Truly classic science fiction works its magic on us because there is always something not so very “far out” about it.
Last month, retro space indie, “Moon,” landed in Denver. Its tale of mining, cloning and corporate shortcuts seems wholly within the realm of soon-to-be possibilities.
Now comes South African-born director Neill Blomkamp’s hurtling, visceral debut about alien refugees, humans and one poor mutating sod utterly out of his depth.
“District 9” has the distinct tang of a classic.
A rousing mashup of narrative styles (dynamically shot by Trent Opaloch), it begins like a documentary.
Talking heads recount the arrival of a massive alien ship above Johannesburg.
Sci-fi usually unfolds in a “near-future.” Blomkamp and co-writer Terri Tatchell situate us in the present and then tease us with a near-past back story.
It’s a brilliant salvo, the first of many.
It’s been 20 years since the spaceship stalled above South Africa’s largest city. Instead of catastrophe, came an uneasy waiting game.
Finally, the powers that be acted. An aid worker, a sociologist and a journalist recount the brief and tenuous history of the alien refugees disparagingly called “Prawn.”
Over the years, Earth’s natives have grown weary and increasingly hostile to the nonhumans.
The South African government outsources its alien problem to Multi- National United or MNU, a privately held company that sees and seizes an opportunity in relocating the refugee population. The aliens’ weapons are technologically advanced but also DNA-sensitive.
MNU bureaucrat Wikus van de Merwe embraces his promotion as the guy in charge of evicting the nonhumans from District 9 and relocating them to District 10.
Much goes wrong. Wikus is infected with alien DNA, which makes him both target and fast-mutating guinea pig. Events unfurl in a 72-hour span.
Much of the action takes place in the vast and segregated shantytown of the movie’s title.
Wikus is a fundamentally odd — and touching — figure to pin a movie on. He’s hardly a hero, anti- or otherwise. Sharlto Copley plays him as a painfully human doofus who has an impossible time doing the right thing.
Audiences do better rooting for Christopher Johnson and C.J., the ET father and son, who’ve worked tirelessly to return home.
Naturally, “District 9” invites riffs on South Africa’s discredited apartheid regime. (Born in South Africa, Blomkamp moved to Canada in his youth.)
Blomkamp inserts disquieting feed-style news footage of folk-on-the-street reactions to the refugees. A number of those interviewed are black South Africans. Discrimination is an equal opportunity shortcoming.
But the film is also about intracontinental politics. Nigerians in particular might be unhappy with their role as lawless marketeers exploiting the Prawns’ needs.
The leader of a Nigerian gang operating in District 9 is just as interested in the alien weaponry as MNU. Corruption comes not just from the lower rungs, but also from the upper tiers.
Blomkamp and co-writer Tatchell imagine a world in which full-on collapse isn’t the point.
Cruel, catastrophic situations coexist alongside nonstop media coverage and birthday parties. If that doesn’t sound familiar, the movie suggests, then you’re not paying heed.
“District 9” feels destined to become one of those moviemaking tales told to remind us all that the great can come out of a vexed situation. (Think “Jaws” and its malfunctioning mechanical shark).
Producer Peter Jackson and Blomkamp were on course to make a big-screen version of “Halo,” the ultra violent, hugely popular video game.
That project fell through. Now we have a film of engaging worth and a new writer-director worth tracking.
Forget Halo. That’s a better silver lining.
Film critic Lisa Kennedy: 303-954-1567 or lkennedy@denverpost.com; also on blogs.denverpostcom/madmoviegoer
“district 9.” *** 1/2
R for bloody violence and pervasive language. 1 hour, 53 minutes. Directed by Neill Blomkamp; written by Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell; photography by Trent Opaloch; starring, Sharlto Copley, David James, Jason Cope, Vanessa Haywood. Opens today at area theaters.
