Jaws in the Age of Covid-19

In 1975 a director by the name of Steven Spielberg, a man at that point with only two feature films and a few shorts to his name, premiered his latest film- an adaptation of a novel by Peter Benchley. After a notoriously difficult production, audiences were shocked to see a frightening tale of a killer shark. Its title made it clear what to expect: Jaws, obviously in reference to the deadly jaws of the great white shark who serves as its main antagonist. The film was an astounding success, and made a massive impact commercially and critically. The John Williams score alone has developed a long-standing association with any depictions of deep sea threats. Audiences were so shocked by the frightening creature that the film provoked a wave of anti-shark sentiments that even made the author of the original book regret its existence.

Many film scholars have identified the astounding success of Jaws as marking the end of the so-called "New Hollywood" period that began in the late 1960's with the end of the American Studio System. Jaws is sometimes known as the first real "blockbuster" as it unwittingly inspired major film studios to adopt a business model that is still in use today.

And we can certainly see the influence of its financial success in various subsequent films- which included three sequels as well as numerous b-films revolving around humans fighting aquatic monsters. The idea of a disaster film revolving around sharks isn't that unusual either. Certainly the popularity of films like Sharknado (2013) owe something to the success of Jaws.

The idea of humans faced with danger posed by an abnormal underwater predator was hardly new even in 1975. Over a century earlier Herman Melville had written the novel Moby Dick. In the novel, Moby Dick was a sperm whale notorious for his proficiency at killing whalers who tried to hunt him. He is pursued by Captain Ahab, a whaling captain who becomes increasingly obsessed with hunting down the "white whale," ultimately dooming himself and all but one of his crew. In fact the influence of Moby Dick is clearly visible in the second half of Jaws, with the character of Quint (Robert Shaw) acting as a sort of modern day Ahab whose growing obsession with catching the shark ultimately leads to his demise.

But my main interest in this discussion is less so the film itself, or the impact it has made on film in general, but rather its relation to our current social circumstances, and how a film made 45 years ago is weirdly relevant under new circumstances. Like the citizens of Amity, we have our own shark to deal with- at least figuratively speaking. Our shark is a pandemic. The Carona Virus, also known as Covid-19, is currently posing a major global threat. Social Distancing is a necessary measure, but instead of acting responsibly, the issue has become politicised in the United States. President Donald Trump has displayed an uncanny inability to respond to the virus, putting his political goals first.

While many people remember the second half of Jaws, which actually sees Brody, Hooper, and Quint pursuing the shark, the first half is particularly disturbing in light of current events. The central conflict concerns Brody and Hooper trying to respond to the presence of an unusually large shark that has been known to target humans in the water, which is complicated by the presence of the town's mayor Larry Vaughn, a politician who uses his media connections and authority to overrule the two men. Within minutes of finding out that a swimmer was killed by a shark bite, Brody is trying to close the beach, only to be immediately blocked by Vaughn, who insists that the beaches need to stay open because the town is an attractive spot for tourists.

A lot of people remember the roles of Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfus, and Robert Shaw (who doesn't even become a prominent figure until the second half), but Vaughn is just as important. In many ways he behaves as a very Trump-like figure of authority. He may have even taken inspiration from Donald Trump, a man already notorious when Jaws entered production. Vaughn can be most easily described as a charismatic politician who acts like he knows what he is doing but in reality is putting his own interests above those of the people he is meant to be leading.

The opening scene of Jaws famously shows a young woman swimming out in the dark only to be attacked and killed by the shark whose presence will drive the rest of the film. But while it's presence is constantly felt, the shark isn't even seen during the first half, its presence only signalled by the occasional POV shot and the iconic score by John Williams. It's not until the second half that we actually get to see the shark, and even then we only see it when it is visible to the characters (its presence at other moments being signalled by an increasing number of floating barrels). Much of the plot instead concerns its human characters and how they react to the shark's presence, rather than the shark itself.

This has the peculiar effect of making the shark a much more enigmatic entity compared to its more obvious human characters. The shark itself actually does not do all that much in the film. The people it kills are mostly background characters- we never really get to know Chrissy or Alex Kitner before their demise, and even less so the unnamed man in the rowboat who is eaten by the shark later on. The only central character to actually be killed by the shark is Quint, and that only happens at the very end. If anything, the key players are never really in danger during the first half as they are never actually in the water.

Instead, while the shark is legitimate cause for concern, there is a much more dangerous threat in the form of Mayor Vaughn, who proves far more dangerous than the shark itself. Much of the film could have been averted if it were not for his presence. Had the beaches been closed as Brody repeatedly tried to do, the shark would have eventually left on its own due to a lack of food. The Mayor is the key obstacle.

After receiving the coroner's report that swimmer Chrissy Watkins (Susan Blaklinie) was killed in a shark attack, Brody immediately begins taking action. When he learns that there are not any "beach closed" signs he actually goes to the local hardware story, picks up materials, and has his staff begin making signs. No sooner has he done this than he is approached by Mayor Larry Vaughn, who quickly tries to overrule him. Suddenly the coroner (presumably through bribery, coercion, or a combination thereof) is saying it was a boating accident and not a shark, an alternate story the Mayor eagerly jumps onto to justify keeping the beaches open.

In fact the Mayor tries to outright discredit Brody, claiming he just made a mistake caused by not being familiar with the town. His reasoning is simply that they are a popular destination for tourists because of their beaches and tourists bring in money. This is disturbingly reminiscent of Donald Trump's resistance to social distancing. Like Vaughn, Trump continually insists on opposing potential safety measures. Why? Because opening businesses is good for the economy, showing no concern for people who might be endangered by doing so.

As if this wasn't enough, we have even had the problem of politicians making the questionable decision to keep beaches open during Covid-19, in spite of the obvious risks. While the reasons why they should be closed may be different (in real life, it is because crowds that normally form on beaches would produce favorable conditions for the virus to spread, rather than a shark in the water), the issue of politicising a life-threatening situation and putting people's lives at risk for the sake of money seems alarmingly familiar.

Vaughn manages to keep the beaches open, and sure enough the shark arrives. The first instance he tried to cover up, but the second happens in front of an entire crowd of witnesses, and results in the deaths of both a dog and a child. When a town meeting is called, Brody declares that the beach is going to be closed, only for Vaughn to suddenly add that it will only be closed for twenty-four hours. When Brody points out that he never agreed to that he is ignored, and finds himself ignored further when he tries to state that he has called for an expert. The culminates in the introduction of Quint, a fisherman who offers to kill shark for a price. For all his faults (as noted later) Quint is an experienced fisherman who has dealt with sharks before, and has knowledge and skills that could be put to use. But his offer is ignored by the Mayor simply for being too expensive.

