Gravity, the non-Newtonian, film kind.

Before I start, note that this post will contain no spoilers for the film Gravity, at least nothing one couldn't glean from the trailers.

Also, please go see Gravity.

I remember the first time I saw a trailer for the film Gravity. I may as well have bought my ticket then, not just because of Clooney's beautiful almond complexion, but because of the space setting (for which I hold a strong fascination) and the seemingly incredible visuals. Then the end of trailer revealed certain 3-dimensional intentions...like 80% of movies nowadays. Despite rolling my eyes, I wasn't dissuaded from the prospect of seeing it; I figured a 2D version would also be available.

Though I wasn't completely opposed to seeing this in 3D...

The weekend it came out I was in Minneapolis and didn't have a chance to see it. Consequently, other people saw it before me, namely a film buff friend of mine who holds a notoriously cynical and blunt worldview. Thus I was taken aback when he told me to see Gravity in 3D. Like literally taken aback.

Let's take a minute to flesh out everything I loathe about 3D "films."

1.) 3D movie tickets cost more money.

--My inherent frugality steers me clear of any 3D version of a desirable film. The added "immersion" doesn't justify an extra $2+ from my wallet.

2.) 3D might be the biggest media gimmick in recent memory, a clear scam, and an annoying fad.

--I don't think it's any secret that slapping on 3D to a movie is a sure way to sell more tickets; certainly studios know this otherwise they wouldn't do it ALL THE EFFING TIME. It's a common misconception that 3D movies are expensive to make; it's actually pretty cheap to add 3D, relative to the increased revenues from doing so, only costing an average of 18% more in the budget. Adding 3D to a "film" is just an easy way for studios to increase revenue, because us lemmings buy in to the "immersion" factor.

Exhibits A, B, and C: Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience. Just a straight money grab if I've ever seen one.

3.), 4.), and 5.) 3D does not add to the movie-going experience, and actually detracts from it by giving you a headache. Also, wearing the glasses tints the picture slightly, making the film artificially dark.

--This is definitely my most subjective, opinionated reason for hating 3D, even though it's backed by research. On average, moviegoers claim 3D does not enhance the film and actually can cause discomfort in the form of a headache, though obviously some people will claim it does enhance it, otherwise how would 3D films make money?

I'll stop there. 

The only time 3D impressed me was the first time I actually saw a film in 3D -- the premiere of Avatar. It was 2009, I was a freshman in college, and all my dorm-hall friends had succumbed to the hype surrounding James Cameron's magnum opus, a film literally 15 years in the making. Slightly jaded towards mainstream movements as I was (as we learned in the last Harry Potter-themed post), I begrudgingly went along with my friends to the film, and attended it with a clear bias against it (which I regret in hindsight, as I strive to become less and less biased...even though my bias came true and the film itself was terrible).

But, it honestly was the most visually striking film I had ever seen. What Cameron's script (utterly) lacked in imagination, Pandora's flora, fauna, and landscapes more than made up for it. His colorful world came to life in 3D, seducing my optical nerves. Though reluctant to admit it to my friends immediately after the film, I had been immersed in Avatar.

This scene was particularly beautiful. I forget the context but will always remember the visuals.

Then every movie started using 3D and I actively avoided all of them.

Until Gravity. 

(Back to present day)

Shortly after hearing the recommendation for seeing Gravity in 3D, a couple friends and I shelled out the extra cash for some 3D tickets, donned our glasses, and were consequently captivated.

I'm no film expert, but I've seen my fair share and I can tell you that I don't think I've ever seen a film more perfectly paced with its action and intensity. Top notch directing and some the most gripping, white-knuckle scenes I have ever sweated through. Bullock had a rocky start but (my dislike for her hesitates to admit this) she finished with a wonderfully strong, emotionally charged performance. Clooney was beautiful, as always. His acting was pretty solid too.

But what really made the film for me was the sense of depth added through the 3D. Think about it: space is a vacuum, absent of gravity (aside from gravitational pull/orbit). Objects "float" in space, and when a force is acted upon an object, said object will "float" indefinitely into the abyssal expanse of stars and planets. The director used 3D to intimately convey this concept in an unprecedented way. Exploding debris flew past my eyes while the astronauts tumbled helplessly within frame, all the while that indifferent and stolid blue sphere pervades the background. These layered shots by the director make the viewer feel so close to the action and at the same time give him/her a sense of the infinite depth of space, heightening the "gravity" of each scene and thus eliciting even stronger emotions.

