During the 132 minutes of Pacific Rim I failed to have a single thought - not always a bad thing

Director Guillermo del Toro has spoken with open passion about this ludicrous, ludicrous film. In fact, he's right: it's pretty good.

“Entertaining” has become a euphemism for “crap, but with pretty set-pieces": a pleading entreaty offered by sci-fi apologists to save face when discussing yet another underwhelming summer movie we were foolish enough to get excited about.

It becomes an ever weaker descriptor as the years go by, cheapening in value with every genre movie that doesn’t quite work. The rush of excitement when the BBFC card appears on screen deflates quicker and quicker each time, leaving only a distracted internal voice that gnaws on plot holes and wonders when it will all be over.

Sitting through Prometheus last year, and then World War Z and Star Trek earlier this summer, that voice was as loud as popcorn. I began seriously wondering whether satisfying genre movies were even possible anymore or whether – worse yet – my brain was burnt out on effects-driven movies, jaded to spectacle and doomed to overthink any piece of simple fun.

During the full 132 minutes of Pacific Rim, however, I don’t think I actually had any thoughts.

Before a single critical neuron could fire, the film grabbed my mental wrist like the ancient mariner and gruffly set out its pitch with a relentless opening montage. “Here” it said, “is a story about people getting in huge robots to have fights with monsters, and it’s going to be loud”. Leaving no time for me to digest this, it proceeded to launch into the most astonishing fight between a robot and a monster.

Then there was more, and more, and more. The film stuck with its preposterous internal logic with complete attention to detail, and was paced in such a way as to never really leave time for reflection.

Director Guillermo del Toro has spoken with open passion about this ludicrous, ludicrous film. His single-mindedness triumphed in the finished product. Rather than the lumpen, episodic structure so familiar from the design-by-committee approach to blockbusting, Pacific Rim successfully maintained a constant escalation of pitch.

The visual storytelling was superb, with fights choreographed and shot more in the manner of a sports movie than a typical effects-led effort. There was no shaky-cam, no loss of spatial awareness or sense of scale, and no confusing, staccato smash cuts to flailing metal of the kind that the Transformers movies were so rightly pilloried for.

The world of the film was relentlessly imaginative, from the way city streets were built around the skeletons of fallen monsters, to the alien skin parasites collected and sold by black marketeers, right down to the patches and insignia on the uniforms of the heroes (yes, heroes. Pacific Rim is not the kind of film that has ‘protagonists’).

Everything could have been generic and still have contributed to something that was just as marketable, but instead reeked of hours and hours of careful design. 

In fact, the only thing to give my suspension of disbelief a wobble was Burn Gorman’s demented parody of a bookish scientist. Even though his role was written with the same level of operatic lunacy as the rest of the film, it felt awkwardly off-the-shelf in a way that nothing else really did.

In general, the human drama in Pacific Rim was inevitably going to be its weak point. But everyone involved could act, and the attempt to tackle real emotion was far enough in advance of the genre standard to make it seem mean-spirited to make a meal of the issue.

Certainly, Idris Elba bellowing “we are cancelling the apocalypse” came pretty close to unpardonably silly, but after two hours of gigatonne punching, that level of cheesiness seemed genuinely necessary in a way that I can’t honestly explain after the fact.

And that is, essentially, where any conversation on this movie ends for me. I can’t necessarily explain how del Toro got away with it, nor do I feel any real need to understand why. I simply really, really enjoyed how it felt to be watching the film. As I understand it, that’s entertainment.

I am robot. A still from Pacific Rim.

By day, Fred Crawley is editor of Credit Today and Insolvency Today. By night, he reviews graphic novels for the New Statesman.

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Donald Trump wants to terminate the Environmental Protection Agency - can he?

"Epa, Epa, Eeeepaaaaa" – Grampa Simpson.

 

There have been countless jokes about US President Donald Trump’s aversion to academic work, with many comparing him to an infant. The Daily Show created a browser extension aptly named “Make Trump Tweets Eight Again” that converts the font of Potus’ tweets to crayon scrawlings. Indeed, it is absurd that – even without the childish font – one particular bill that was introduced within the first month of Trump taking office looked just as puerile. Proposed by Matt Gaetz, a Republican who had been in Congress for barely a month, “H.R. 861” was only one sentence long:

“The Environmental Protection Agency shall terminate on December 31, 2018”.

If this seems like a stunt, that is because Gaetz is unlikely to actually achieve his stated aim. Drafting such a short bill without any co-sponsors – and leaving it to a novice Congressman to present – is hardly the best strategy to ensure a bill will pass. 

Still, Republicans' distrust for environmental protections is well-known - long-running cartoon show The Simpsons even did a send up of the Epa where the agency had its own private army. So what else makes H.R. 861 implausible?

Well, the 10-word-long statement neglects to address the fact that many federal environmental laws assume the existence of or defer to the Epa. In the event that the Epa was abolished, all of these laws – from the 1946 Atomic Energy Act to the 2016 Frank R. Lautenberg Chemical Safety for the 21st Century Act – would need to be amended. Preferably, a way of doing this would be included in the bill itself.

Additionally, for the bill to be accepted in the Senate there would have to be eight Democratic senators who agreed with its premise. This is an awkward demand when not even all Republicans back Trump. The man Trum appointed to the helm of the Epa, Scott Pruitt, is particularly divisive because of his long opposition to the agency. Republican Senator Susan Collins of Maine said that she was hostile to the appointment of a man who was “so manifestly opposed to the mission of the agency” that he had sued the Epa 14 times. Polls from 2016 and 2017 suggests that most Americans would be also be opposed to the agency’s termination.

But if Trump is incapable of entirely eliminating the Epa, he has other ways of rendering it futile. In January, Potus banned the Epa and National Park Services from “providing updates on social media or to reporters”, and this Friday, Trump plans to “switch off” the government’s largest citizen-linked data site – the Epa’s Open Data Web Service. This is vital not just for storing and displaying information on climate change, but also as an accessible way of civilians viewing details of local environmental changes – such as chemical spills. Given the administration’s recent announcement of his intention to repeal existing safeguards, such as those to stabilise the climate and protect the environment, defunding this public data tool is possibly an attempt to decrease awareness of Trump’s forthcoming actions.

There was also a recent update to the webpage of the Epa's Office of Science and Technology, which saw all references to “science-based” work removed, in favour of an emphasis on “national economically and technologically achievable standards”. 

Trump’s reshuffle of the Epa's priorities puts the onus on economic activity at the expense of public health and environmental safety. Pruitt, who is also eager to #MakeAmericaGreatAgain, spoke in an interview of his desire to “exit” the 2015 Paris Climate Agreement. He was led to this conclusion because of his belief that the agreement means “contracting our economy to serve and really satisfy Europe, and China, and India”.

 

Rather than outright closure of the Epa, its influence and funding are being leached away. H.R. 861 might be a subtle version of one of Potus’ Twitter taunts – empty and outrageous – but it is by no means the only way to drastically alter the Epa’s landscape. With Pruitt as Epa Administrator, the organisation may become a caricature of itself – as in The Simpsons Movie. Let us hope that the #resistance movements started by “Rogue” Epa and National Parks social media accounts are able to stave off the vultures until there is “Hope” once more.

 

Anjuli R. K. Shere is a 2016/17 Wellcome Scholar and science intern at the New Statesman

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