The parallels only start become clearer when shark researcher Matt Hooper arrives. He examines Chrissy's remains and immediately determines that it was indeed a shark bite that killed her, and reacts in shock when Brody reveals that the town has failed to notify the coast guard or perform any sensible counter measures, which the viewer will know is thanks to the actions of the Mayor. When Vaughn is first introduced to Hooper, he more or less ignores him. They shake hands, but the whole time Vaughn's attention is elsewhere. 

Vaughn spends much of the film completely ignoring Hooper. When a bunch of fisherman claim to have caught the shark, Vaughn latches right onto it, ignoring the fact that Hooper has multiple reasons to doubt that they indeed got the right one. Of particular note is Vaughn outright refusing to let Hooper perform a test that could be used to confirm whether the shark that was caught was indeed the same one that killed Chrissy and Alex. No matter how much Hooper protests the Mayor only gives excuses.

Certainly this refusal to listen to an expert is reminiscent of Trump's efforts to ignore the CDC. Recently he even went the extra step of trying to bypass the CDC all together by ordering hospitals to report directly to Washington. One of the key voices of reason at the moment, Anthony Fauci, has been a frequent target for Trump, who has routinely tried to discredit him the same way Mayor Vaugn tries to discredit both Brody and Hooper. 

And worse still, two deaths is not enough to pursuade Vaughn to listen to any kind of reason. He keeps insisting on keeping the beaches open, because the Fourth of July is an especially popular holiday for tourists. This is even after Brody and Hooper confirm that the shark is indeed still a threat. He quickly seizes any opportunity he can to doubt their claims, pointing to Hooper dropping a shark's tooth as proof of their unreliability. He even tries to deflect blame by pointing to a sign that has been vandalised (probably by someone fed up of the Mayor's crap) and demanding Brody instead focus on catching the graffiti artist. 

When Hooper makes a last attempt to pursuade Vaughn, pointing out that the proportions of the shark in the vandalised sign are actually pretty accurate, he is met with "you'd like to prove that, wouldn't you?", as though the Mayor sees anything that challenges his political agenda as a conspiracy against him. Not unlike Trump's habit of making assertions and dismissing anything contradicting them as being part of the "radical left wing's" agenda or "fake news." Once again the beaches remain open, despite clear evidence that they should not be, because it's good for the economy. A politician prioritises his public image and money over the lives of the people he is mean to be leading.

So once again, after being warned about the dangers of keeping the beach open, Mayor Vaughn keeps it open for tourists. But he manages to go one step further. After blocking any effort to close the beach or get rid of the shark, he has Brody and Hooper reduced to conducting patrols on boats in the surrounding waters, a move that is conspicuously insufficient for tracking and catching a large shark that is likely to strike from under the water. 

But at first things go okay. People are able to enjoy themselves on the beach, but knowledge of the shark has made sure they stay out of the water, seemingly an okay compromise. But of course the Mayor decides to intervene and make it worse. He approaches one family on the beach, and actually pressures them to go into the water. Once one family is seen going in, others start to follow, until a large number of tourists are splashing in the water and making themselves very good targets for a hungry shark, all while Vaughn cheerfully brags to the press about how the situation has been resolved. 

Like just about every decision Vaughn makes throughout the movie, his decision to force people into the water turns out to have some serious consequences. It ends up creating a panic that actually diverts attention away from the shark. The ominous presence of a shark fin results in the crowd panicking and running back onto the shore, only for the police to find that it was a prank orchestrated by two children. It's not until after this scuffle is over that the shark is spotted in seemingly isolated area where it manages to eat one man and nearly kills Brody's son. 

Just like Vaughn, Donald Trump has failed to properly address the Covid-19 disaster. We can see him jumping on partial or just plain false information, leading outrageous claims being presented as facts, such as the assertion that drinking bleach will cure the virus. Just as Vaughn tries to encourage people to swim in water occupied by a giant shark, Donald Trump has openly resisted measures that could help contain the virus, and discouraged  his supporters from wearing masks that could help reduce the spread of the virus.

But while he might be the most obvious parallel, Mayor Larry Vaughn is not the only link to our current circumstances. I am far from the first person to notice the resemblance. A simple Google Search will quickly reveal a variety of headlines comparing Vaughn to Trump. There is even a quote from British Prime Minister Boris Johnson (a conservative often compared to Trump) that claimed Vaughn was the "real hero" of Jaws. Yes, someone actually thinks the guy who got three people killed by ignoring a serious danger for the sake of money was a hero. But while there are other parallels of note.

Trump himself has made a lot of questionable decisions, but he also has a number of supporters who eagerly take in what he says and try to take matters into their own hands, often making the situation worse. As a simple example, the astonishing number of Trump supporters who have protested against masks. The problem with this, obviously, is that the reason for rules about wearing masks during a pandemic is to stop the spread of the virus. But some people, acting on misinformation, fear, and complete disregard to anything experts have to say, end up making the problem worse.

Just like anti-mask protesters in real life, Mayor Vaughn also inspires people in his town to act irrationally and foolishly. We see this at the Town Meeting, which starts with one of the Mayor's counsel joking about the bounty on the shark that just killed a child, which actually gets a laugh from some members of the crowd, indicating that not everyone is taking the problem seriously. But it gets worse when a woman in the audience (which includes several local business owners) asks if the beaches will be closed. When Brody says they are, he is met with a disapproving groan from the audience, presumably because they are more worried about how it will affect their jobs. Not unlike anti-mask protesters who put their own interests over much bigger problems.

But things go further when residents of the town come up with some poorly-thought out methods of trying to catch the shark. Two men sneak onto a pier and try to catch the shark using a chain, which almost gets them killed. The next day, several groups launch their own witch hunts against the shark in the hopes of claiming the 3,000 dollar bounty, people who disregard safety protocols and ignore Brody when he tries to point out their mistakes. We then get a parade of boats going out and tossing dynamite into the harbor, before coming back with a random shark that is just assumed to be the correct one. 

We then get a big moment of the shark being put on display by the fishermen who caught it. Their ignorance is exposed when one asks what kind of shark, and Hooper (a shark expert) points out that it is a tiger shark, to which one of the fisherman simply responds with "A what?" A crowd gathers around the shark, with the press eagerly jumping on and a photographer trying to compose a shot, all of which ignores Hooper when he finds reason to question if they actually have the right shark. The fishermen dismiss his measurements of the shark's bite radius and he is yelled at to clear out of the way before his investigation is finished. This easily calls to mind the Trump-supporting Americans who refuse to follow instructions and refuse to listen to experts, endangering themselves and others by refusing to wear masks in public.

