Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Cult-Movie Review: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014)


Near the end of Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973), Caesar (Roddy McDowall) vanquishes the insurrectionist, Aldo (Claude Akin) and simultaneously reinforces Ape Law, paradoxically the edict that “ape shall not kill ape.” 

Meanwhile, Caesar’s human adviser, MacDonald (Austin Stoker) notes that by confronting the notion that laws must occasionally be bent and values re-examined, the apes have irrevocably joined “the human race.”

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) is a vibrant, moving, beautifully-dramatized series entry that very much concerns the same reckoning. 

The new film revolves around Caesar’s (Andy Serkis) fall from grace or innocence, and the lesson that apes are not superior to man merely because of their nature. The world is not always a case of us vs. them, good vs. bad.  Caesar learns this in the film, though with great difficulty.

In addition to being a rock-solid remake of (and improvement over…) Battle for the Planet of the Apes, the new film -- in the best tradition of the long-lived franchise -- features a powerful subtext and social critique. 

In this case, much of the new film revolves around the very quality that is damaging our nation so grievously today: tribalism

And in gazing at the pitfalls of tribalism, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes asks explicitly (in its very dialogue) about something else. 

It asks about strength, and what that word truly means.

Does strength stem from superior numbers? From family?  From racial unity?  From the barrel of a gun?  

Does strength come from an irrational refusal to compromise with those who don’t see the world precisely as you do?  

When faced with facts that disprove your world-view, do you double-down anyway, in hopes of being seen as "resolute?" Or do you adjust to facts and go a different way?

Instead of these answers, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes suggests another definition of strength. Strength can, perhaps, emerge from an understanding that your tribe has made a mistake. Strength, in some cases, is all about having the guts to do something about an injustice you have played a role in creating.

In terms of the film, this is the chaotic terrain that Caesar must navigate, and there are no easy answers, and no guarantees that his answers are the right ones, either.  The humans and apes by-and-large double down on hatred and distrust, and the film's climax reveals exactly where that kind of thinking leads.  This is not an empty lesson in America of today, where we have become divided by labels like liberal and conservative that, in the final analysis, don't even adequately describe our beliefs.

A serious-minded, carefully-structured morality play, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes also daringly eschews all the bells-and-whistles we have come to expect from modern summer blockbusters. For instance, there are no action scenes in the film that exist just to wow us or bowl us over. 

Furthermore, there is no gimmicky “surprise” final shot in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes that attempts to up-stage the famous Statue of Liberty ending of the 1968 original.  The film ends as it begins, with extreme close-ups of a leader’s intelligent eyes as he carries the weight of his people, and the future, on his shoulders.  These book-end images place emphasis exactly where it should be: on Caesar’s learning curve as a rational leader, family man (or ape), and guardian of moral values in an uncertain world.

Most delightfully, there is no fan service to speak of in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, no moments that make us reckon with the existence of a larger franchise, or franchise history. Not a soul jokingly quotes famous Charlton Heston dialogue or plays with Statue of Liberty toys.   

Instead, director Matt Reeves lands us smack-dab in the planet of the apes, and tells us a great, involving, heart-wrenching story while we are there.

In the process, he’s given audiences the best Apes movie in a generation.


“Who the hell else am I going to blame?”

Ten years after the Simian Flu wipes out most of humanity, Caesar (Serkis) leads a society of intelligent apes in the safety and beauty of Muir Woods.  A father to a new-born son and a teen, Blue Eyes, Caesar and his friends, including Koba, Rocket and  Maurice, have established new laws to guide the primates, including the edict that ape shall not kill ape.

One day, in the woods, Blue Eyes and another ape, Ash, encounter a human, Carver.  The human immediately draws a gun and shoots Ash, though the ape survives.  Caesar orders Carver and his human cohorts, including Malcolm (Jason Clarke), Ellie (Keri Russell) and Malcolm’s boy, Alexander (Kodi Smit-McPhee) to return to their home, and never to return to the forest, the realm of the apes.

But the incident has already set in motion a series of events that can’t be undone.  Distrustful of humans, Koba begins to form an insurrection against Caesar, recruiting even the leader’s own son, Blue Eyes.

