You may or may not remember my last blog entry. Entitled "Podcasting Is A Man's Vocation", I gave you, my dear, dear readers, a brand-new podcast to enjoy. And while I am happy to report that the aforementioned podcast, entitled Battle For The Planet Of The Showgirls, has been enjoyed by several people, I am not here to talk about my rousing success as the internet's reigning King Of Podcastery. No, that's not why I'm here at all.
The true reason why I have taken up my trusty old keyboard once more, on this beautiful midwestern day (or night, depending on what's going on outside. I have no idea, for I live in a windowless dungeon), has to do with the postscript at the end of the previous entry. In it, I promised two things: that a review of the new Zowie Bowie film Source Code was "forthcoming", and that it would be "creepy". That was over two weeks ago.
Now I could bullshit you, telling you that I was overcome with a sudden fit of monkey pox and was bedridden these past two weeks, hovering somewhere between life and death, hallucinating like a decadent rock star of some bygone era. Or I could simply say that I was a very busy man, and that I had no time for simple blogging. But that would be a lie, for I am not a busy man.
There are no terrible pressing concerns in my life, unless you count the truly insane number of episodes of Secret Diary Of A Call Girl languishing on my DVR, and considering the fact that most of those episodes have waited patiently for over a year, I see nothing remotely "pressing" about that.
So why have I been away for so long? What the hell could I possibly have been doing that is more important than rambling about Die Hard meets Groundhog Day? Absolutely nothing. You see? Honesty. That's why you come to The Book Of Lies for all your blog-related needs. I'm a plain and honest man. A straight shooter. A regular Honest Abe, even.
In fact, I am so infatuated with emulating my favorite 16th President of the United States that I hope to be assassinated while attending a performance of The Devil Wore Wranglers this autumn at the Mosley Street Melodrama. Fingers crossed! And yes, that was a shameless plug for the Mosley Street Melodrama. A plain and honest man I may be, but also a shameless plug-whore. Plug-whore... that sounds positively filthy when you think about it.
Jesus. I have confused myself. What exactly was I trying to do here? What was the point? Ah, I think I was referring to my crippling laziness regarding my inability to write a review of Source Code. And I think I've made my point. I am a lazy dude. That's the only reason. It's not because I didn't like Source Code. It's only because I am part manatee. They're not called "sea cows" for nothing, folks!
But now that I am here, typing on this frustratingly small keyboard (damn these flippers!), I figure I might as well string together a few words about this motion picture Summit Entertainment insists on calling Source Code. Personally, I would have sold it as a sequel to Jake Gyllenhaal's tremendous 2010 hit, Prince Of Persia: The Sands Of Time. But the studio refused to acknowledge my persistent e-mails.
Their loss, I suppose.
What Is It With Jake Gyllenhaal And Time Travel?
Source Code is the story of a US Army helicopter pilot named Colter Stevens, who wakes up on a commuter train en route to Chicago. The last thing he remembers is sitting at the controls of a chopper over Afghanistan, and now he finds himself sitting across from a young woman with a Silly Putty face. He gets understandably confused and hides away in a bathroom, where he realizes the reflection in the mirror is not his own.
If that's not bad enough, the train quickly explodes, and just as the all-consuming fire begins to sear the flesh from his bones, he wakes up in a windowless capsule, with that adulteress from Up In The Air rambling in his ear about playing cards. Colter Stevens is having a really bad day.
So what the hell is happening to poor Mister Stevens? Set your motherfucker to receive: A brilliant and slightly deranged scientist (Jeffrey Wright) has created the technological marvel of the ages with something he calls "the source code". Now this "source code", through some incredibly shaky pseudo-science, allows an individual who fits a strict set of criteria to essentially hijack the final 8 minutes of a deceased individual's life. Yeah, that sounds totally plausible.
Earlier in the morning, a terrorist detonated a bomb on a commuter train headed for Chicago. The U.S. government believes that a second, much more devastating attack is imminent. So Professor Wright revs up his super-duper Source Code Command Center and sets about his task: sending Stevens back to the final 8 minutes of one doomed commuter's life, again and again and again, until he identifies the terrorist, who had to have been close by to place the explosives on the train and remotely detonate them via his smartphone. After the terrorist is identified, the FBI can track him/her down and subdue him/her before the second attack can take place. Sounds easy, right?
