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Science Fiction Film and Television, Volume 2, Issue 2, Autumn 2009,

pp. 322-327 (Review)

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DOI: 10.1353/sff.0.0074

For additional information about this article

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/sff/summary/v002/2.2.brown01.html

Access provided by Roehampton University (20 Oct 2015 22:44 GMT)

322 DVD reviews

place such alternatives on personal and even governmental agendas. The dis-
closure that Alternative 3 is a hoax implies that there is still time for change. In
1977, there was perhaps space for such optimism; in 2009, the programme’s
apocalyptic perspective seems an unpleasantly accurate insight into human
ecological myopia, selfishness and greed.
In an interview included on the DVD, which also features Miles and Brin-
ton, Ambrose remarks how Alternative 3 was a ‘hoax that became prophetic’.
Whilst this comment marginalises the wealth of literature that also predicted
catastrophic environmental change, it nevertheless emphasises the film’s
importance as a cultural document. Alternative 3 not only provides an insight
into televisual conventions of the time, but also points to the beginnings of
what has become, perhaps too late, a global preoccupation.
Sadly, Alternative 3’s deserved longevity is not attributable to its ecological
message. Rather, it is the programme’s acceptance as truth by conspiracy theo-
rists that has ensured its durability, particularly through various Internet sites
and communities (www.crowdedskies.com/tony_dodd_alternative_3 and www.
bibliotecapleyades.net/exopolitica/esp_exopolitcs_Zl.htm are representative
examples). The suggestion that the film is a hoax, they argue, is an elaborate
double-bluff. Denial, or so the twisted reasoning concludes, is a sufficient sign
of credibility. This claim, and others was certainly encouraged by the publi-
cation of Leslie Watkins’ mock-journalistic investigation Alternative 3 (1978),
which developed the concepts and themes of the original film in a deliber-
ately ambiguous fashion (it can be read at www.theforbiddenknowledge.com/
hardtruth/alternative_3_pt4.htm). Nevertheless, the programme’s co-option
by paranoiacs should not detract from its significance as a piece of television
history, an important text in the rising ecological awareness of the 1970s and
an unsettlingly accurate meditation on both environmental change and our
unwillingness or inability to act decisively in response. Alternative 3 remains
an impressive artefact and the Soda Pictures DVD, replete with a thirty-three-
minute making-of documentary and an extensive gallery of press cuttings, is a
welcome acknowledgment of its artistry.

Dante 01 (Marc Caro France 2008). Momentum. PAL region 2. 16:9 wide-
screen. £12.99.
William Brown
It is impossible to write about Marc Caro without making reference to Jean-
Pierre Jeunet, the director with whom he made a number of shorts and the
 DVD reviews 323