And back in San Francisco, the leader of the human colony, Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) prepares for war with the apes.  His people need to generate electricity using a dam in ape territory, and rather than see humanity fall back into the Dark Ages, Dreyfus is willing to kill to keep the lights on.

Malcolm and Caesar work together to help the human city maintain its power, but dark forces on both sides of the tribal divide plot to break the fragile peace.



“War has begun.”

Firstly, there can be no doubt that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is a remake of Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973).  Events and some specific characters are different, it is true, but in terms of spirit and intent, the two films boast many connections.

Both films, for example, reveal Caesar’s Ape civilization at an early stage of existence in the middle of a picturesque forest.  

In the Ape worlds of both Dawn and Battle the apes are depicted learning written language on the equivalent of chalk boards. More than that, they are learning a new law, which in both films is that, explicitly, “ape shall not kill ape.”



Similarly, both Battle and Dawn involve the march of the generations. 

In both films, we see that Caesar is a husband and a father. In Battle, his son is murdered by an insurrectionist, Aldo, and that is nearly the case, as well, in Dawn. Uniquely, the son of Caesar character is also visually associated with guns in both pictures.  

In Battle, we see young Cornelius playing a childhood game with a stick.  He pretends it is a gun, and make-believe “shoots” a human opponent.  

In Dawn, Caesar’s boy, Blue Eyes, picks up a real gun, and goes to war, though ultimately he regrets his actions.



Significantly, both films also find Caesar returning to the ruins of an old (human) city and unearthing there the wisdom of his father.  

In Battle for the Planet of the Apes, Caesar sees film-reel footage of Cornelius, who warns him that the world will end in bloodshed if the militarism and anti-human beliefs of ape culture are not put down.  

In Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Caesar returns to the San Francisco home we saw in the previous film, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) and watches recorded images from his own childhood.  He sees that Will Rodman (James Franco) loved him…and gave him a home.  This footage reminds him of a fact he once knew: not all humans are bad.

In both cases, the (dead) father provides the wisdom that Caesar needs to help him choose sides, and avoid unnecessary blood-shed. 



Many of the story beats in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes also follow those featured in Battle. 

For example, in both stories there is an inter-species war (ape vs. man) that “good” apes (like Caesar, Virgil, and Maurice and Rocket) don’t wish to undertake.  Apes and humans fight, but the war is expressly against the will of this group, who argue instead for peace.

Secondly, both films also feature an insurrection in the fragile, protean ape culture, led by a war-like ape that steals machine guns from an armory. 

In Battle, that ape was a gorilla, Aldo.  In Dawn, it’s Koba.  

In Battle, Aldo steals from the Ape armory, which is guarded by Caesar’s "conscience," a kindly old ape named Mandemus (Lew Ayres).  

In Dawn, Koba robs from the humans and takes their guns.



In terms of specific set pieces and theme, both films also end with a literal fall, one visually representing a fall from innocence. Aldo falls to his death from a high tree branch in Battle, after combating Caesar. Koba falls to his death from a high skyscraper scaffold after combating Caesar in Dawn. 

The setting has changed subtly in the battle, but the nature of the setting -- the highest branch that apes always seek out, so-to-speak -- and the conclusion (a fall from grace…) serve as the metaphorical and physical climax of both Ape pictures.



The fall from grace plays out in another way too. 

In both films, Caesar is forced to kill an ape that he trusted, in direct contravention of the law that ape shall not kill ape.  Yet he does so, ironically, to assure the continuance of ape culture and ape law. Thus his people -- in both films -- must reckon with a complicated nuance or shade of gray. The law must sometimes be bent or broken to save it for future generations. Values must periodically be hauled out and re-examined. In this case -- and only sometimes -- to save civilization, an ape must kill an ape, alas.

The notion of tribalism overwhelming reason is a consistent leitmotif in the film.

For example, Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) and his human cohorts risk everything for...electricity. They have decided, at some point, that electricity equates to civilization in their eyes, and they are not willing to step-down from that belief.  

No matter what. 

