“Pontypool. Pontypool. Panty pool. Pont de Flaque. What does it mean? Well, Norman Mailer, he had an interesting theory that he used to explain the strange coincidences in the aftermath of the JFK assassination.”
-Pontypool…Pontypool…
“The movie is charmingly indebted to John Carpenter’s The Fog, whose DJ heroine played on through her own town’s invasion, but it’s much more sophisticated, better acted, and certainly more novel.”
-Tim Robey, The Telegraph
“In the bilingual province, it turns out the English language is infected, causing those who hear it to turn into monsters. Not a bad idea, but good lord is there a lot of talk - none of it as profound as director Bruce McDonald seems to think - with the ghoulies barely making an appearance. Too much jaw, not enough gore.”
-David Edwards, The Ticket
“If it wasn’t so boring, the dialogue would be a laugh a minute. The acting is so abominable that the cast is better off unmentioned. Like most Canadian movies (this is a rude generalization that I have learned, through time and experience, is worth making), it has no tension, meter or structure, and is utterly pointless.”
-Rex Reed, The New York Observer
“What constitutes this clever iteration of zombie virus and how it spreads is a sly satire on shock radio, on gossip, on The News itself. Gore fans hoping for buckets of blood will be disappointed; thoughtful horror fans who appreciate that a truly scary movie is mostly in your head will love it.”
-Mary Ann Johanson, Flick Filosopher
People have come to call “Pontypool” a zombie movie. But, in reality, it is so much more. Its seemingly simple premise—a zombie “virus” transmitted through language itself—is used as a framework for how we perceive the world. The power of communication is something we tend to take for granted; “Pontypool” paints a nightmarish scenario where that process of communication, so second-nature to us that we can’t imagine living without it, becomes the means of our destruction.
The film is set mostly in a radio studio in a small Canadian town. Immediately, we have an antithesis, a point of conflict between the characters’ setting and the plague about to befall it. As is the case with countless other movies of this vein, their channels of communication are soon cut off. The action centers around four characters; one cowboy hat-donning radio jockey, one beleaguered producer of his, one cute twenty-something Afghan veteran and local tech girl, and one obligatory movie scientist, a Dr. Mendez, who details the origins and nature of the virus.
The movie takes a while to get into the “meat” of the story, around thirty or forty minutes in before the characters finally realize the severity of their situation. The narrative is structured around suspense, and one of the basic shorthands of storytelling: “Less is more.” For the former half of the film, the most firsthand knowledge we receive of their threat are snippets outside the studio from the unofficial fifth character and eye-witness to the catastrophe, one “chopper” reporter Ken Loney, who ends up succumbing to the mindless hordes.
-Pontypool…Pontypool…
“The movie is charmingly indebted to John Carpenter’s The Fog, whose DJ heroine played on through her own town’s invasion, but it’s much more sophisticated, better acted, and certainly more novel.”
-Tim Robey, The Telegraph
“In the bilingual province, it turns out the English language is infected, causing those who hear it to turn into monsters. Not a bad idea, but good lord is there a lot of talk - none of it as profound as director Bruce McDonald seems to think - with the ghoulies barely making an appearance. Too much jaw, not enough gore.”
-David Edwards, The Ticket
“If it wasn’t so boring, the dialogue would be a laugh a minute. The acting is so abominable that the cast is better off unmentioned. Like most Canadian movies (this is a rude generalization that I have learned, through time and experience, is worth making), it has no tension, meter or structure, and is utterly pointless.”
-Rex Reed, The New York Observer
“What constitutes this clever iteration of zombie virus and how it spreads is a sly satire on shock radio, on gossip, on The News itself. Gore fans hoping for buckets of blood will be disappointed; thoughtful horror fans who appreciate that a truly scary movie is mostly in your head will love it.”
-Mary Ann Johanson, Flick Filosopher
People have come to call “Pontypool” a zombie movie. But, in reality, it is so much more. Its seemingly simple premise—a zombie “virus” transmitted through language itself—is used as a framework for how we perceive the world. The power of communication is something we tend to take for granted; “Pontypool” paints a nightmarish scenario where that process of communication, so second-nature to us that we can’t imagine living without it, becomes the means of our destruction.
The film is set mostly in a radio studio in a small Canadian town. Immediately, we have an antithesis, a point of conflict between the characters’ setting and the plague about to befall it. As is the case with countless other movies of this vein, their channels of communication are soon cut off. The action centers around four characters; one cowboy hat-donning radio jockey, one beleaguered producer of his, one cute twenty-something Afghan veteran and local tech girl, and one obligatory movie scientist, a Dr. Mendez, who details the origins and nature of the virus.
The movie takes a while to get into the “meat” of the story, around thirty or forty minutes in before the characters finally realize the severity of their situation. The narrative is structured around suspense, and one of the basic shorthands of storytelling: “Less is more.” For the former half of the film, the most firsthand knowledge we receive of their threat are snippets outside the studio from the unofficial fifth character and eye-witness to the catastrophe, one “chopper” reporter Ken Loney, who ends up succumbing to the mindless hordes.