Finally, I'd like to talk about Quint as a similarly problematic figure in the second half. While the Mayor's dismissal of his offer in the earlier town hall scene easily feels like he is ignoring an expert, Quint himself has issues that ultimately prove detrimental to dealing with the shark. Notably, he puts profit above actually helping others. Although he is not entirely unjustified in being reluctant to risk his life pursuing the shark, he demands an increase in pay from the initial $3,000 bounty already being offered. Some of his claims about the shark are also somewhat exaggerated, such as claiming it will "swallow you whole." While he has knowledge of sharks, certainly more than most people in the town, his behaviour leaves one to wonder if he is really the best choice.

After the initial town hall scene, Quint is more or less forgotten until about halfway through the film. He might have disappeared all together if not for the Mayor's interference. It is only by desperation that Quint is even permitted to take part. Brody resorts to hiring Quint after his own son was nearly attacked by the shark, this being after three people have already been killed by it and the Mayor consistently blocking any reasonable response. Had the beaches just been closed at the start Quint would never have needed to be involved.

Once Quint is finally brought onboard he frequently runs into conflict with Brody and Hooper. One of the first things we see when the boat leaves is Quint sitting in a chair while the other two men are visibly working hard. He goes on to pull out an oversized fishing rod that he thinks has successfully caught the shark, even after Hooper quickly figures out it is probably something much smaller- we never get to find out exactly what as Quint's stubbornness results in the rod being broken. Later on, he gets everyone drunk leaving them vulnerable when the shark manages to attack the boat.

When they do finally encounter the shark, Brody speaks the famous line "we're going to need a bigger boat." Sure, on its own it makes a good dramatic line, but it actually comes up a few times. After saying this line, Brody attempts twice to emphasise the point to Quint. He's not just making a remark about the shark's size, he is legitimately realising that a bigger boat will be needed to take on this shark, an observation that is ignored by Quint. He even tries to convince Quint to just use the radio to call for someone to bring a bigger boat,  bot his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Quint is too proud a man to show weakness. As the hunt continues it becomes increasingly clear that he wants to be the one to kill the shark. This also explains his refusal to get a bigger boat, doing so would, at least in his mind, show that he is incapable of catching the shark. That would be a weakness. This aspect of him is foreshadowed back in his introductory scene, where he openly refuses to take on any crew members and insists on going alone because "there are too many captains on this island." He even resists taking along Brody and Hooper at first.

This also proves to be a series of very poor decisions as, like the Mayor in the first half, Quint ignores the advice of others and, unsuprisingly, it backfires on him. There was a reason Brody wanted to call for a bigger boat- because he quickly figured out that using the one they had was going to put them in unnecessary danger and wouldn't be sufficient for fighting the shark. Sure enough, when the shark is provoked it manages to destroy and sink the boat. Quint even goes a few steps farther during the final confrontation by destroying the radio when Brody tries to call for help, putting them in even greater danger. Quint's insistence on being the one to kill the shark ends up being the very thing that results in him getting eaten, much like Ahab being dragged down by his white whale.

Now unfortunately, this same problem can be seen in the American government's reaction to Covid-19, perhaps most obviously in Trump but also in his supporters. Like Quint, Trump is afraid to show weakness. He doesn't like to be wrong, but he also wants to be the one to address problems. Trump has claimed to respond to the pandemic while obviously making the situation worse, just as Quint is ostensibly killing the shark but ultimately just makes things more dangerous for him and his crewmates. Trump ignores advice that contradicts his view, and refuses to do things that he think will make him look weaker, just as Quint refuses to get a bigger boat when it is obviously needed. Like Quint destroying the radio that could have saved his life, Trump opposes actions that could help contain the spread of a deadly virus.

For a film that came out 45 years earlier made by people who could not have known about the outbreak of Covid-19, the parallels are astonishing. Jaws suddenly feels extremely relevant to our current situation in this day and age, maybe even moreso than it did when it first came out. While the filmmakers obviously could not have known about what would happen in 2020, what this shows is that the political climate of today is nothing new. The problem of a life-threatening situation becoming the subject of political controversy is one that may have existed long before, but perhaps only now has been fully exposed.

To Be a Free Man: Understanding the Futility of Freedom in Half-Life

The full Half-Life series currently comprises two main games, a series of expansions to the first installment, and two episodes continuing the story of the second game. The gameplay is fairly simple, focusing on a mix of first-person shooter action and problem-solving that usually require the player character to get from once place to another while avoiding obstacles and enemies.

In the first game, the player assumes the role of Gordon Freeman, a scientist newly hired at the Black Mesa laboratory. Shortly after his arrival, an experiment goes wrong causing a resonance cascade that results in the laboratory being infested by aliens from another dimension. Gordon then finds himself battling through both aliens and marines sent to cover up the disaster eventually travelling to the dimension of Xen where he defeats the nihilanth (the apparent "boss alien"). Half-Life 2 picks up twenty years later, where the world has been taken over by a ruthless alien race known as the Combine, and Gordon Freeman becomes the leader of a revolution.

But this is where the situation gets more complicated. The themes of freedom and liberation are hardly subtle. It's even reflected in the protagonist's name: Gordon FREEman. Yet the irony is that Gordon Freeman, the so-called "One Free Man" is never truly free. He is constantly subordinated to someone or something in what seems to be a never-ending chain of command. Throughout the series, Gordon Freeman is constantly under the thumb of a mysterious figure of authority. The true identity of this unnamed man remains a mystery still debated among fans of the games. Numerous fan theories exist to explain his apparently metaphysical presence, and the uncertainty of whether he's even human.

However, the identity of this character, known in the community as "G-Man" (derived from his filename) is ultimately not as important as what he represents to the world of Half-Life. Whoever this guy is is ultimately irrelevant. What matters is that he is the puppet master behind Gordon Freeman. Whatever his endgoals are, and for better or worse, he displays a firm investment in Freeman's activities and appears to be working toward specific outcomes (even if to what end remains unclear). Throughout both Half-Life and Half-Life 2 G-Man makes routine cameos where he appears to be observing Gordon, or otherwise taking an interest in the setting. Both games also see G-Man congratulating Gordon for his efforts, implying that the player did indeed produce G-Man's desired outcome.