The humans could use torches or fires to light the night-time of San Francisco, but instead they cling to a delusion. They want things exactly the way they used to be....even though the Old World is now completely dead. They thus cling to a convention or tradition not because it makes sense in the present, but because it made sense in the past. They can't adjust to the present, and rather than do so, will kill to preserve a tradition that they cherish.

The same humans then double-down over this need for electricity. When faced with a challenge in acquiring it, they don't re-examine their beliefs. Instead, they decide it is valid to start a war and take it by force, killing many innocents on both sides in the process.  

Similarly, humans like Carver blame the apes for Simian Flu, successfully marginalizing them as enemies of humanity when that isn't precisely the case. When Carver is pointed to the facts by Ellie: that the apes were experimented on by humans, and that humans created the Simian Flu, Carver -- like others -- doubles-down on his ignorance and refuses to acknowledge the unpleasant truth.

Importantly, Koba also doubles-down on hatred and false beliefs. Even though situations have changed dramatically in ten years, he can see humans only as the monsters who tortured and abused him. He is now free of that captivity and safe, and human civilization has fallen to ruin, but he doesn't let such facts interfere with his consuming hatred for an "enemy."

In reckoning with such notions, Dawn operates on a plateau of moral and storytelling complexity well beyond its impressive predecessor. In Rise, it is easy for Caesar and his ape army to hate humans, for they have come to know humans only as sadistic and cruel. 

Caesar’s learning curve is much more difficult in Dawn, as he deals with the fact that it is an ape, not a human, who endangers the future of ape society. Life is rarely so simple as tribalism makes it out to be. There are villains and heroes among "us" and among "them."

If Rise is about Caesar taking control of his life, Dawn is about Caesar realizing that life is far more complex than he had understood. But he is ultimately a strong leader (and a great character) because he takes responsibility for his actions and mistakes, specifically for trusting Koba instead of realizing that apes too can "double down" on violent tendencies and beliefs.


Dawn of the Planet of the Apes examines the tribal mind-set well, without ever seeming preachy. Koba gains adherents by suggesting, explicitly, that Caesar loves humans more than he loves apes. This is not even close to being a true statement, and yet when apes see Caesar cooperating with humans, Koba’s words gain a certain level of surface legitimacy. 

In point of fact, Caesar is merely attempting to prevent bloodshed, because he knows how it will ultimately end: with many deaths among “us” and “them.”  But to some apes, he has become weak. Why give aid and comfort to the enemy?

On the flip-side, why not help someone who could one day be a trusted friend?

Ultimately, we see that it is Koba who is the weaker individual, because he cannot look past his own grievances and stereotyped views of humans to see that the men around him --Malcolm, Ellie and Alexander -- want only what the apes want: to survive.  Instead, he looks at them as being part of a tribe that he hates, and so writes them off without a second look.

Again, the message is one worth repeating.  Liberal or conservative, Christian or atheist, straight or gay, black or white, male or female, ape or man, we all love our children and all want to live happy lives in freedom. Why do we have to demonize each other when we have in common such important traits?

One nice aspect of the film is that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes treats human beings and apes as, essentially, mirror images, and no one side emerges as more villainous, thus making a point about tribalism that transcends partisan politics. 

Dreyfus cannot see the apes as anything more than mere animals, and so, like Koba, bases his decisions on faulty, out-dated information. In some way, then, the film suggests that the worst tribal instincts occur when we believe things of other people that perhaps once were true, but may no longer be so. We must examine such "truth" for ourselves, and see if it holds up. We must constantly adapt to reality, instead of trying to construct reality out of old, mistaken precepts.

In both cases, intelligent beings resort to tribal identities and loyalties rather than to reading the facts, and the results are disastrous for a planet already in dire straits. 

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes also reveals what happens when toxic tribalism meets gun-ownership...and the results aren’t pretty.  


At the risk of wading into controversy, it’s difficult to deny the fact that the carnage in this film would have been much less significant without all the fire-arms. In this case, guns only make a tense situation that much more horrible and bloody. Guns don’t really protect anybody in the film, or make a single outcome more positive. Contrarily, they render every confrontation more dangerous by a multiplicative factor. When both sides are acting irrationally and with extreme violence, how, precisely, do you discern who the "good guy with a gun" happens to be?