The latter half finally drives home not only the reality of their situation, but also the futility of trying to inform the world of this situation. Because, by the time you have finished reading that last sentence, you will have already become one of them.
Most films (or at least, most of the good ones) would try to deconstruct their character archetypes, or the genre of film. This one deconstructs (or at least tries to deconstruct) basic concepts such as meaning and communication, the latter of which (specifically, its complete and utter breakdown) is already a staple in many a zombie film. Worse yet, by grasping any concept at all, one can fall victim to the worst nightmare of all, a fate worse than death, and horrifyingly enough, by understanding this concept, you, the viewer, open yourself up to the same fate.
In many ways, this film is the inverse of many zombie films as of late. Rather than simply getting their brains eaten or otherwise “turned off,” the monsters of the movie are actually formed via understanding. Rather than seeking communication to the outside world, our protagonists must seek to cut themselves off from the world. And rather than the young, Dawson’s Creek-type heroes we’ve seen in movies lately (I’m looking at you, Star Trek movie), the young’uns are shooed out about halfway through.
In this case, it’s all about communication, or the lack thereof. Our friendly radio D.J. (Stephen McHattie) is the little boy who cried wolf, and who never really stopped crying wolf once he “grew up.” His words are never to be taken at face value, and he is someone who looks for meanings within meanings. The producer (Lisa Houle) is constantly trying to keep him in check, calling him out on his antics and trying to push that nasty thing called “actual news” on him. The tech girl (Georgina Reilly) is able to communicate with our man in his radio booth via IM, and keeps them posted on the goings-on outside the studio. Finally, Dr. Mendez joins the main cast, actively trying to discourage them from communicating with the outside world in order to keep the plague from spreading. Ken Loney continues the male tradition of blanking out the studio with little more than static through his frantic, emotional breakdown of a running commentary once the actual zombie plague is introduced.
So, overall, is “Pontypool” a good movie? That depends on your definition of “good.” Is it a great movie? Again, depends on your definition of “great.” Is good great, or is good bad? Is bad good, or is bad worse? Is great goodness? Is great God? Is God good? Or is God worse? God is worse. Worse is worms, is a razor, is a sunny day, mosquitoes? Worse is worms. Or, worse is…what is worse?
Note: Worse is a deck. Worse is the deck, stacked against you. Worse is the number four. Worse is…worse is the deck. Worse is…it’s worse. Worse. Worse. It’s…worse. Worse. Worse. Worse. Worse. It’s…simply worse.
Most films (or at least, most of the good ones) would try to deconstruct their character archetypes, or the genre of film. This one deconstructs (or at least tries to deconstruct) basic concepts such as meaning and communication, the latter of which (specifically, its complete and utter breakdown) is already a staple in many a zombie film. Worse yet, by grasping any concept at all, one can fall victim to the worst nightmare of all, a fate worse than death, and horrifyingly enough, by understanding this concept, you, the viewer, open yourself up to the same fate.
In many ways, this film is the inverse of many zombie films as of late. Rather than simply getting their brains eaten or otherwise “turned off,” the monsters of the movie are actually formed via understanding. Rather than seeking communication to the outside world, our protagonists must seek to cut themselves off from the world. And rather than the young, Dawson’s Creek-type heroes we’ve seen in movies lately (I’m looking at you, Star Trek movie), the young’uns are shooed out about halfway through.
In this case, it’s all about communication, or the lack thereof. Our friendly radio D.J. (Stephen McHattie) is the little boy who cried wolf, and who never really stopped crying wolf once he “grew up.” His words are never to be taken at face value, and he is someone who looks for meanings within meanings. The producer (Lisa Houle) is constantly trying to keep him in check, calling him out on his antics and trying to push that nasty thing called “actual news” on him. The tech girl (Georgina Reilly) is able to communicate with our man in his radio booth via IM, and keeps them posted on the goings-on outside the studio. Finally, Dr. Mendez joins the main cast, actively trying to discourage them from communicating with the outside world in order to keep the plague from spreading. Ken Loney continues the male tradition of blanking out the studio with little more than static through his frantic, emotional breakdown of a running commentary once the actual zombie plague is introduced.
So, overall, is “Pontypool” a good movie? That depends on your definition of “good.” Is it a great movie? Again, depends on your definition of “great.” Is good great, or is good bad? Is bad good, or is bad worse? Is great goodness? Is great God? Is God good? Or is God worse? God is worse. Worse is worms, is a razor, is a sunny day, mosquitoes? Worse is worms. Or, worse is…what is worse?
Note: Worse is a deck. Worse is the deck, stacked against you. Worse is the number four. Worse is…worse is the deck. Worse is…it’s worse. Worse. Worse. It’s…worse. Worse. Worse. Worse. Worse. It’s…simply worse.
No comments:
Post a Comment