What's more, many pieces of the debris in the film have symbolic weight as they flutter passively around the wreckage. Peaceful shots focusing on these objects amid the shambling remains of shuttles and satellites evoke even more emotion when viewed in 3D.

My friend Ken said it better than I ever could: "The idea here is obviously that even high order cognitive processes (i.e. interpreting symbolism) can be enhanced by somewhat simplistic measures that target sensation. To be poetic, 3D helps to blend the visceral and the rational. More intense sensory experiences can lead to more intense perceptual/cognitive ones." More simply, he's saying that the use of 3D in this example enhances our sensory experience, which in turn enhances our brain's reaction to that sensory input, causing more neurons to fire and thus allowing us to have a more profound understanding of the emotions and symbolism within the film.

In summation, while viewing this film I obtained such an intimate feel for the vast expanse of space, which added to the emotions of despair and helplessness the film continually (and masterfully) instills in the viewer. When I wasn't holding my breath, I kept saying to myself,  This is how you use 3D.

Gravity turned out to be one of my favorite and most memorable moviegoing experiences of my life, and as a result I have definitely become less cynical of the use of 3D in movies -- though not by much. Again, my message for this blog lands on open-mindedness: I blatantly refute that Gravity would have been as awesome in 2D as it was in 3D, and I almost let my "refined" taste for film prevent me from fully experiencing -- in my opinion -- Alfonso Cuarón's best film (and he's made some good ones).

Seriously, go see Gravity, but see it in 3D...

...it's so good.

Thanks for reading.

Edited by Ken McGurran

A Lengthy Life Lesson, Taught By Harry Potter

I have finally done it. I have read Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling's imaginative epic, in its entirety.

And it took me way too long to do.

I remember when the Harry Potter craze first reared its enormous head like it was last year. Coincidentally, that year, 2002, was one of the most influential and crucially developmental years of my life. *Initiate sequence: LIFE STORY*

2002 marked the first year I would attend public school. I had been home schooled before, but my mom decided she wanted to start teaching again, thus I was enrolled in sixth grade at good ol' Valley Middle School. As fall approached, emotions like trepidation and excitement swap laps in my brain.

Public school meant having actual teachers with deadlines and homework and various classrooms scattered throughout the hallways of a vast school building. But more than that, public school meant trying to fit in. Even as an 11 year old, I remember having an acute sense of self-awareness, and all sorts of anxieties popped in my head, the most pressing being How would kids view me as a scrawny home schooler? My only solace, as it happened, was also my only good friend at the time -- a fellow home schooler who would also be new to the school. Logan had far more charisma than me though; he made friends like Nicholas Cage makes movies. I thought by sticking with him, I would be okay, we were in it together and we would survive together.

But he and I had zero classes together that first year. I was thrust into a foreign (and potentially hostile) land, surrounded by strange faces that displayed strange mannerisms and spoke with a strange lexicon. Sure, we had things in common, like sports, Spongebob Squarepants, and Dragonball Z, but I hadn't the faintest idea how to conduct myself in a way that would appear relatable, normal.

I slowly learned some social norms that first semester, and even made a few good friends (some of whom I am still friends with today). As Christmas approached, plans for a seasonal field trip to the movie theater came with it. We had the option between seeing Santa Clause 2 -- the sequel to the raucously delightful Santa Clause starring none other than Home Improvement's Tim Allen-- or we could go see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

If you've ever seen Tim Allen act, you'd know how hard of a decision that was for me.

Of course, I had heard of Harry by then, albeit by accident. My across-the-street neighbor, Trevor, was friends with another kid our age, Brett, and Trevor asked me one day as we were hanging out if he was alone in thinking that Brett bore a striking resemblance to Harry Potter with his glasses on. I gaped at him, confused and unsure how to respond. An awkward pause later, I simply asked, "Who's that?" with a furrowed brow. It was their turn to gape.

They told me all about the books and the movies and the general magic surrounding that unlikely hero.

