numerous cartoonish feminist power fantasies to which we’re routinely subjected, are actually pretty believable by comparison. Besides being one of the best sequels in modern cinematic history, his contribution to the saga of Ellen Ripley should have been lauded as a feminist classic. The same could be said of Sarah Connor in the first two Terminator films. The three lead female characters in Avatar follow the precedent of his earlier films in that they embody his unique spin on the Tough, Smart Yet Tender Hearted Badass archetype. Most importantly, just as the Holy Church of Feminism mandates, each character is a paragon of virtue. Taken together, they form the moral conscience of the film.

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As Dr. Grace Augustine, Sigourney Weaver’s character is modeled very closely on Frances Sternhagen’s lovably grumpy performance of Dr. Lazarus from the 1981 classic, Outland. Augustine is an appealing mixture of passionate dedication, steely resolve, no nonsense bluntness and bleeding heart compassion. Whether acting as a mentor to Jake Sully or upbraiding the villainous Colonel Quaritch, Augustine risks everything to prevent the extinction of the Na’vi.

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Even though Jennette Goldstein’s Private Vasquez in Aliens was more entertaining, Michelle Rodriguez’ Trudy Chacón is the Latina Badass of Avatar. When the RDA goons launch an aerial bombardment of the Na’vi Hometree, Chacón has a crisis of conscience and goes AWOL just as the missiles start launching. After that mission, Chacón goes completely rogue and devotes herself exclusively to helping Augustine, Sully and the Na’vi.

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And of course, rounding out this trifecta of feminine moral purity is Zoe Saldana’s Neytiri. Neytiri combines the virtues of both Augustine and Chacón in that she is proficient in combat, physically strong, fully attuned to her natural environment, and willing to defy the tribal elders. Between the three of them, we are presented with a fully rendered portrait of Divine Feminist Perfection. Smart, tough, capable, defiant, sexy and maternal. Cameron gets away with it because the characters are appealing and he doesn’t completely jettison heterosexual romance or female biological reality. Needless to say, actual feminists spend more time wearing pussy hats and blogging on Tumblr than learning the kinds of skills these characters possess, but the Church of Feminism commands its subjects to write female characters which portray women as morally pure, infinitely capable saviors, redeemers and didacts. Though I’m sure there are plenty of women in the police, military and athletics who can handle firearms, engage in hand to hand combat and pilot advanced military vehicles, these abilities are still primarily male skill sets. Giving them to the women is just a way to  appease the male audience.

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The Church of Feminism also mandates that male characters follow Feminist Law and be cursed with the Original Sin of Toxic Masculinity. Naturally, no one embodies it more than the film’s unequivocally wicked Colonel Miles Quaritch. In another era, Quaritch would be a hero. He’s tough as nails and lives by a soldier’s code of honor. He’s so badass, he can forego a respirator in Pandoran atmosphere and unload two weapons’ worth of rounds and won’t even feel a thing. Since this is the Age of #SocialJustice, Cameron has taken a classically heroic male archetype and made him a cold blooded mercenary who lives only to kill for the highest bidder. Even The Magnificent Seven had a moral code, but Cameron won’t even grant him that much.

Jake is simply the wounded and crippled version of Quaritch. He wanted to serve a heroic ideal by being in the service, but only ended up losing his ability to walk by fighting a pointless imperialist war. Jake’s longing for a courageous ideal and sense of purpose also serves as a metaphor for the yearning experienced by vast number of young men growing up in the West who’ve largely been stripped of their historical roles as protectors and guardians.

Jake Sully: I became a Marine for the hardship. Told myself that I can pass any test a man can pass. All I ever wanted was a single thing worth fighting for.

Despite finding the ideal and sense of purpose he originally sought by becoming his Na’vi avatar, he still required salvation from his female guardian. Male ideals and archetypes are just toxic delusions which lead to dangerous consequences. Take that, manhood!

Scientism

Like Interstellar, Gravity, The Martian and Europa Report, Avatar is part of a newer tradition of sci-fi films that are attempting to bring some semblance of scientific realism to the story. While I reject pedantic cunts like Neil DeGrasse Tyson who think that fact checking art somehow instills a deeper appreciation of science or improves art, films like Avatar which inject just enough scientific realism to make you think about real world possibilities are doing it right. Besides the few grains of scientific plausibility in Avatar, Cameron is presenting something a bit less appealing: Scientism.

The RDA just want to harvest Unobtainium, but the scientists just want to learn and understand the Na’vi, brah. Avatar canonizes a secular article of faith that goes back to Thomas Paine and finds modem expression in figures ranging from Roddenberry to Sagan to Hawking to Dawkins. The pursuit of science all by itself is inherently Good. #SCYENCE will guide humanity back to a primeval state of brotherly harmony and Oneness with Gaia.