successful feature films Delicatessen (France 1991) and La cité des enfants perdus
(City of Lost Children; France/Germany/Spain 1995). Jeunet went on to dir-
ect Alien: Resurrection (US 1997), the immensely successful Le destin fabuleux
d’Amélie Poulain (Amélie; France/Germany 2001) and Un long dimanche de
fiançailles (A Very Long Engagement; France/US 2004). Caro, meanwhile, has
had to wait over a decade for the chance to direct his first solo feature, a space
prison colony film called Dante 01.
There is no indication that Jeunet and Caro parted with bitterness, since they
have said that they only collaborated on projects for which they both cared
(Michaud and d’Yvoire 69), and Caro still considers himself to be a friend of
Jeunet (Beiramar). However, Jeunet’s success in comparison to Caro is marked,
and one could be forgiven for thinking that the latter might feel some resent-
ment, not least because Dante 01, a film that takes place entirely within the
confines of a remote space station which is divided into two distinct parts (one
for the prisoners, one for the wardens) and thought to be threatened by an alien
presence, is reminiscent of the Alien film made before Jeunet’s effort, the under-
appreciated Alien3 (Fincher US 1992). In other words, one might infer that Caro
is declaring his preference for Fincher’s pared-down and troubled production
(complete with bald-headed protagonists who look like something out of Chris
Cunningham’s video for the Aphex Twin’s ‘Daddy Knows Best’) over the more
upscale, equally troubled and slightly garbled Jeunet film.
However, although Dante 01 does bear a strong resemblance to Alien3, this
is probably because it is more in keeping with Caro’s style. (Of Caro and Jeu-
net’s joint films, Dante 01 most closely resembles Le bunker de la dernière rafale
(Bunker of the Last Gunshots; France 1981), a short film about skinhead sol-
diers locked in a bunker in the future and subjected to scientific experiments
(see Ezra, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 17–20)). Considering their solo work, one might
surmise of the Jeunet–Caro films that, as Guillaume Loison suggests, it was
Caro who favoured the darkness and scientific/technological elements all along,
while Jeunet was keener to tell stories. Alien: Resurrection seems to have been an
uncomfortable film for Jeunet (see Ezra, ‘Resurrecting’), who has not worked
in Hollywood since, apparently from choice (he turned down the opportunity
to direct a Harry Potter film (Ezra, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2)). Sf without Caro was
not Jeunet’s strong suit, and his subsequent films are lighter in tone than Deli-
catessen and La cité des enfants perdus. It is widely recognised that Caro was
in charge of visuals and artistic design in their collaborative films, not least
because of his background in comic books such as Métal hurlant, while Jeunet
worked with the actors (e.g. Ezra, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 3). Furthermore, while all
of Jeunet’s films take place in relatively confined locations (Ezra, Jean-Pierre
324 DVD reviews

Jeunet, 17), the claustrophobic feel of Delicatessen and La cité des enfants perdus
– intensified by the decision to have so much of the screen in darkness so much
of the time – is surely a trait more attributable to Caro, as the crepuscular Dante
01, contrasted to the relative whimsy of Amélie and Un long dimanche, demon-
strates.
In other words, it would seem natural for Caro’s first solo feature to be a clois-
tered sf film defined by its darkness, shadows and a predilection for technology
and special effects, even if the pared-down look is due in part to budgetary
constraints: Dante 01 certainly cost less than the rumoured €60 million, with
Caro saying he got less than half that amount (Beiramar) and Allociné listing a
budget of €8 million (various other projects were abandoned as too costly (see
Delorme 100; Scatton-Tessier and Tessier 30)).
Furthermore, if Alien: Resurrection was the work of Jeunet without Caro,
Dante 01 can be seen as the work of Caro without Jeunet, since the film does
not offer much of a (clear) narrative. Following an encounter two years previ-
ously with an alien force, St Georges (Lambert Wilson, toned and beefy and
not, for once, in a suit) is deposited on Dante 01, where he seemingly manages
to ‘cure’ several psychopathic inmates of their violent urges. This undermines
the authority of head prisoner, César (played by Dominique Pinon, in a role
that, given his diminutive stature, is as incongruously malevolent as, but sig-
nificantly more outspoken than, his Curé in Diva (Beineix France 1981)). César
therefore sets out to destroy St Georges. Mirroring St Georges’ arrival among
the inmates, however, is the arrival of Elisa (Linh-Dan Pham) among the doc-
tors who observe and experiment on them. Elisa specialises in ‘curing’ psycho-
paths through the use of nanotechnology, experimenting on various inmates
from whom St Georges removes this ‘poison’ (as well their original malevo-
lence). It transpires that there is previously undetected collaboration between
the inmates and the doctors, and that the station has been sabotaged and is set
to crash into Dante, the planet that it orbits. As inmates and doctors alike try
to establish the value of life, and decide whether to try to escape or to stay, it
is vaguely suggested that it is the planet itself that affects the characters, driv-
ing them to evil. It is only St Georges who can help them face their demons or
‘conquer their dragons’.
If this synopsis is unclear, it is because the narrative is unclear. This need not
be interpreted as a fault, even if Dante 01’s obliqueness produced poor notices
and box-office returns. Caro has expressed an interest in ‘exploring other nar-
rative forms, ones in which there’s a little media interactivity. What especially
interests me is developing universes, and multimedia can enable me to explore
a universe that I will construct’ (Ezra, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 4), and Caro does
 DVD reviews 325