What you're really doing in a situation like this is basing your judgment on a biased pre-conceived notion, choosing the side of someone who happens to dress or otherwise look like you do. And that too is a resort to tribalism instead of rationality and reason.



On another subject entirely, with Rise of the Planet of the Apes I worried some about the plot device of Simian Flu wiping out humanity, instead of humanity wiping out himself in a nuclear war, as was the case in the original 1968 film.  

How could apes hate man so much after 2000 years unless man had acted in such a rash, horrible, planet-destroying way?

To my delight, Dawn provides the answer. 

It suggests that even in an end-of-the-world scenario, apes and man can’t put down their tribalism long enough to talk, to logically reason out a lasting peace for both.  Generations may pass, but hatred lives on.

Since we are long out of the Cold War at this juncture in our history, and the kind of irrational tribalism featured in the film is getting scary and murderous in real life right now, I appreciate the re-boot saga’s focus on that problem. 

In 2014, we can readily extrapolate a post-apocalyptic future whereinn tribalism is all that's left of civilization. Separate tribes, huddled in fear, lashing out at anything different or new, the person with the biggest cache of guns dictating what is defined as strength, and what is seen as weakness.


Finally, I must note  that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is beautifully-shot, but I was especially impressed by the moments in the last act, wherein the titular orange dawn arrives at last. Caesar braces for a war he doesn’t want against people he doesn’t hate, with soldiers he doesn't want to see die. Malcolm, behind him, seems to recede into shadow...until he disappears into blackness.  

This is the Dawn of the Planet of the Apes indeed, but visually, it is also the Total Eclipse of Mankind.  Malcolm -- the good man -- disappears into shadow, darkness, and history as a new force, a new tribe rises.

What happens when a leader less wise than Caesar takes the reigns of ape culture?  What will that "new" tribe be like then?

I suspect we will learn the answer to such questions in future Ape movies, and I very much like the notion that this version of the story exists in the same universe as the first five films. This tale could be interpreted as the rise of the apes before the time travel interference of Milo, Zira and Cornelius, and their son, who “becomes” Caesar in that time line.  

This is how the ape revolution began the first time, and Rise and Dawn depict the events that led to the world Taylor found in the original 1968 film. His ship then returned to the present (in Escape) and altered that history, changing everything. 

What we are seeing, then, in Rise and Dawn plays like “unaltered” ape history, a chronology in which man causes his own downfall (through irresponsible science first, and then tribalism), and apes rise. 

Perhaps, even at some point, desperate humans will launch nukes in a last-ditch effort to prove their "strength" in the face of an ape culture on the rise, thus creating the Forbidden Zone. Who knows?  A clever writer can square the circle in any number of ways and get us right back to Chuck Heston paddling for shore on that picturesque dead lake.

But in the final analysis, it doesn’t really matter, I suppose, how Dawn of the Planet of the Apes fits in with a forty-year old continuity. What matters instead is that this film speaks powerfully to us in the here and now as cogently as the 1968 original did to audiences of its day.

Back then, we thought we would blow each other up in a nuclear war. Today, our contentious tribalism is the danger looming on on the horizon, threatening to tear down what so many have worked so long and hard to build and protect.

And if that happens, says Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, our own worst human instincts will have made monkeys out of all of us.


18 comments:

  1. We have ourselves one hell of a film series here.

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  2. Anonymous10:29 AM

    Fantastic review, John . I especially enjoyed how you pointed out the way that this film uses many of the tropes and themes in BATTLE FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES. One thing does puzzle me, though:

    "For example, Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) and his human cohorts risk everything for...electricity. They have decided, at some point, that electricity equates to civilization in their eyes, and they are not willing to step-down from that belief.

    No matter what.

    The humans could use torches or fires to light the night-time of San Francisco, but instead they cling to a delusion."