At the end of Half-Life, G-Man appears to offer Gordon a "job opportunity," yet the game implies that this is not a choice on Gordon's part. G-Man appears to consider Gordon a valuable asset for reasons unclear and wants to make use of him again, and subsequently puts him into stasis until the events of Half-Life 2. In that game, G-Man once again awakens Gordon, only to once again suspend him in stasis as the film's conclusion after, once again, Gordon has produced the desired outcome. G-Man has essentially enslaved Gordon and is treating him like one might a tool, literally the same way one might treat a hammer or a screwdriver. Gordon is taken out when he is needed, but when he is no longer useful he is placed back into stasis, a sort of "toolbox" where he is stored until such a time as he is needed again.

This adds a peculiar irony to the events of Half-Life 2, where Gordon is drawn into the resistance against the oppressive Combine. He becomes a beacon of freedom towards everyone. The vortigaunts, once enslaved by the antagonists of the first game, now happily aid Freeman. By the end of the game resistance members eagerly follow him and place their trust in his leadership. But is this really freedom? Or are we only seeing a transition from one handler to another?

As the player already knows, Gordon is trapped under the thumb of G-Man, with no clear means of escape (this is accomplished in Half-Life 2: Episode 1, but G-Man's reaction suggests this is little more than a temporary setback). And yet the vortigaunts are calling him the "One Free Man," a moniker the player knows to be false. In short, Gordon Freeman, the leader of the freedom fighters is himself under the control of someone else, only he is given strings that can be seen by nobody else.

The futility of Gordon's efforts at freedom is further reinforced by the decision of Valve to treat him as a silent protagonist. Throughout the series Gordon never speaks a single word, not even so much as a grunt. The series is also experienced in the first-person- Gordon's face is only ever seen on the game boxes and posters. This deprives Gordon the chance to express himself in any meaningful way. By keeping him from speaking, Gordon is unable to share his thoughts or opinions on any issue. The first-person perspective prevents him from emoting. This is also fitting as there is another dimension to his character.

G-Man is not the only one manipulating Gordon. He is also being controlled more directly by someone else- the player. Every action Gordon performs is up to the player. Gordon's movements are based on the actions of a figure who, within the diegesis, shouldn't even exist. As a silent protagonist whose story is seen in the first person, he never gets a chance to properly share any independent thought, personality, or emotions. They are whatever the player decides them to be. So even when Gordon is released from G-Man's grip by the vortigaunts, he is never released from the player's.

Furthermore, in addition to the players, Gordon's path and actions are dictated by the game's writers and developers. His movements are controlled by an entity he doesn't know exists, and his story is scripted. Freeman is therefore perhaps the least free of all the cast of Half-Life, without so much as a means to share or even indicate any real independent thought. Gordon is a puppet on three different fronts, and he can only recognize the strings of one of his puppet masters. He is about as far from a "free man" as can be imagined.

And yet, the contradiction of the so-called "Free Man" and his constant imprisonment is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the themes of control. While Gordon Freeman is indeed being manipulated by forces he can't control, he also has puppets of his own in the form of his apparent allies. Part way through Half-Life 2 one of the Vortigaunts provides Gordon a means of controlling the antlions (a hive-minded race of insectoid aliens) by harvesting Pheropods. As a result, the antlions become Gordon's personal army.

Now the puppet has become a puppeteer. The antlions under Gordon's control blindly follow his orders, taking on enemies and being ready to get themselves killed on mass just to protect Gordon. Just as Gordon cannot see that he is being controlled by the player, now the antlions become his unwitting servants, fighting and dying for him all while being unable to see or even comprehend the strings that are manipulating them.

Once Gordon reaches the levels Anticitizen One and Follow Freeman, the antlions are replaced by human resistance members. "Hey everybody," the rebels yell as they join him, "Follow Freeman!" These are freedom fighters, driven by a desire to end the oppression of the Combine and liberate humanity, but in fact they are now Gordon's servants. He can instruct them on where to go, when to hold position, when to follow, and they obey his orders.

These people are devoting themselves to following Freeman, meaning they are in fact becoming his puppets. Just as Freeman is being manipulated by G-Man, now he manipulates the resistance. The only difference is that the resistance can't see that they're being controlled, and that they are not truly free.

And yet this is only what is seen through the perspective of Freeman himself. Let us shift our perspective for a moment and consider the character of the so-called "G-Man." We never do find out exactly who he is or what his intentions are, beyond that he seems to have an investment in Gordon's success and the implication that he may not be entirely human. He is even shown to be able to freeze time itself. It is obvious that G-Man is a powerful figure, perhaps moreso than even Gordon could begin to understand. When he is not directly obverving Freeman, he is seen interacting with other characters in ambiguous conversations. The expansion Opposing Force even implies that G-Man was the one who sent the marines into Black Mesa. This would seem to suggest he is a boss figure of some sort, the man in control of everything...

Except that is not in fact what he is. He may appear this way as far as any human is concerned, but one important detail is G-Man's references to his "employers." Who G-Man works for is an even bigger mystery than the man himself, but it is clear that he is working for someone. This is not some all-powerful being manipulating everything for his own personal gain, but an agent or employee acting on behalf of an even bigger party, someone so high up that we have no idea who they even are. This means that G-Man may in fact have no more control over anything that goes on than Gordon himself, and his actions are mainly conducted to suit the needs of his unknown employers.

This does leave an interesting question to think about. If G-Man is himself being controlled by someone else, whoever they are, is that party also being controlled by someone else? Is this simply a never-ending chain of command, servants controlling servants who control servants? This appears to be the case when one examines Gordon's enemies. In the first game, Freeman is battling a mix of aliens and U.S. Marines. In the second, he is mainly fighting his way through the Combine forces, with a particular emphasis on their human propaganda master Wallace Breen.

Breen is an interesting case study given his status as the "face" of the dystopian world established in Half-Life 2. In keeping with its not-so-subtle Orwellian influence, Breen takes on the role of a "big-brother"-like figure who regularly appears on screens to deliver messages encouraging City 17's residents to be compliant and submit to the Combine authority. Among the city's residents he is a figure of resentment and a symbol of the Combine's oppression. The man basically sold out humanity when the combine first arrived (though this proved the only way to ensure humanity's survival). As a result he has practically enslaved the entire human race, enjoying the privileges of his role as administrator while trying to comfort everyone else with exaggerated claims about the supposed long-term benefits of Combine rule (even referring to them on-camera as "Our Benefactors").

But Breen is himself little more than a puppet for the Combine. His job is simply to go along with whatever they desire and find some way to present it to the human population as a positive move. Under Breen's direction, it is implied that humans are stripped of everything that makes them individuals to turn them into the ruthless metro police and and the soldiers who routinely work to stop Gordon Freeman, but they are ultimately serving the Combine, not Breen. Breen is only a tool used by the Combine to subjugate humanity. He is ultimately using his position of authority to work toward their interests. Once again we a puppet, albeit a puppet who also has puppets of his own.