not see himself primarily as a cineaste, but as someone who uses the appropri-
ate medium to express his ideas (Beiramar). However, if Caro is interested in
cross-media storytelling, there is little evidence of it here. Lambert Wilson has
compared Caro to the Wachowski brothers in terms of visual style (Scatton-
Tessier and Tessier 30), and while this film and the Matrix sequels (Wachowski
brothers USA/Australia 2003) may share not only Wilson but also a predilec-
tion for naming characters after personages from mythology and history (Attila,
Buddha, Charon, Lazarus, Moloch, Persephone, Rasputin, Cerberus), there
is little sense of Caro’s ability to tell a story across multiple platforms (films,
animations, games, websites, etc.) as happened with the Matrix franchise. The
Dante 01 website has some storyboards, brief back stories for the characters and
a competition, but that is about it.
Given his strong reputation for the visual, it is ironic that Caro, well known
for storyboarding an entire film before shooting (see Saint-Vincent), deferred
these duties to Frédéric Blanchard and Stéphane Gess, although, as Scatton-
Tessier and Tessier point out, the storyboards were, interestingly, published at
the same time as the film was released (26). However, the move away from nar-
rative and towards an emphasis on the visual, in particular the space of the film
(or the spatialisation of the narrative), is not necessarily a revolutionary strategy,
as Sean Cubitt makes clear: ‘Spatialisation of the effect may appear to save us
from the linearity of narrative, but the two are, to paraphrase Adorno, the torn
halves of an integral tyranny to which, however, they do not add up’ (27). That
is, a rejection of narrative time in favour of narrative space (emphasis on the
location, such that it becomes a character, and so on) is still narrative enough to
reinforce dominant filmmaking trends.
However, since Caro’s special effects are generally low-key, even if marked
within the film (as when nanotech surges through human bloodstreams), one
might argue that, these are not the show-stopping special effects of mainstream
fare, but something more mundane. In other words, narrative is not necessar-
ily replaced here by satisfactory spectacle but by something significantly more
small-scale. To disappoint through downplaying visual effects, rather than to
excite through their escalation, in addition to presenting a narrative that is
almost incomprehensible: perhaps this is the ‘progressive’ trick that Caro seeks
and achieves – although one wonders how to justify this perverse claim if the
film is simply ignored, as seems to have been the case. Unless, of course, one
makes the similarly perverse claim that for Caro to waste money on a pointless
film is also a ‘revolutionary’ strategy: rather than indulging our dreams of cata-
clysm by having massive explosions (we see money spent on wasting things),
Caro denies us even this pleasure (we just see money wasted).
326 DVD reviews

In spite of Jules Verne, despite being the birthplace of Georges Méliès, in

whose footsteps Caro claims to follow (Saint-Vincent 46), and despite notable
exceptions, such as La Jetée (Marker France 1962), Alphaville (Godard France/
Italy 1965) and some of Luc Besson’s work, France is not well known for its
sf cinema (Beiramar). The genre receives barely any attention in histories of
French film. Recently, however, thanks to the work of Jan Kounen, Pitof, Chris-
tophe Gans and others, France has enthusiastically put forward low- to medi-
um-budget horror, fantasy and sf films making use of digital special effects (see
Austin; Scatton-Tessier and Tessier 26). However, Caro suffers in comparison to
these sometime-collaborators because he is so concerned with (digital) visuals
that he dispenses with narrative more than they do.
Although a reported fan of digital technology and cinema (Michaud and
d’Yvoire 72; Saint-Vincent 45), Caro seems to have an ambivalent relationship
with digital imagery, as suggested by the film’s title, which links the digital code
(01) to Dante’s inferno. It can be inferred that the planet that the prison orbits
induces evil in men, as if somehow it is only when abstracted wholly from a
place that we might be ‘good’. But the planet Dante is, in this film, a digital and
empty construct, in the same way that the references to Classical and Eastern
mythology, religion and history, together with Perséphone’s (Simona Maica-
nescu) voiceover and a Dantesque structure (chapters entitled ‘Paradise’, ‘Pur-
gatory’, ‘The Circles of Hell’), are empty signifiers (they do not seem to make
sense). It does not add up, then, that the film is so digital in its look and feel,
for while the digital nanotechnology employed by Elisa is dehumanising (it
removes our – psychopathic – faults), the film does not posit humanity as the
saving grace of the characters (barely capable of speech, St Georges, following
his alien encounter, is not necessarily human).
Caro cites Sunshine (Boyle UK/USA 2007) as an influence (Beiramar), but
unlike that film, which masterfully hides its modest budget behind awe-inspir-
ing and mind-boggling effects, Dante 01 is just boggling, and not in the good
way that is, say, Solyaris (Solaris; Tarkovsky USSR 1972). If Dante himself wrote
that ‘Nature is the art of God’, then digital effects are the unnatural art of men
and, in this instance, man, or rather Marc Caro, suffers greatly in comparison. If
the film seemingly mourns the loss of humanity in the face of all-powerful and
behaviour-controlling technologies, then why make a film that is technological
to the hilt?
One feels inclined to conclude about Caro’s film as Dante urges those who
pass through the underworld: ‘Let us not speak of them; but look, and pass on.’
Sadly, even looking at Dante 01 is not much fun, which is probably why most
people have passed on it without speaking a word in the first place.
 DVD reviews 327