    Now, I haven't gotten around to seeing the film yet, so perhaps this is a flaw in the screenplay, but I'm not quite sure how electricity counts as a "delusion." Sure, the humans in DAWN could use torches to light their homes at night, but fire burning torches are inferior to electric lights. For that matter, electrical power also allows for a host of other things: refrigeration, computers, automobiles, etc. Giving up electricity permanently would mean something more than giving up a "delusion"; it would mean giving up a tangible good, something that improves our quality of life.Now, there may be sound reasons for giving it up in the film, but it would still count as a real sacrifice.It is certainly not something that humans would undertake lightly (cf the rather silly moment at the end of the BATTLESTAR GALACTICA remake where we are asked to believe that the characters would willingly give up technology).

    trajan23

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    1. Hi Trajan, thank you for your kind words about the review.

      And yeah, I hated that ending of Battlestar Galactica. It didn't pass the smell test.

      But the delusion I speak of in Dawn is not electricity; it is the belief that having electricity fixes everything, and makes the world continue as it was. Having electricity has become the symbol for civilization when the example of the apes, in fact, shows that it is not.

      Electricity is real and helpful and I wouldn't want to do without it. But the humans are willing to kill for it, because it signifies to them the idea that the old world continues, and their old ways can continue too.

      The old world is dead, new solutions must be sought. That's all I mean by the delusion represented by electricity. It's the delusion that having power fixes anything in terms of the wider problem.

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    2. Anonymous2:05 PM

      Thanks for clarifying things, John. Yes, I can see how someone might come to value electricity purely as a totem and not as a tool.

      My problem, I suppose, is that I would find it hard to take seriously a character who thinks only in terms of electricity's symbolic value. If I were Dreyfus, I would be fighting for electricity for the tangible benefits that it would bring: vaccines so that children will not die of whooping cough and polio, x-rays for the injured, modern surgical methods, etc, and not for it's fetishistic value.


      trajan23

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    3. Trajan,

      I loved your comment, because you are dead right about electricity being important for healthcare, refrigeration and other needs.

      Yet oddly, when I remember the movie, the electricity came into the picture not for any of those pro-social purposes that you (rightly) enumerate...but as regards almost entirely to the lights at night-time...and virtually nothing else (except sending a call to the soldiers, I suppose...).

      This fact made me think that electricity in the film is more a symbol than a tool, but as always, that's just my interpretation!.

      I agree with you regarding Dreyfus. Were I in Dreyfus's shoes, I think I would want electricity not to light the night (because, what's really the point?) but to do all the things you suggest: surgery, refrigerate food, etc.

      It's really interesting that the humans don't characterize electricity as being helpful for any of those reasons in the film..not even refrigeration. And that got me thinking: they are deluded. They think if they have electricity, everything is okay.

      Again, that's purely my interpretation of the film, based on an initial viewing and my notes...

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  3. I found the scripted content and overall narrative to be rather generic; nothing in the film surprised me to that extent. I’m not even referring to its franchise parallel with prior entries, such as Battle for the Planet of the Apes, in this case, as I’ve never been all that well-versed with the series to begin with. I’m simply speaking in terms sci-fi genre films on the whole that similarly involve premises dealing with post-apocalyptic settings, humans vs. perceived savages, related villainous schemes, etc. A few aspects even annoyed me a bit.

    For example, I can maybe understand the thematic intent of the character Carver’s irrational prejudice against the apes, but within the context of the film it just didn’t feel credible at all. His "hippy-dippy" dismissal of the facts presented concerning the cause of the Simian Flu irked me because the discussion simply ends at that point where, realistically, his argument (or lack thereof) would-and-should have been whittled down with a continuing logic-driven rebuke. Yet, as it plays out, his character is conveniently stupid and bigoted merely to serve as an eventual plot-point, and perhaps Oldman’s character as well, to a lesser degree; neither in this instance are as severe as the father-son ape caretakers from the previous film, who existed solely as absurdly sneering caricatures, but they still felt less organic and more like storytelling crutches. At least with Koba, the impetus of his hatred was more thoroughly established.

    Speaking of which, Koba, in my opinion, is by far the best character in the film. Cesar might the most important and meaningful but most of his screen-time was relegated to stoic gazes of internalization, whereas Koba was overflowing from start to finish with all manner of gut-emotional presence. Bear with me for a moment, but I even sorta, maybe, kinda found myself rooting for Koba, just a little bit. I think he’s the most honest character in the film. Not the character himself, of course, but conceptually: history is filled with Kobas, both evolutionary and socio-politically. He’s a product of his environment—a conqueror in the sense that he’s a genuine opportunist. He’s all things shifty and suspicious and visceral, but because to him it means survival of the fittest; like Jack from Lord of the Flies, in that respect. And, you have to admit, Koba’s a total badass, riding horseback into battle with machineguns akimbo. I just think he makes a great villain, in part because he’s rather tragic and empathetic.