I shrugged it off at the time. I wasn't much of a reader growing up and I never really engrossed myself in anything other than football and Super Smash Brothers. Having grown up so closely to my brother, who is three years older than me, I feel I aged with him, matured before many kids my age. This premature maturation (does that even make sense?) left me indifferent to juvenile fads, which is how I saw this Harry Potter character. All that talk of spells and wizards and monsters sounded like trivial, outlandish child's play (bear in mind I was unnaturally arrogant for an 11 year old which added to this sense of superiority). Looking back, I think I thought I was above Harry Potter, like a kid who no longer believed in Santa Clause (not the Tim Allen Santa Clause, that I could totally believe in). I scoffed at those foolish enough to buy in to such rubbish.

I also think part of that indifference had to do with my inherent tendency to avoid mainstream fads, not unlike a present day hipster. If something was already huge, I didn't want to be a part of it. This extended to Pop Music (Brittney Spears, Blink-182, etc.), Pokémon/Yu-Gi-Oh, even khaki shorts (I wore exclusively Jorts in middle school). I wanted to pioneer a fad, not jump in after everyone else knew about it, and, again, I think this was partially due to my pride.

So, unsurprisingly, I was one of the few students who chose to watch Tim Allen over Harry Potter. And I grew up remaining ignorant of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Looney Lovegood, The Dark Lord, and all the mystery, misadventures, and magic that followed them.

I wholeheartedly regret this ignorance.

In college I met a host of new people, many of which gave me that same gaping looking Brett and Trevor did all those years ago when I said I neither watched nor read anything Harry Potter. After hundreds of recommendations, I started teasing the idea of delving into the novels at long last, but I was sidetracked with school, other novels (e.g. A Song of Ice and Fire, which I would recommend to anyone), and life.

Then, this past August I decided to embark on a roadtrip to L.A. with my friend, Aaron. The drive down would take 26 hours, and I anticipated I wouldn't have enough music or topics of conversation with which to sustain my sanity for such a long trip. Thus, I started looking for books I might listen to. After a short time thinking, my mind fell to the elusive Harry Potter series, something I knew would be an easy, engaging, and entertaining listen that would help while the hours away.

L.A. was pretty sweet btw.

At first, I listened to the books as a cynical adult (Aaron and I share a tendency for scrutiny and sarcastic humor, so his presence enabled this). We criticized, nitpicked, looked for inconsistencies and flaws, tweeted our misgivings, but despite this hardened approach I still felt a sense of enchantment hang around me every time the narrator illustrated the scenes and characters. There was just something about that world Rowling crafted that drew me in, seduced me off of my high horse and served me a warm and inviting drink that made me smile after every sip.

By the third book, I stopped criticizing and instead allowed myself to jump in fully to the magical universe. I became a kid again. I tore through the books, reading each more fervently and relentlessly than the last. Sure they were flawed, leaving a wake of unanswered questions, but I was all in, man, head over heels, truly immersed. This was exactly the kind of series I would have enjoyed as a teen, I knew: action packed, shrouded in mystery, riddled with riddles and puzzles, and accurately portraying the inexplicable complexity of teenage love.

And when I finished reading the last words, I felt that inevitable sense of gleeful remorse that accompanies the end, that troubling yet comfortable sense of finality one feels after completing any worthwhile book series, but the emotion was so much more palpable and poignant than usual. Regret washed over me, wave upon crashing wave. Why hadn't I read these as a kid? What would my life have been like had I done so? How might I have changed, whom might I have befriended, how many Potter Lego sets might I have purchased? I kept feeling like I had missed out on something truly special, something rare that only my generation could fully appreciate and experience to the greatest extent because it started with us and because it ended with us -- because it was written for us.

But I refused that gift, I shoved it aside in my pride. In doing so, in closing the gates of my mind to that world of magic, I think I robbed myself of a once-in-a-generation opportunity, and my childhood was less bright because of it.

This realization has taught me most lengthy life lesson to date: Don't let pride prevent you from opportunity. Don't shut your mind on things that seem different. Don't not do something just because you don't think you'll like it. Because that thing, that opportunity, it might just change your life for the better.

I think our boy, Alby, said it best (not Albus, the other one, Albert).

"The mind that opens to a new idea never returns to its original size."
                                                       --Albert Einstein

Keep your mind open, everyone; you will undoubtedly be better off if you do.


Edited by Ken McGurran