Works cited

Allociné. Dante 01 page. <www.allocine.fr/film/fichefilm_gen_cfilm=110951.html>.

Austin, James F. ‘Digitizing Frenchness in 2001: On a “Historic” Moment in the French
Cinema’. French Cultural Studies 15:3 (2004): 281–99.
Beiramar, Emmanuel. ‘Marc Caro, monomaniaque de l’imaginaire’. Fantasy.fr (2  January
2008). <www.fantasy.fr/interviews/view/136>.
Cubitt, Sean. ‘Digital Filming and Special Effects’. The New Media Book. Ed. Dan Harries.
London: British Film Institute, 2002. 17–29.
Delorme, Gérard. ‘Caro ressuscite Wilson’. Première 355 (September 2006): 96–103.
Ezra, Elizabeth. Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Chicago: U of Illinois P, 2008.
——. ‘Resurrecting the Alien Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet in Hollywood’. New Cinemas:
Journal of Contemporary Film 1:1 (April 2002): 54–60.
Loison, Guillaume. ‘Dante 01,’ Chronicart.com (2008). <www.chronicart.com/cinema/chro-
nique.php?id=10786>.
Michaud, Juliette and Christophe d’Yvoire. ‘Jeunet Caro la clé des songes’. Studio Magazine
99 (May 1995): 66–73.
Saint-Vincent, Raphaël. ‘Panoramique: rencontre avec Marc Caro’. Storyboard 5 (September
2003): 40–6.
Scatton-Tessier, Michelle and Eric Tessier. ‘From Storyboard to Film: Marc Caro’s Dante 01’.
Film International 6:3 (2008): 26–33.

Death of a President (Gabriel Range UK 2006). Lionsgate. NTSC region 1. 16:9
widescreen. US$14.98.
Carl Freedman
Like vers libre, or the ‘talking blues’ associated with Woody Guthrie and the
early Bob Dylan, the fictional documentary is one of those genres that look easy
to do; and they all are easy in the sense that – unlike writing a sonnet or com-
posing a fugue – they are easy to do badly. An aesthetic mode that offers evident
simplicity, great flexibility and the absence of rigidly defined technical specifi-
cations will naturally tend to permit slovenliness and, correlatively, to require
an unusually strong ad hoc sense of form in order to produce work of genuine
value. Achieving an adequate structure in a fictional documentary may thus be
more readily attainable if the overall ambitions of the film are fairly modest. It is
unsurprising that perhaps the most successful director of fictional documenta-
ries is Christopher Guest, whose ‘mockumentaries’ are devoted to poking gen-
tle (and rather affectionate) fun at such innocuous institutions as small-town
amateur theatre (Waiting for Guffman (US 1996)), the world of dog shows (Best
in Show (US 2000)) and the folk-music scene (A Mighty Wind (US 2003)). All
are pleasant, enjoyable films, and none aspires to greatness.