Curiously, in Half-Life 2: Episode 1 we see the screens once again being used, this time by Dr. Isaac Kleiner. This comes after the revolution started in the previous game, after Breen has been deposed from his position as administrator for humanity. Kleiner instead takes up a suspiciously similar role, even if he is now speaking on behalf of the resistance. We hear him instructing humanity on what to do, and how they should feel about the Combine recognizing them as "malefactors" (echoing Breen's referring to them as "Our Benefactors" throughout Half-Life 2). He even begins providing instructions for any humans who aren't in immediate danger to begin reproducing to re-establish the human race. It leaves us to wonder: is anything really changed? Has the resistance made things better or are we only replacing one authoritarian regime with another?

Likewise, in Half-Life both groups of antagonists are acting on behalf of other authorities. The marines who arrive to cover up the Black Mesa incident are themselves implied to be manipulated by G-Man. They are only acting under orders, not even fully understanding why they have been deployed or to what end they are working. They are only acting under orders, not out of any malevolence to Black Mesa, on a mission that appears to have been meticulously planned by someone well above their level of command.

The aliens that invade Black Mesa have been enslaved by a creature called the Nihilanth, a peculiar telepathic entity that rules the dimension of Xen. The Nihilinth serves as the primary antagonist and ultimately the final boss. But it ultimately turns out that the whole reason the aliens were in Xen to begin with was because they had themselves been enslaved by the Combine (the primary antagonists of the second game). The enslaved had now become the slaver.

Furthermore, the Vortigaunts find themselves in a peculiar position. They were previously enslaved by the Nihilinth until it was defeated by Gordon. This leads to the Vortigaunts developing a particular respect for Freeman, to the point where he takes on an almost messianic quality in their view. They become extremely loyal and willing to do almost anything for the person they have come to know as "The Free Man" (who, as we have established, is not in fact free in any sense). Throughout Half-Life 2 and its episodes the Vortigaunts provide Freeman with various services. This suggests that Gordon did not in fact liberate the Vortigaunts, but that he merely replaced the Nihilanth as their master while they unknowingly continue to be controlled by their own blind loyalty.

Given these patterns, one is left to wonder about the Combine, who at first seemed to be brutal imperialists interested only in domination. We never do find out just who or what runs the full empire, something only alluded to by the transmission sent in Half-Life 2: Episode 1, but what we have seen of the other characters suggests some interesting questions about what might be found if the series had continue or were to be revived. Is it not possible that, given what we've seen, the oppression and brutality exerted by the Combine forces is in fact because they themselves are being controlled by something else?

At the end of the day, we are left with a simple question: what is freedom? What does it mean to be free? Can one ever be truly free or do they just change controllers? These are the questions which the series constantly wrestles. Their answer? Freedom is an abstract concept constructed in our minds, one for which we constantly feel we must strive towards and yet can never truly attain. True freedom is impossible. The closest one can get is the illusion of freedom brought on by strings they cannot see. Everyone is locked in a series of endless chains of command- servants controlling servants controlling servants, in an inter-tangled web of manipulation and control.

In Your Head, Zombie, Zombie, Zombie

Zombies seem to be all the rage right now. Right now there is not one, but two extremely popular mainstream television programs still in their prime to feature zombies. The first is of course The Walking Dead, with the zombies walkers that are a constant danger and usually make a point of showing it by killing off four or five regular characters a season, but we also can't forget about the "white walkers" that have become such a big deal in Game of Thrones.

That's just our most recent output, that's not even getting into the various movies or literature or anything along those lines. We even got a zombie love story in Warm Bodies. While the term "zombie" in its current usage is a fairly recent development, the concept of malevolent reanimated corpses is a very old one that dates back centuries. Numerous movies incorporated what we would call zombies long before they became a thing.

One of the most famous literary sources would arguably be Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (and by extension all of the movies based adapted from it). H.P. Lovecraft also wrote a parody of that story titled Herbert West: Re-Animator which was later made into a cult film series. Both stories centered around the premise of a brilliant scientist who manages to scientifically figure out a method of reanimating dead tissue.

The results of Victor Frankenstein's was a hideous creature known as "the monster" who while not entirely unsympathetic (the narrative makes it clear that he is really just confused, and all he really wants is a friend) ends up killing a number of people and terrifying several others. West's on the other hand, might be a bit more closer to the zombies we know today in that they do have a fondness for human flesh. Fittingly while Frankenstein was ultimately granted a dignified death West's fate was to be disemboweled alive, and to add a layer of unease the zombies just kind of... disappear, with nobody being certain of what happened to them.

The concept of zombies as we know them today is usually said to have originated with George A. Romero's 1968 Night of the Living Dead. He never actually set out to create a movie with zombies, Romero just thought that reanimated corpses who try to eat the living was an interesting premise for a horror film. It was only when the press began applying the term "zombie" Romero decided to run with it and subsequently created a whole bunch of zombie-themed films like Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Land of the Dead, etc. Something about this whole idea seemed to really catch on.

So what is this fascination with the undead? Why do we get so much joy out of watching decent people get torn to shreds by living human cadavers. Well, with any zombie-related story, mortality is going to be a major theme. In a show like The Walking Dead, the presence of the zombies are a constant reminder that nobody is ever truly safe. Even for those who aren't actually killed by zombies, they constantly remind us of the simple fact that everybody dies eventually.

No matter how much you run, or what you do to survive, you will eventually meet your end one way or another. In addition, one thing that elevates zombies above other creatures is the fact that they were once people and that can be seen clearly. Mowing down numerous zombies at once might not seem so bad... until you're faced with that one zombie who was once a very good friend of yours. This was a situation faced multiple times by the cast of The Walking Dead and it is not a pretty one to be put in.

Alternatively it is very painful when someone close to you gets bit and you know there is no way to save them. The only options are to either shoot them dead right there or let them transform, neither of which seem like a pleasant choice. This is something is a recurring theme on The Walking Dead, and though its major characters are not killed off anywhere near as often, it could also be said of Game of Thrones' white walkers. Even Shaun of the Dead played this aspect of the zombies completely straight despite being a spoof.

What I do find amusing about zombie films is the fact that they often go out of their way to avoid using the term "zombie". It's led to this ironic situation where zombies are such a horror icon that so many works try to avoid seeming generic by using the term "zombie" that trying to find an alternative nickname has become something of a cliché in itself. The Walking Dead has several different names for the zombies, though the most common is of course "walkers" (which is ironic because in the comics, they just use say "zombie"). I've always found this a bit odd. After all, if an actual zombie apocalypse happened, wouldn't you just say "zombie" because you would immediately associate them with modern pop culture.

