[	Tags	|	a sort of homecoming	]
[	Current Mood	|	energetic	]

A Sort of Homecoming

Chapter 2

Apres Moi

( Thirty six hours ago, she'd been happy )  

[	Tags	|	flash, free crap monday	]
[	Current Mood	|	discontent	]

   'Tess?  I'm Alan.'

   She smiled, held a hand out.  'We spoke on the phone.  You have a sick Airfish?'

   He winced.  'Yes.  It's…if you could just come with me.'

   He turned and led her across the open plan office.  The calendar plant on the reception desk rustled contentedly as she stroked one of its leaves and, above her head, the room's Airfish circled happily. 

   The corner office he led her to was nothing but windows and the view, the buildings framed by smog below and blue sky was carefully designed to reinforce the company's power, to intimidate visitors.  Tess ignored it, heading straight for the AirFish.

   'Oh look at you…how long has it been like this?'  Sheclimbed onto the table and began guiding the Airfish to a stop.  Its tubular body was swollen and red and as Tess cradled it, Alan could see its skin was peeling.

   'How long has it been like this?'

   'About a week.'

   'And no one said anything?'

   'I wanted to call earlier.  My boss said to leave it.'

   The Airfish's circular ribs were beginning to spasm and for a moment Alan was worried it was going to be sick.  'She…uh…she said it didn't matter enough.'

   'It always matters enough.'  She was running her hands down it's body now, checking each lump, each bone.  'Fetch me my bag, please.'

   Alan handed it to her and she picked out a collapsible sack, carefully guiding it over the Airfish's head.  She motioned to Alan to help and he held the creature in place, its body warm and muscular.  As Tess fitted the bag over its length and sealed it, he suddenly realised what she was doing.

   'Wait that's airtight, it'll kill it.'

   Tess ignored him, instead hooking a small oxygen bottle to a nozzle in the bag.  'Off we go then.'

   'We?'

   She slid off the table, cradling the four foot long creature in her arms and flashed him a wolfish smile.  'How else am I going to get to the roof?'

   Tess barged past him as the doors opened.  She ran to the edge of the building, dropped to her knees, opened the bag and the Airfish tumbled out and down in a graceless heap.

   'Why!?'

   'Why are Airfish always hungry, Alan?'

   'I don't ca-'

   'Because they're born pregnant.'  As she spoke, a shower of silver flashed upwards.  The Airfish and a hundred tiny young danced and turned in the sunlight, their sleek cylindrical forms turning and dancing in the light.  Spellbound, Alan didn't notice Tess step closer to him. 

Her hand closed around his as the Airfish swarm broke around them and dived straight down into the ocean of smog.  When she poke again, it was barely a whisper.   'One day, Alan, one day they're going to give us back the sky.' 

[	Tags	|	big screen future, dark city	]
[	Current Mood	|	groggy	]

   There are a thousand stories in the naked city, and each one of them will be lived by it's inhabitants over and over again.  The mean streets shift and warp, names change, streets change but the Shell Beach Express never changes and the Shell Beach Express never stops.  Welcome to Dark City, leave everything at the door.  Including yourself.

   Regardless, the world that Murdoch and Schrieber inhabit, essentially alone, is one straight out of nightmare, a World's Fair that's curdled and stagnated leaving a trail of empty automats and narrow streets behind it.  Proyas lets himself run wild as buildings sprout like plants, staircases expand and at one point Murdoch escapes the Strangers on a rapidly growing chimney.  The world is a stage and Murdoch and Schrieber are the only two actors who've seen a script.  Even Richard O'Brien's Mr Hand, the Stranger who takes on Murdoch's memories to find him can't fit in here, his fake memories too real, too enticing to be ignored and yet built, like everything else in the city, on sand.

[	Tags	|	big screen future	]
[	Current Mood	|	relieved	]

   There are times when high art is everything, where the discussion and exploration of ideas and character lies at the heart of a great story.  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Changeling, Gone Baby Gone and countless other classic films take this approach and it's one of the big reasons for their success.