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    1. Anonymous1:52 PM

      Cannon:" I think he’s the most honest character in the film. Not the character himself, of course, but conceptually: history is filled with Kobas,"

      Well, he was he does have Joseph Stalin's nickname...

      trajan23

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  4. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes aforesaid formulaic screenplay is buoyed by some notably sophisticated filmmaking from Matt Reeves, particularly regarding the many set-pieces. Yes, the motion-capture CGI is superb to the point of being effectively invisible and the performances behind it are equally powerful; I suspect Andy Serkis will one day (sooner than later) achieve a legacy comparable to that of Ray Harryhausen or Stan Winston in his utter devotion to infusing characters into-and-through FX creations, and rightfully so. Yet there is so much artful subtlety and inventive visual perspectives from director Reeves, alone, how well he crafts suspense and how well he brings it altogether to resonate dramatically: the opening elk hunt, the introduction of the humans, a bitter-sweet moment where a powered-up gas station plays 'The Weight' by The Band, the torch-lit battle charge of the apes, a fixed camera shot from atop a tank commandeered by Koba, the final image of Malcom receding into darkness (as you mentioned) along so many others. Even the climatic, tower-top showdown between apes achieves the appropriate degree of spectacle without ever veering into spectacle excess; Reeves knowing when-and-how to end a sequence proper.

    So, overall, I think it’s pretty darn good movie, about tied with Edge of Tomorrow as the two most thoughtful and well-executed blockbuster outings of the summer thus far. I’m not exactly in love with either of them, but compared to the rest of the shit we typically get this time of year...

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    1. Cannon,

      I also really admired Edge of Tomorrow...and I wasn't expecting that to be so.

      So far, I'll confess to being quite happy with the four major films of the summer that I have seen (Godzilla, Oculus, Edge of Tomorrow and Dawn...).

      I'm staying away from superhero films for the moment. I don't think I can stomach another one for awhile. A recent viewing of Thor: The Dark World made me impose a moratorium on the sub-genre for a while.

      I understand your point about Carver, but disagree in some sense with your interpretation. It's clear that the guy is an ignoramus, and so there's no point, really, in continuing to debate him. I mean...don't we all know people like this, who simply won't accept logic and reason, and who won't let a litany of facts dissuade them from believing something stupid?

      I felt that the Carver character adequately tied into the idea of irrational tribalism: Carver won't blame his side for making the Simian Flu. It's the dumb apes' fault!

      I found Caesar mesmerizing, in part due to the fact that he seems to have, so clearly, an internal life, but I don't disagree with you about Koba, either. I felt both were powerfully-drawn characters.

      Great comments, as usual, my friend...

      best,
      John

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    2. Anonymous2:20 PM

      JKM:"I'm staying away from superhero films for the moment. I don't think I can stomach another one for awhile. A recent viewing of Thor: The Dark World made me impose a moratorium on the sub-genre for a while."

      Let me just say that when you do return to the fray, I would be most interested in reading your thoughts on CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER. To my way of thinking, it functions as a kind of rejoinder to the Bush-era ethos of THE DARK KNIGHT.

      trajan23

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    3. Trajan,

      I have always considered The Dark Knight (2008) to be the ultimate apology/validation of the Bush Era. Basically, it validates everything we did in the War on Terror, and says that spying is okay if a guy you trust does it, and that people should be lied to because they can't handle the truth.

      If you can accept that philosophical framework (which is tough for me to do, but as a critic, it's my job to entertain it...) the movie is remarkably consistent and it applies its case with ruthless aplomb. I still don't think the action scenes work, but as a right-wing apologia (not entirely inappropriate for Batman, the most right-wing of superheroes...) the film succeeds artistically. I do feel that many people haven't internalized the film's real messages.