Shaun of the Dead even memorably poked fun at the whole idea (among other zombie movie conventions) of how you can't just call the obvious zombies... well... zombies. Nick Frost's character Ed keeps using that term early on only to be met with Shaun yelling "WE'RE NOT USING THAT WORD!" No particular reason is given and they never even find an alternative nickname. The only reason they can't say the word "zombie" is because they are in a zombie film.

There is a formula of sorts that seems to have long been common in zombie movies. Shaun of the Dead made fun of it, but it goes back as far as Romero's own Night of the Living Dead. The way it essentially works is this: the zombie apocalypse starts, usually taking the main characters by surprise. They find an empty structure of some sort where they try to bunker down. However, things go wrong, and gradually most if not all are killed off by the time its all done.

A variety of different environments have been used over the years, ranging from the abandoned farmhouse of Night of the Living Dead to the shopping malls used in both versions of Dawn of the Dead to the Winchester pub of Shaun of the Dead to even the prison in The Walking Dead. As with many stories, this is likely because claustrophobia when used right is a very good source of horror. To be trapped in any environment, especially a familiar one that normally seems safe like a house or a mall, are still dangerous. It all ties into that theme that ultimately nowhere is truly safe. Even a prison isn't a perfect hiding spot (even if you can keep the fences from being pushed by hoards of zombies, it won't save you when your enemy shows up with a tank).

Zombies have come in many different sorts over the years, often in relation to the time period in which the work was originally made. The classical zombies are the ones which move very slowly (i.e. those of Romero). A lot of people have poke fun at this convention, since they move so slowly you just have to run really fast to get away. At least, that is a way to avoid one. Two, maybe, but as the numbers go up they're going to be much harder to run away from. Fittingly, Night of the Living Dead was made in 1968, at the height of the Cold War, and in a way the zombies are allegories for the fear of communism. One zombie is not a serious threat, with every person "infected" it gets much worse. Remember, all it takes is one bite and you become one of them.

The more modern zombies are a bit different. Unlike classical zombies, these ones will move a lot faster, so just one is enough to worry about. The trouble is you'll be more likely to have to face at least fifty at a time. This is more in keeping with modern social anxieties, such as the fear of terrorism, something that is generally intended to take everyone by surprise long after it is too late to stop.

Regardless of whether we use the name, zombies have been, still are, and will likely remain a popular choice for horror stories. There is something about the whole concept of a zombie apocalypse that continues to fascinate the human mind. Zombies are a source of fear for a variety of reasons, and when used right can be a very effective source of horror.

When is a Film a Product of its Time?

I still stand by my claim that this is a better boxing film than Raging Bull

When you run a blog like mine, you sometimes have to deal with angry comments. There are definitely a few areas where I've made some controversial remarks, and it's not surprising that I may have struck a few nerves along the way.

I have yet to hear any angry comments from fans of Tarkovsky's Solaris criticizing me for saying that the remake with George Clooney was better, or even any of Godard's fans accusing me of being an idiot for saying that Alphaville had the most pathetic vision of the future ever put on film and that he is a horrible director.

Where I have gotten lots of feedback, however, is with regards to my comments on James Bond. The article Why do People Like James Bond? was only my fourth published article on this blog and yet it still remains the most popular. Apparently controversy sells, and I've certainly gotten plenty of that.

I've found a handful of people who agree with my stance that the James Bond franchise is sexist, others who see where I'm coming from but who try to enjoy the films anyway, and the die hard fans who stubbornly try to defend it. Believe me in this business there is nothing more frustrating than trying to explain to a die hard fan why the Bond franchise is sexist, because no matter what points you make they will just repeat the same arguments, fling insults at you, and at best completely miss the point of what you're trying to say.

I've already had one person try to defend the rape scene in Goldfinger by saying that it wasn't presented as a rape scene as if that somehow made it okay (that's exactly the point, they were trying to make a horrible act look charming). I've also had someone try to break it down and argue it wasn't a rape scene, and then demand that I explain how it was (Bond forces a woman to have sex with him, I'm pretty sure that's the basic definition of rape). I've also had idiots who have stubbornly tried to deny the allegations I have made, instead opting to fling insults at me and claim that my statements about the Bond franchise have no basis and that I'm the idiot.

This is the hero, everybody, and people still try to defend him.

Now, for the more civilized fans I have argued with, there are two big rebuttals I've heard against my comments. The first is "Bond is supposed to be the ideal male fantasy", and the second is that "it's a product of its time." There is a slight problem here, and I'd say that these arguments actually conflict with one another, but we'll get to the specifics of why later on.

Just what does it mean for something to be "a product or its time"? Well, in my experience, that usually means quite simply that the work in question was made at a time when people saw the world much differently from today. In particular it usually implies that people had different ethical standards at that particular point in time: something considered acceptable back then is repulsive by modern standards and vice versa.

So to provide a straight forward example, blackface (a white actor donning obviously fake makeup to play a black character) was considered perfectly acceptable in early 20th century filmmaking, but try doing it today and you'll get into a lot of trouble. The only occasions you might be able to get away with it is either in parody or in a period piece set at the point in time, and even then it might be difficult.

By contrast, as I have discussed previously, there was a time when movies were not allowed to so much as acknowledge the existence of homosexuality. While it's still a controversial subject, the regulations aren't as strictly enforced and movies are no longer bound by a strict code, which has allowed some filmmakers to depict it. If you tried to make a movie like Brokeback Mountain, Blue is the Warmest Colour, or Mulholland Drive during the Studio Era, you'd be shot down within seconds of pitching the script.

Even if you did somehow manage to convince the studio, you'd have to change the ending. Imagine a version of Brokeback Mountain which ends with Ennis "learning his lesson" and being "cured" of being gay. It certainly wouldn't be the same movie. In fact the obviously homophobic tone would be incredibly offensive nowadays. At the same time, the ending actually used in the film would have outraged audiences during the studio era.

Now, considering we are slowly evolving from a centuries-old society that until fairly recently was rooted in misogyny, racism, slavery, homophobia, and lots of other horrible things, it's not surprising you sometimes have to understand that when looking at material from certain points in time. That's not to mean you should outright ignore anything that seems offensive, just understand that's it's only that way nowadays. 

In some cases you can take on the slightly more optimistic approach, understanding the negative stuff but finding one little positive aspect to consider. H.P. Lovecraft is a great example: on the one hand he was an extreme racist, on the other he supported woman's rights. His opinions could be seen as extremely progressive or horrendously dated depending on which side you look from.

