Movie review: "Civil War"

(From Lasken's Log)

As I watched Civil War I had the recurring thought: "This is stupid."  And yet I did not walk out, as I sometimes do.  Why not?

The characters look and speak like contemporary Americans, but the politics is fiction.  The US has broken into factions that are at war with each other, but there is no mention of MAGA or left and right wings.  Instead, there are coalitions between states, unexplained and sometimes improbable- like California joined with Texas.  The federal government is isolated and besieged, with the President barricaded in the White House, trying to organize supportive factions against the "Secessionists," who are not identified.

The protagonists are improbable too.  They are war photographers obsessed with getting as close to the carnage and pain as possible, looking for that one great, career building "shot."  They are improbable because they are cast as heroic, implying that what they are doing is good or helpful, an idea which, like the politics of the story, is not explained. The group of four war photographers- led by a very stern Kirsten Dunst- travels through dangerous territories on their way to the White House, where they plan to interview the President, a feckless, desperate man who makes empty, slogan filled speeches.

There is one indicator of xenophobic ideology in the story, when a rural militant asks a prisoner where he is from.  The man replies, "Hong Kong."  The militant replies, "China!" and shoots him.  To my many Hong Kong readers I ask: Are there people in the world who do not want us to mingle and find commonality?  It would seem so.

Now I need to fill in a unique element of this movie- going experience: My desert companion Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster was tucked into my partially zipped jacket, watching the movie with me.  Readers will recall the disaster that unfolded the last time I took Robert to a movie with me (see below, Harold Pinter through the eyes of a gila monster), when Robert, an unusually opinionated reptile, went wild with movie criticism, exposing his presence to other theater-goers and necessitating our hasty retreat.  Robert, who monitors my thoughts several times a day, gathered that I planned to see Civil War and begged me to give him another chance, promising that if I did he would remain silent throughout the film, communicating with me- provided it was important- via telepathy only (for new readers: I am one of about 5,000 human telepaths in the world.  All gila monsters are telepathic, however they consider telepathy with creatures beyond their species an abhorrent perversion.  As you'll see below, Robert has been exiled from his clan for being a pervert.  I take some of the blame).

Not surprisingly, Robert did not obey my stricture against constant intrusion of his thoughts during the film.  The rest of this post consists of my mental interchanges with Robert.

Robert (after about 20 minutes of scenes showing people tortured or blown apart): Jeez, what is it with your species?  No wonder you took over the world.

Me: Robert, please don't start with your superior species routine.  Look at yourselves: Gila monsters don't love.

Robert: Yes they do, you just can't see it.  All you see is a male gila monster sticking it in, then sprinting away to the next gig, while the female gazes into the distance thinking,"Hm, it's a nice morning."  But you forget, gilas are telepathic.  That male is sprinting away, but an orgasmic, love laden telepathic orgasm flames between him and his love, and it lasts for hours.  Eat your heart out!

Me: Robert, I am trying to follow this movie, and you are making that difficult.

Robert: Why?  Are you afraid you'll miss some critical plot element, like why does the cute girl need to get two feet from the face of the man coughing up blood to take ten pictures of it?  I don't think that's going to be explained, Harry.

Me: Ok, well, not to totally disparage my species, but I'll admit that sometimes I get an involuntary kick out of the violence in movies like this, especially things blowing up; I'm not so much into gore and pain.

Robert: There you go, Harry!  Humans like explosions.  Every time you see something blowing up in space you get excited.  You love that our sun is itself an atomic bomb going off.  So different from gilas.

Me: What are gilas like?

Robert: We're just chicken.  Explosions do not thrill us at all.  That's why we live in the desert; it's nice and quiet out here

 Me: Then why did you want to see this movie

Robert: It's part of my study of your species.

Me: I see. What have you learned so far?

Robert: This movie reenforces my view that humans are drawn to matter breaking apart, to fission, to, as it were, destruction.

Me: Why would we be that way?  What's the evolutionary advantage?

Robert: You get sustenance from the juices emerging between atoms as they're ripped apart, and you must take your juices where you can.  Humanity was born prematurely, expelled from the womb too soon, and the world has been a confusing threat to you ever since.  You fight the world because it fights you.

Me: Robert, should I start a religion where you sit on my shoulder and I speak your holy words?

Robert: Hey, it's your life.

Me: One last question: What do you think humans should do about their situation?

Robert: Like I would know.

I apologize to readers who were hoping for more enlightenment from this post.  Actually, I thought Robert's reply was enlightened enough.  Maybe Robert and I could start a sect whose spiritual message would be, "We don't know."  That's certainly the message I got from this movie.

For more Harry the Human, go to http://harrythehuman.harrythehumanpoliticalthoughtsfrombeyondthepale.com/