Anti-capitalism

There are few things in the world quite as galling as multimillionaire entrepreneurial elites in the creative class selling a Marxist, anti-capitalist narrative, and this is among Cameron’s greatest sins in the messaging of Avatar. It’s understandably self-serving, but it’s more about anesthetizing people with a cynical and simplistic narrative of how the world works rather than provoking new thought. There is literally nothing controversial about presenting a fictitious intergalactic corporate conglomerate as amoral, predatory, and greedy.

This isn’t to say that corporations and entrepreneurs are above reproach or have no moral failures. This isn’t to say that a strictly scientific and materialistic view of the world hasn’t produced some adverse social problems, but Avatar is presenting capitalism in the same Manichean binary that’s the defining feature of Marxism. The lesson of Avatar is that capitalism by definition is exploitative and compels people to dominate and pillage. It’s also very loudly proclaiming that private military armies won’t have any moral compass. There’s no attempt to distinguish between crony capitalist wards of the State versus the entrepreneur who has no protection or special dispensation from the government. We don’t really know anything about the RDA’s connections to the State, but if we’re to treat them as a far future Halliburton, then it follows that they’re being awarded very handsome government contracts. If one wanted to be pedantic, one would question the economic feasibility of colonizing a distant planet, transporting military grade aircraft and armaments over interstellar distances, deploying and maintaining state of the art technology while employing scientists, technical staff, and private security.  The market demand and market price for Unobtainium must be pretty high. Just sayin’.

Once again, Cameron wants to have his anti-capitalist cake and eat it too. He’s denigrating the very system which allowed him to become a world renowned filmmaker. He profits from the very resource intensive technology which allows him to make his art.

Anti-colonialism/Marxist historicism

Sci-fi, fantasy and superhero franchises have the critically important feature of being completely unmoored from actual history while very subtly affecting the way you perceive history.  Avatar is a work of science fiction, but it serves as a proxy for the colonization of America and the West in general.

By today’s standards of #WOKE progressivism, all the dirty, evil white man has ever done is rape, pillage and conquer. This is essentially an article of faith for anyone on the progressive Left. Beginning with the works of Howard Zinn and Gore Vidal, the progressive Left increasingly views the advancement of the West as nothing more than a series of horrific oppressions while consistently downplaying or ignoring the ideas that differentiate it from other cultures.

Noble savage/Anti-white racism

Avatar rehashes the so called “noble savage” myth that was arguably made into an article of faith by Rousseau. In his famous “Discourse on Inequality“, Rousseau romanticizes premodern man before the instantiation of property rights. In this state of primeval and harmonious bliss, we were untainted by greed, violence and envy.

The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying This is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows, “Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody.

This is, in effect, the entire subtext of Avatar and the ideal of premodern moral purity that the Na’vi represent. He isn’t even trying to hide the message either. You too can learn how to live like the selfless, spiritually #WOKE Na’vi simply by using the home computing device that you bought in the marketplace and accessing the Avatar homepage using software developed by a tech company over networks built and maintained by a telecommunications corporation. Because you know you should and capitalism is totes evil, brah. Bernie said so.

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But it’s even worse than that. Cameron portrays Jake’s defection as a betrayal of his race. By extension, we’re to view Quaritch’s final dig at Jake as a wickedness that’s intrinsic to his white racial consciousness. Whereas Jake’s willingness to relinquish his broken and morally compromised Caucasian body in order to live as Na’vi is evidence of his Christlike resurrection.

Col. Quaritch: Hey Sully… how does it feel to betray your own race? You think you’re one of them? Time to wake up!

In this Age of #SocialJustice, it is increasingly taken as an article of faith that the White M*n and everything produced by him is inherently evil and corrupt. In the materialist mindset of the progressive Left, morality is attributed to material phenomena by default. If it’s not physical privation resulting from inequality, it’s the sin of white racial consciousness. And what better way to reinforce that lesson by making the heroes of your sci-fi epic a fictional race of aliens who live in an ethnically homogeneous premodern, hereditary tribal order with no technology, democratic institutions, or even written language. Just face it, proles. Your civilization sucks. And it’s because you’re WHITE.

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Conclusion

Despite the very dubious and heavy handed preaching in Avatar, I still believe it retains its place as a supremely entertaining 21st century sci-fi classic. I also believe it helped canonize several articles of faith in the contemporary #SocialJustice bible. And that’s too bad. Because when art limits itself to the confines of political ideology, it stops being good art and it turns into propaganda.

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