      I will definitely post a review of Captain America here sooner rather than later.. I promise to watch the film with fresh eyes, and with the idea you put forward (rejoinder to Dark Knight) on my mind. Looking forward to it!

      All my best,
      John

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  5. Outstanding review John. What an amazing, emotional, thought provoking film that just stays with you. I have seen it twice and cannot wait to go back.

    Great insights, especially about the tribalism and doubling down in the face of indisputable facts. The "Apes" films have always been packed with current social/moral/political subtext and this one is no different. But what really makes "Dawn" so special are the characters and the quiet moments. The scene where Maurice and Caesar reminisce of the mountain top, the scene with Caesar and Malcolm in Cesar's old bedroom, and so many more.

    I would make a case that Koba is in a different class than Carver or Dreyfus. Carver is just a racist asshole, and a realistic one. There are probably a lot of Carvers in this world who need someone to blame and hate for everything so it becomes the apes. Dreyfus just sees the apes as a possible threat to his power (both literally and figuratively) and I have no doubt he was going to send a militia up there to wipe out the apes no matter what. Once that armory was opened, those guns were going to get used one way or another.

    No ape ever did anything to Carver or Dreyfus.What makes Koba different is that he was tortured by humans, literally spending a lifetime of suffering. His heart-wrenching story is told in detail in the excellent prequel novel "Firestorm' by Greg Keyes, but the films give you enough to get the idea.

    But, thanks to Caesar, as you point out Koba is now free. And he seemed to be doing fine, even thriving in his new life. What makes Koba's story so tragic is that once the humans showed up, it brought all of those memories back. He became paranoid because the only thing he can associate humans with is going back into a steel cage and being tortured. The hatred consumes him and he unable to think clearly and only sees a danger that has to be eliminated no matter what. and he'll kill anyone, human or ape, to avoid going back into that cage again. He is such a tragic, complex, great character.

    Where it gets interesting is playing out the what ifs. What if Koba had kept his rage in check and never went to the armory? Or asked Caesar to check it out as a precaution.

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    1. James: you make an excellent point about Koba, and one very much worth exploring, because I think it fits in with the current national context.

      Specifically, there are indeed demographic groups who were wronged in America: their ancestors were enslaved, or their land was taken. They were legitimate victims. Koba seems to be in this group. He was wronged, and finds it impossible to forgive his oppressors.

      Then there is the other group, which hasn't really been victimized at all, but believes with all its raging heart that it has. You know, if you say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas," you're a victim in the War on Christmas, for example.

      It's utter and complete nonsense. This is where Carver fits in.

      He hasn't been victimized by apes, but he sure as hell *knows* that he has been.

      The movie really captures this notion well, and differentiates between someone with a legitimate gripe, and someone who is simply an entitled asshole with a victim mentality.

      We can sympathize with Koba, despite all the violence he creates, because he was treated so badly. Carver...not so much.

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    2. Great point John! The current/real life list of phony outrage and manufactured baseless anger is endless, especially the way the Constitution is cherry picked for certain things and ignored for the parts that don't quite fit a certain ideology. And the doubling down in the face of indisputable science would be laughable if it weren't so serious.

      But to stay on point, Koba's grievances are real and understandable. We understand his motivation and for feel for him. He is scarred and damaged by human hate and torture. And sadly his views on human nature are accurate. But once his hate overwhelms him, he is blinded by it and cannot see that Malcolm and Ellie are different and Caesar really is wise enough to tell the difference between good humans and bad humans. If only someone were able to talk to Koba before he went off the deep end (perhaps Maurice) and say, "Just wait. We'll talk to Caesar and let him know about the armory" and maybe there could have been at least a temporary peace?

      Given human nature (and human history) peace never had a chance no matter what. But like Caesar and Malcolm, for a brief moment there in the film we felt like it had a chance and we wanted it to happen so bad.

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  6. The points you make are insightful as is typical of your work. I appreciated the in depth contrast between Battle for the Planet of the Apes and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. I think you are mostly correct in your assertion that this is a remake in spirit if not technically of the earlier film.