Looking at this angle in a cinematic sense, you can find plenty of examples. Conquest of Space seems to imply that female astronauts don't exist. That's not a very pleasant image nowadays, but on the other the one Japanese astronaut is depicted as a competent professional and more or less equal to the otherwise all-white cast, not bad for a film released in 1955.

The key word here is understanding how people saw things back then. It's likely that they couldn't have seen where their society would go. After all if they had there wouldn't be so many science fiction movies that imagine the perspective of the 1950's still holding up in the distant future. To them, that's just the way things were. There was never any intent to offend. Conquest of Space wasn't trying to be sexist in its vision of the future, it's just that in the male-dominated society of the time, the thought of women being astronauts probably just never crossed the minds of the filmmakers.

That's the thing with a lot of works that are "products of their time". Shakespeare probably didn't write The Taming of the Shrew with the intent of creating something extremely sexist. He was writing at a time when it was literally illegal for women to even perform in the theater, after all, and stories like that were quite popular, so he probably just never considered the implications of his narrative. 

Same deal goes for Birth of a Nation, which D.W. Griffith never consciously intended to be racist. He even tried to redeem himself when he found out precisely the implications of his movie. This would be a film where you'd have to take into account the circumstances surrounding its production, but what if we came back to James Bond? Is Bond a product of its time?

Well, according to a lot of the die hard fans, yes. They insist you have to put yourself in the shoes of the time period to appreciate the films (at least, assuming these aren't the kind of fans who will try to outright deny the existence of any offensive content in the franchise). However, as I said before, there is the argument that Bond is supposed to be the "male fantasy". 

First off, I don't know how many men in the 1960's actually fantasized about doing the kind of stuff Bond did, but when you get down to it, the argument is justifying the Connery films being sexist. To bring it into some simpler terms: the films were intended to be that way. The writers consciously wrote their scripts knowing full well that they were extremely misogynistic, but made no effort to do anything about it.

So which one is it? You can't have it both ways. These are the two biggest arguments I get and they essentially cancel each other out. To be a "product of its time", the work can't have been made with the intent of being offensive. The artist wasn't consciously trying to be sexist, racist, or homophobic, they just didn't know any better due to the standards of the world they lived in. 

However, according to this argument, Connery's Bond films were consciously intended to be sexist, so I'm sorry but that argument can't help you. Bond is not "a product of its time" but rather the product of misogynistic screenwriters who knew very well what they were doing and made no effort to fix it. To me, that's even more offensive.

Is Lovecraft Unfilmable?

I've heard this discussion a lot and so I thought I would take the time and attempt to address this question. There have been plenty of attempts to film the stories of H.P. Lovecraft, most of which are either critically panned or hotly contested. Dean Stockwell has already starred in two hated adaptations of The Dunwhich Horror and Del Toro has been trying to get his screen treatment of At the Mountains of Madness off the ground for years. I mean even I've written my own screenplay version of the same story and I think it's turned out alright.

But perhaps I should start at the beginning. For those of you not familiar with his work, H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) was an American writer best known for his influence on the horror genre. He primarily did short stories, most if not all of which are now public domain and thus can be found online for free (this website has a pretty good collection of his texts), and while he might not have been famous during his lifetime his influence on the horror genre cannot be denied. This man has been a huge inspiration behind some of the biggest names in contemporary horror, including John Carpenter and Stephen King.

The controversy regarding whether his work can be filmed comes from the style his writing is known for. Many of his stories are based on the philosophy that mankind is an insignificant part of a vastly uncaring universe. He believed that humanity was little more than a spec of dust in the grand scheme of things, and that there were horrors out there beyond our wildest imagination that could destroy us in a second, and that we were doomed by our own insignificance. The thing is, his opinion wasn't so much that these things were evil (the only truly evil being in his works is one who is quite fascinated with humanity) so much as they were indifferent.

The analogy that often gets used is that these creatures see us the same way we'd see bugs on the sidewalk. However, many of these creatures are so mind-shatteringly beyond our range of understanding that they are literally indescribable, sometimes to the point that merely glimpsing them is a enough to drive a person to complete and utter madness. This is where the controversy comes in. How do you film something that is indescribable? So is Lovecraft unfilmmable?

Well, no. He may be difficult to film, but not impossible as we can see by the fact that there are some well-done Lovecraft adaptations. The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society has so far made two low-budget but surprisingly faithful adaptations of his stories: The Call of Cthulhu and The Whisperer in Darkness. The latter in particular goes in a few different directions from the original novella on which its based (in particular it adds in a whole third act that wasn't originally there), but it still manages to remain true to Lovecraft's themes and preserved the bleak atmosphere of his work rather effectively. In fact a few of the twists and turns were actually legitimately terrifying, particularly the unsettling reveal at the end which I won't spoil.

However, many of the films that seem to be better received are the ones that aren't necessarily based on Lovecraft so much as inspired by him. There's a ton of films that have been slotted into this category including Carpenter's The Thing and Prince of Darkness, but the best example would be the third and final installment of his "Apocalypse Trilogy" In the Mouth of Madness. This was a film that he admitted was one great big tribute to Lovecraft, not based on any particular story but trying to create the same sort of atmosphere and full of references to his stories.

The thing is, you can't really generalize Lovecraft as "unfilmable". The best approach I can take is to look more at individual narratives, because not all of them involved "indescribable" horrors. The way I see it, it really depends on the story you're looking at. Some actually lend themselves quite nicely to film, while others might be much harder to do (though not necessarily impossible). Let me bring up two examples to illustrate this point.

Though we have yet to see it made into a film, whether it be my version or Del Toro's (or both), one can't deny that At the Mountains of Madness has some cinematic potential. The story, which centers around an Antarctic expedition discovering an ancient alien city, lends itself to some incredible images. Considering it's the Antarctic there's lots of room for great landscape shots and even more room for lots of fascinating images with regards to the city itself, all the buildings and their bizarre hieroglyphs and any artifacts we might see within.

There isn't much action but with all the curiosity surrounding the ruins there doesn't need to be, especially with that chase scene at the end. The shoggoth itself might be a bit harder to pull off, regardless of whether we use practical effects or CGI, but I think it could still be done with a little bit of creativity. The Elder-Things on the other hand wouldn't be so hard, especially considering we never see them move.

To bring up a contrast, why don't we shift focus to Lovecraft's short story The Colour Out of Space (which ironically several people have attempted to film). The story is simple enough: a mysterious meteor lands in a farm and brings with it some sort of... thing (it's so alien that "a colour" is the best way anyone can identify it) which gradually begins destroying everything and the animals begin to whither and die, and it begins to affect the minds of the family living there until nothing is left.

