What if we were not alone, really?

Let’s play the “What if?” game for a minute. What if there was life on another planet? (Seen this film already.) What if we could communicate with other planets? (Nothing new.)

But, what if there was another you? On another Earth?

This is the establishing question surrounding Mike Cahill’s feature film debut Another Earth. As blatant in the title, scientists have discovered “another earth” (deemed Earth II) that has come within both visual and communicative reach. On first contact, it seems that the new Earth mirrors our Earth. The same landscape. The same people. And (just maybe)… the same story lines. The latter of which becomes the primary curiosity.

I get it. It sounds like it could be some sci-fi travel adventure where Nicholas Cage makes a heroic journey to Earth II in order to save all of humanity and beyond.

Let me clarify. It’s not.

In fact, it is arguably more of a philosophical art piece than sci-fi. It’s driven by the questions. It’s patient. It favors visual communication. It creates tension. In other words, it admitantly fits the “rednow” genre quite well.

There is no doubt (here at rednow) we are deeply interested in the question “What does it mean to be human?” Cahill is seemingly interested in the same question. While on the surface, the narrative explores the reality of another earth and another you, this is ultimately not the primal question of the film. Back to the “What if?”

What if we were not alone?

This is the story of Another Earth.

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Another Earth is currently playing in a few select local Art House theaters. If not playing hear you, no worries. It will be out on DVD on November 29th.

Where’s the twist?

I was about a third of the way through The 39 Steps when my wife, Kate, walked into the basement where two friends had joined me to take in Hitchcock’s world. She asked us the natural question—how’s the movie?

My friend’s response speaks of the importance of The 39 Steps as a film and Alfred Hitchcock’s place in cinematic story telling. Carson looked at Kate and said, “I’m waiting for it to happen.”

“It,” of course, is the twist.

In 1869, Phonney Martin was described as an “extremely hard pitcher to hit for the ball never comes in a straight line‚ but in a tantalizing curve.” While it is still debated who the first pitcher was to throw a curveball, no one who watches baseball can imagine the game without it. The curve, at one point in time, had never been seen. When it slashed across the plate for the first time with a bat hopelessly chasing it, the game was changed forever.

Martin’s curveball was not the fastest, craziest, most unpredictable pitch ever thrown. Others have come along since and done more with the curve. But there was a time where Martin was almost unhittable. He took people’s breath away.

In 1935, when The 39 Steps flashed across screens worldwide, cinema changed forever. No longer would the viewer step into the theater and expect a straight narrative line. Hitchcock had changed the game.

The 39 Steps isn’t the fastest, craziest, most unpredictable film you will ever see. But almost every filmmaker who uses a narrative twist, not to mention high camera angles, point-of-view shots and intentional framing to tell their story, is copying something that started with Hitchcock.

So step into the box and enjoy the beauty of a first of its kind as it flies by you.

You may have already read his sister’s eulogy that was released this weekend.  In it we learn that with family surrounding him Steve Jobs’ last words were, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”  I wish I could have been there to hear the tone and pitch and meaning and weight of those words.  Were they pensive?  Excited?  Scared?  Triumphant?  Sad?   All of the above?

I imagine that Chris McCandless’ final words carried a similar sentiment as he took his final breath on Bus 142 in March of 1992.  Except Chris was totally alone, penniless, starving and malnourished in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness.

What else could you say after a two year adventure of shedding your identity, abandoning every societal norm and embarking on a quest for ultimate truth–with no money, no ID, no family holding you back.  What kind of “Oh wow” must Chris have been feeling in those final moments?

This is the story behind Into The Wild.  My generation’s modern epic.  Our real life Shakespearean tragedy.  Our battle cry of what matters.  Of what we do and why we do it.

If Steve is the icon, the secular prophet of our technologically obsessed society, than Chris McCandless is his antagonist–an unassuming life demanding that there must be a better way.

There really is no other response to Chris’s short life, his heart, and the questions that take him to places and people and adventures that I will never see… “Oh wow.” (The tone with which you say these two words will depend on how you unpack this film, and Chris’s story, for yourself.)

What’s the best ending to a movie you’ve ever seen?

The usual suspects (now there is a movie with a great surprise ending) are the world blowing up in Dr. Strangelove,  Michael Corleone shutting a door in the face of his wife in The Godfather, Charlton Heston discovering the planet of those “damn, dirty apes” was actually earth, or Bogie putting Ingrid Bergman on a plane in Casablanca. (Sorry for the plot spoilers, but you really should have seen all those movies by now.)

My vote goes for something much older and surprisingly tender.  I’ll put the end of Charlie Chaplin’s film, City Lights, up against them all.  I don’t want to say too much about it (my guess is you’ve never seen it) but suffice it to say that I believe one way to view the ending of this movie is as a retelling of the gospel story.  I may be weird, since I’ve never seen any critic reference this, but I believe it’s there.  Watch it and tell me what you think. About the ending and the gospel, that is, not about me being weird.

A few words about City Lights: It was made in 1931, two years after The Jazz Singer revolutionized the movie business with sound.  What was a silent auteur like Chaplin to do?  He took advantage of sound by writing the score to the movie, but did not include dialogue.  City Lights is a sort of anachronism then, a silent movie that didn’t need to be silent.  It is also widely regarded as the best of all of Chaplin’s films.  Do yourself a favor–watch City Lights, written, directed, produced, and edited by Charlie Chaplin, with music by Charlie Chaplin.  Oh yeah, it stars Charlie Chaplin as well.

Why not enjoy a genius at the top of his game?