    I'd disagree a bit on your assessment of the Dreyfess character. He does not indicate any outward belligerence towards the apes. he is a reactionary who is motivated by fear. Some dark passages in the previous ten years are hinted at. I did not get the impression that they were merely trying to hold on to what they had, but there were trying to sustain what they had recovered. The San Francisco colony of survivors recognized that they would be limited without a sustained energy source. It was not just the lights they sought but communication with the rest of the world and reconnection to the technology they depended on (for example, Dreyfess only seeing the photos of his lost family after having sufficient energy to temporarily charge his tablet. Peace is a delicate thing and the tribalism you refer to makes it more so. Trust could only be established between Ceasar and Malcolm after they each make personal concessions. But personal trust cannot substitute for a value system or understanding of culture.

    The inevitable path of the apes is as clear as the one man has taken. This suggests that nature trumps tribe/species and that conflict and entropy are certain. In other words, the fault is in our stars.

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    1. Hi Richard,

      I love your comment, particularly the last line. There is a sort of hopelessness and weariness to the final passages of the film (again, much like Battle...).

      It's like: it's the end of the world, and we're doing this again? We're going to let everything go because we can't learn to live in peace with each other?

      Dreyfus, like many characters in the films, is complex. I agree with the previous reader who noted he was going to use those weapons in the armory, no matter what. You don't train and deploy weapons like that unless you intend to use them.

      And after seeing Caesar speak and demonstrate leadership, Dreyfus still has the temerity to consider the apes mere animals. I don't think he is evil incarnate, or "bad" in the traditional and two-dimensional movie sense, but the very fact that he wants electricity -- and will go to war for it -- so he can see pictures of his kids on an I-Pad -- suggests that he isn't really grappling with the here and now of the new world.

      He is living in that delusion that electricity will bring back the age of wonder and leisure he lost, I believe. I found the scene touching, because it was his way of reconnecting with his family, but also a symptom of utter irrationality in the face of a crisis. He is going to war so he can hold onto a piece of the past.

      And again, as I noted in a previous comment, Dreyfus never makes note in the film of health-care of refrigerating food. He makes primary mention of the light,s and secondary mention of reaching out to other survivors.

      Interesting debate. Again, this was just my interpretation after seeing the film once, and re-reading my notes. When I watch the film again it is entirely possible that I missed some nuance there...

      best,
      John

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  7. Fantastic review John. And what an incredible movie, already amongst my favorites of all time. So happy to see that this is how the POTA franchise is evolving.

    It's fascinating that Koba and his journey has emerged as the greatest talking point from the film, from what I've seen and heard since the film's release. In particular the debate of whether Koba was justified in his actions, and whether we should be cheering at his death at the end of the film. Comments ranging from Koba seeking justice against the humans for the tortures he suffered, to the near total wiping out of the human race being justice enough. Interestingly, I've read that some view Koba's evolution to being so far gone in his crusade against humans, leaving Caesar with no choice but to kill him, was brought about by Caesar’s endorsing of Koba's murder of Jacobs at the end of Rise. Some have argued that Caesar therefore contributed to "creating" Koba in his final form that we witness throughout Dawn.

    My view is that there cannot be justice for what happened to Koba. There cannot be any form of cathartic retribution. It's just not possible considering the extent of trauma and abuse he suffered. Is there any relief to Koba that the humans were almost wiped out? He still has to live with his scars, his nightmares, and he will never reach a point where he can exhale and move past his past.

    The damage to Koba cannot be undone. Koba's fall to the point where he is "too far gone" was inevitable. If Caesar's act of endorsing Koba's murder of Jacobs played any role, it was simply to speed up the process, at best. Deep down, Koba's fall was simmering and would eventually boil over. It was just a question of when.

    In that sense, Koba, in my view, is one of the greatest villains in movie history. A truly tragic figure that we can all sympathize with and regret his fate, in spite of all of the violent acts he commits against humans. I've seen far more articles and discussions about Koba than about the main character Caesar. I'm guessing the spirit of Koba, perhaps by means of Apes remembering Koba as a martyr like figure, will flow through future films in this series. If I was the producers I certainly wouldn't want to let that character go, though I hope they don't decide that he survived and literally bring him back. That would take away all the impact of the finale and of Koba's journey. It ended the only way it could.

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