Not as easy as it sounds, dickhead. Let's face it, 8 minutes simply isn't a huge amount of time. And Stevens becomes understandably sick and tired of being consumed by a wall of fire and waking up in a cold sweat floating in some disturbing, womb-like capsule. He's told that he's been training for this mission for two months, but he has no memory of these two months. Nobody will tell him where he is, and they refuse to let him contact his father. And although he is a trained soldier, surely he can't be the most qualified candidate for such a delicate endeavor. Also, he's slowly started to fall in love with Lady Clayface, the girl he is forced to see die horribly ad infinitum. I do not envy Colter Stevens.
Can Stevens find this nefarious terrorist and prevent the next attack? Will anyone back at Source Code HQ ever level with him? And despite Professor Wright's insistence to the contrary, is "source code" more than just a limited phenomenon? Is it a closed time-loop, or something else, something extraordinary? Can he save the strange girl with the clown's face that he loves?
I Broke My Decoder Ring!
The answers are: Yes, Yes, Yes, and Hell Yes. Is that too vague? Fine, then. I'll spell it out for you. Two months earlier, Colter's chopper came under fire, crashing in Afghanistan. Declared KIA, he became the property of Professor Wright, for use in his "source code" experiments. What's left of him, anyway. See, all that remains of Colter Stevens is a mutilated torso and a half-ruined head. His grey matter is hard-wired to the "source code" database, and the capsule he keeps returning to after his time jaunts is actually a mental construct.
Finally learning the truth, Stevens manages to I.D. the suspect, then convinces his sympathetic handler (Vera Farmiga) to give him one more trip through "the source code" before shutting down his life support system. On board the train once again, he disarms the bomb, apprehends the terrorist, and kisses the woman he loves just as his plug is pulled. The camera twists and turns through a tableaux of frozen faces on the train, and the audience starts to feel a little melancholy.
But never fear! The scene snaps out of its extended freeze-frame, and Stevens is just as surprised as the average viewer. The film ends with Stevens wandering around Chicago with his new girlfriend, with a new lease on life, and a brain filled with existential crises.
Source Code is a damned good movie. The "science" behind the titular time-travel conceit is insanely flimsy, so it's best just to roll with the premise rather than obsess over the minutia. That way lies madness. Besides, how many time-travel movies are particularly "realistic", anyway? Every single one of them has to pull their means of time travel right out of their screenwriter's ass. Just fucking roll with it, people!
The film's story is strong, with a group of well-rounded characters played by very capable actors. It manages to be at turns tense, heartwrenching, and surprisingly funny. The multiple trips through "the source code" are deftly handled, never feeling "samey". Man, I hate that word. I can't believe it's a real word. It feels like another "ain't" to me. But it's in the fucking dictionary. Sure, it's listed as "informal", but it's still in there. Screw it, I'll just say "similar". The numerous trips through "the source code" are deftly handled, never feeling too similar. That's better.
The only real problem I have with the film is Michelle Monaghan. She's a fine actress, to be sure. No problems on that front. My problem is superficial, really: when she smiles, she looks like a burn victim, like her face is a series of skin grafts. I don't know quite know how to describe it, but I find it somewhat off-putting. I've never heard anyone else comment on her face, so perhaps I'm alone on this. It's a nitpick.
My favorite moment in the film takes place late in the game, during Colter's last journey through "the source code". He borrows another passenger's phone and contacts his father, posing as a fictional soldier who served with the late Colter Stevens. My cynical eyes grew rather damp during this conversation.
Source Code is not a groundbreaking motion picture. But it's solid as a fucking rock. Thus far this year, I've seen only two films that I unabashedly adore: Drive Angry and Source Code. Director Duncan Jones is now two-for-two between this and Moon. I can't wait to see what he does next.
P.S. - I haven't seen any movies in the past few weeks, and there's really nothing coming soon that I want to see until Thor on May 6th. So I probably won't be yammering much on this lonely blog for a while.
There is something I am working on for the month of May, a big month-long celebration of something both I and my dear cousin Ky hold very dear. And May is right around the corner, so get ready to get your minds blown!
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