   And sometimes, you just need giant mutant animals.

   Dean Devlin, Roland Emmerich's long-term producing and writing partner co-produced this and it's interesting to note that a writer who has such a clear love for old fashioned SF would champion a project like this.  Small scale where his previous work was epic in scope, it's oddly similar to both Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow.  All three films hark back to an earlier set of traditions and all three cut the reverence they clearly have for those traditions with modern sensibilities.  Independence Day has a clear social conscience, The Day After Tomorrow balances environmentalism and political cynicism with waves of super-chilled air that can be outrun, and Eight Legged Freaks has a jet black sense of humor, a cheerfully nasty streak and hundreds of massive spiders.

   The plot is a neatly handled combination of comedy and horror, following Chris McCormack as he returns to his hometown and his father's long abandoned mine.  Everything about Chris screams 'tortured hero' from his goatee to the Americana rock playing as he steps off the bus.  What really makes the character, though, is the fact he's played by David Arquette.  Arquette is at his best in roles like this, the American everyman who is so earnest, so sweet, so committed that you almost miss the twinkle in his eye.  He gets the joke and understands that for us to get the joke, he has to pretend he doesn't, an unusually complicated piece of acting for what should be a relatively simple film.

   He's surrounded by one of the best supporting casts the field has seen so far this century.  Kari Wuhrer is effortlessly good as the local Sherriff, balancing her at times impossible good looks with the same sense of humor as Arquette and a physicality that harks back to Ripley, Sarah Connor and Buffy.  If anything, she's the next stage of the process begun by those three women, a lead character who is female instead of a female lead character, any hint of agenda or drum beating lost in the skitter and giggle of the spider horde as they sweep across the town.

   Scott Terra, as her son Mike, is one of the best and least well known child actors in the field, bringing a self-deprecating intellect and humour to the role.  Likewise, Scarlett Johannsen as Sam's daughter Ashley, is completely invested in her role, her intelligence and wit shining through here as it would in The Prestige and much of her later work.

   It's in the next tier down that the film really shines though.  Rick Overton as Pete, Sam's deputy, genre stalwart Leon Rippy as the town's would be tycoon Wade and the magnificent Doug E. Doug as Harlon, the local conspiracy nut DJ, are comedy gold almost every moment they're on screen.  Overton is a wonderful, luckless hang-dog figure who sells many of the film's goofiest moments effortlessly whilst Rippy's self-righteous and self-deluded businessman is a great foil for Arquette's two-fisted hero.  It's Doug though that steals every one of his scenes.  Proud, self righteous, articulate and charmingly paranoid, Harlan tops and tails the film, utterly vindicated by the town's nightmare and making sure no one will forget it in a hurry.

   But, of course, the real stars are the spiders.  Massively enhanced by a chemical spill (what else) they set up shop in Chris' old mine.  Jumpers, trap door spiders and a dozen other species leap and lumber through the film with a malicious joy not seen since the Gremlins movies.  The film makes no bones about the lunacy of its premise and even imbues the spiders with definite personalities, squealing with terror, giggling and in one wonderful moment, stalking one of the town's distinctly grumpy old barbers by creeping up behind him in a tent.  They're physically imposing, a constant and real threat and at the same time never once take themselves seriously.  These are giant, chemically enhanced monsters that enjoy their work and that's just not something you see every day.

   Co-written by US TV veteran Jesse Alexander and Ellory Elkayem, who also directed, Eight Legged Freaks is a modern B-movie in the best possible way.  There are no surprises in the plot, there is no brave new narrative ground broken and if there were, it would be a much less entertaining film.  As it stands, Eight Legged Freaks can stand with Tremors and Slither as proof that, much like the chemical and radiation enhanced monsters that lie at its core, the B-movie will never quite die.  And, for all the horror the spiders bring with them, that can only be a good thing.