It's a very depressing story, and at first glance one that could work as a film. The problem is figuring out how to depict the Colour. In the original story the colour is described as being one outside of the visible spectrum, a color that has literally never been seen on Earth. Good luck finding a special effects team that can pull that off. Even Douglas Trumbull couldn't do it. Now I won't say it's impossible to effectively adapt, since I have heard of people trying it anyway (one way I've heard suggested would be to get around the problem by shooting in black and white), but since it's impossible to create what Lovecraft described it's certainly going to be difficult.

So really in the long run you can't generalize Lovecraft as "unfilmable" or otherwise. In fact there are several stories of his that involve simpler monsters, some of which have already been filmed. The aforementioned The Whisperer in Darkness is one example, but one film adaptation with a cult following is Re-Animator (basically a mad scientist creates a fluid that reanimates dead tissue which results in all kinds of chaos; yes, Lovecraft basically wrote a story about zombies).

The Shadow Over Innsmouth is another one that could potentially work as a film, since the only monsters to actually appear are the Deep Ones (weird fish/frog-like creatures that live in the ocean) and the funny-looking inhabitants of Innsmouth. Funnily enough, this has been done by the same director as Re-Animator under the title of Dagon. In fact Stuart Gordon has made something of a career out of adapting Lovecraft stories as he's also done From Beyond and The Dreams in the With House.

That last one there is another interesting one to consider. The Dreams in the Witch-House was a very surreal story centered around a young student of Miskatonic University (an institution that pops up a lot in Lovecraft's stories) who looking for a place to stay decides out of curiosity to move into an old boarding house that is said to be haunted by the ghost of the witch who once lived there. What follows is a weird sequence of events in which every night he has dreams in which first a creature named "Brown Jenkin" (imagine a rat with a human head) approaches his bed and then he is seemingly transported around the universe.

As the story develops the line between dream and reality start to blur, and it all builds up to a horrifying conclusion. You know who'd be perfect to try adapting this story? David Lynch. Who better to take on a piece like this than the guy known for creating subjective and mind-blogging narratives? I don't know about you but I think David Lynch's The Dreams in the Witch-House could be something amazing.

There is one story that stands out in my mind, however, as one that I don't think I'd call "unfilmmable" in any sense of the word. It has no sanity-shattering indescribable monsters. In fact it doesn't really have any monsters at all, but a very human antagonist. I am of course talking about The Thing on the Doorstep.

There's really only three major characters (okay, technically four, but it's complicated), and it's also the only Lovecraft story to have a significant female character (well... sort of), although for the purposes of a film adaptation you could flesh out some of the minor roles that were only referred to in the book (the families of some of the characters, for instance), but the plot centers around a strange mystery that involves a creepy "wizard" (Lovecraft was usually under the mindset that the "supernatural" was just the best way we could describe science that was too far above our level of understanding) who swaps bodies with other people, usually against their will.

The one time you would need to apply some special effects would be for... well... the Thing on the Doorstep. For those of you who haven't read the story I won't spoil it by telling you just what that thing is, but believe me when I say when you find out at the very end what it is (or more accurately, was) you're going to be frightened to think about it. I don't know about you but I do think this particular one could be a very chilling movie if put in the right hands.

So ultimately is Lovecraft unfilmable? Well, no. Difficult, maybe. Specific stories of his, perhaps, but in general it is not impossible to make a good movie from his writing.  It has been done before and in the right hands there are stories of his that could make excellent films. Then again, in the right hands perhaps any of his stories, even the ones with the "indescribable" monsters, could still be made into an excellent film.

Buddy Cop Movies and Why they are So Popular

This is a genre that has been around for a long time. I can't even begin to go into its full history, but the basic formula is one that has endured at least since the 1980's: A police officer is assigned to his (it's almost always a guy) latest case, during which time he is also given a new partner (often but not always another cop or other law enforcement). Said partner is completely the opposite to him in terms of personality; usually one is more uptight and by the book while the other is more reckless and wild. Naturally the two can't stand each other but they're forced to work together anyway and by the time they've solved the case they are best friends.

It is a simple enough formula, and one that can be taken in plenty of directions storywise (exactly what the case is for example, varies widely between films). There are still patterns that are typically common. For instance, the two "buddy cops" are almost always men. Aside from a one or two exceptions, any female characters present in the story are usually a supporting role such as a love interest for one of them. I have yet to find a buddy cop film where the pairing is between a man and a woman.

That said, the combinations vary widely. Usually you have the dynamic of the uptight professional cop and the reckless wild one, but for a while it became popular with films such as Lethal Weapon to pair up a white guy and a black guy. With Hot Fuzz you have the cop who is so good at his job that he embarrasses everyone around him and the cop who at first has no idea what he's doing. The Canadian film Bon Cop, Bad Cop takes the basic formula but instead pairs together an English-speaking cop from Toronto with a French-speaking Quebecois officer. In a subversion of my earlier comment about how the "buddy cops" are usually men, we recently got The Heat, where the same formula is replicated but this time with both partners being women.

Then we get into weirder combinations. The infamous movie Cop and ½ sees poor Burt Reynolds forced to team up with a kid to track down the bad guys. Osmosis Jones does this kind of story but instead uses the setting of the human body, with a the "buddy cops" being a white blood cell and a cold pill who team up to track down a lethal virus. What I said earlier about having yet to find a pairing between a man and a woman might not be entirely true if you count Theodore Rex, which has the odd pairing of Whoopi Goldberg and a talking dinosaur. Yes, that actually happened.

So what is it that makes this genre so popular? Part of it might be just the creative combinations that different writers can come up (even if at times they get really weird or outright stupid), but a major part of the buddy cop film is in how the two main characters play off of each other. Naturally there's usually lots of action but it may just be that there is something emotional to be found about two conflicting characters who otherwise might have had nothing to do with each other bonding together over a crime, to the point where they often end with both partners getting together to solve another crime.  

In this case, unlike perhaps a regular police-based narrative, such as the old TV series Columbo, the conflict and tension becomes more in how the two "buddy cops" have to figure out how to put aside their differences and work together to solve the crime moreso than the crime itself (although the crooks involved certainly don't help matters). After ;all while the investigation plays a major role in the story, the plots of both Hot Fuzz and The Heat were driven largely by the relationship between the two leads and how they gradually warm up to each other so they can finally take on the bad guys during the climax. The genre is a bit of a cliché now, but really the key to making a good "Buddy Cop" film is simply to have two leads who can really play off of each other.