It's almost as if the movie was saying, "No, we're not your father's action movie!" followed by, "Gotcha! We're absolutely going to be your father's action movie!"
I loved this analysis! Another recent one that comes to mind is G20 (which I have to admit, I loved!) The "villain" falls into your "noble goal, crazy guy" category.
This conversation (and like @Didironomy commented -- thoughtful excavation rather than critique) reminds me of another film related perspective I can't stop thinking about. Kate Bernheimer's essay, "Fairy Tale is Form, Form is Fairy Tale" can apply to so many films in the industry right now. Jessica Defino actually wrote a beautiful excavation piece using this lens recently (https://open.substack.com/pub/jessicadefino/p/the-substance-review) and I have been tempted, oh so tempted, to start a new series on this very thing.
this really got my brain going and I feel a subsequent post brewing based on a couple things presented here. thank you both so much for this gorgeous exchange.
I made a point to watch Cleaner last night after reading this, and I strategically paired it with How to Blow Up a Pipeline.
And these two films, together, made me think of body horror, specifically David Cronenberg’s observation of how we can cheer for what we’re meant to understand as heroic violence (the villain gets shot, for instance), but are we prepared to cheer as loudly if we then have to reckon with the results of that violence (the body, the blood, the brains)? Furthermore, how does the emotional starting point of such an act of violence influence our response to it?
Santos, in this case, is working with a poor hand. His actions clearly, primarily stem from a venomous, misguided hatred for all humanity, so right away, we’re not inclined to cheer for what’s to come. Then he actually performs the actions; bodily violence — confronting and overt — whose results we also reckon with. The wind in a hideous sail, environmentalist perhaps only by happenstance.
The equivalent action in HtBUaP is, of course, the blown-up pipeline. The emotional jumping point here, in the aggregate, is anger, but it’s presented as one of self-defence and insurance for human prosperity — Xochitl’s mother has died from a heat wave, Theo has terminal cancer on account of environmental pollution, Dwayne, a family man, loses his home to oil companies per eminent domain laws. For this and other reasons, there’s an overt precedence to cheer for what’s to come.
Then the pipeline is blown — a confronting and overt action that we reckon with the carnage of, but that carnage is completely different. We don’t emotionally object to a destroyed pipeline like we do a dead body. However, the economic impacts of this act of sabotage on the working class, like Agnian’s crimes, are rendered as detached and ambient. But where those economic impacts are our lone point of contention to the blown pipeline, Agnian’s crimes are the lone point of agreeability we find in Santos’ murder spree.
These entwined dynamics fascinate me, and they go deeper than that, but I suppose my ultimate question is this: assuming we can’t effectively decolonize the visual language that accompanies activist cinema, can we perhaps leverage it to the point where it can be met as a cinematic litmus test a la A History of Violence? What languages — visual and otherwise — in the cinematic organism are we prioritizing, parsing, and dismissing with respect to the message? How can the filmmaking process learn from this? Is there a perfect ratio for this? And if we’re not entertaining or respecting those elements of moral/emotional discomfort, is it even effective activist cinema at that point?
This crossover gave me life; really appreciate what you’ve both said here.
This piece strikes me as an illuminating excavation—unearthing intent behind what might otherwise be dismissed as run-of-the-mill spectacle. While most conversations pan the film, centering on its place in the canon of women-led action and its derivativeness, this analysis shifts attention to the symbolic weight carried by the antagonists and their “victims”—quoted for posterity, because please.
Rather than offering critique, it opens up a space for examination: an invitation to approach even the most seemingly shallow films with humility—a posture that can transform casual viewings into quiet revelations.
It's almost as if the movie was saying, "No, we're not your father's action movie!" followed by, "Gotcha! We're absolutely going to be your father's action movie!"
Great analysis, everything on-point.
Fromtheyardtothearthouse.substack.com
I loved this analysis! Another recent one that comes to mind is G20 (which I have to admit, I loved!) The "villain" falls into your "noble goal, crazy guy" category.
This conversation (and like @Didironomy commented -- thoughtful excavation rather than critique) reminds me of another film related perspective I can't stop thinking about. Kate Bernheimer's essay, "Fairy Tale is Form, Form is Fairy Tale" can apply to so many films in the industry right now. Jessica Defino actually wrote a beautiful excavation piece using this lens recently (https://open.substack.com/pub/jessicadefino/p/the-substance-review) and I have been tempted, oh so tempted, to start a new series on this very thing.
All that to say -- I loved this so much!
this really got my brain going and I feel a subsequent post brewing based on a couple things presented here. thank you both so much for this gorgeous exchange.
I made a point to watch Cleaner last night after reading this, and I strategically paired it with How to Blow Up a Pipeline.
And these two films, together, made me think of body horror, specifically David Cronenberg’s observation of how we can cheer for what we’re meant to understand as heroic violence (the villain gets shot, for instance), but are we prepared to cheer as loudly if we then have to reckon with the results of that violence (the body, the blood, the brains)? Furthermore, how does the emotional starting point of such an act of violence influence our response to it?
Santos, in this case, is working with a poor hand. His actions clearly, primarily stem from a venomous, misguided hatred for all humanity, so right away, we’re not inclined to cheer for what’s to come. Then he actually performs the actions; bodily violence — confronting and overt — whose results we also reckon with. The wind in a hideous sail, environmentalist perhaps only by happenstance.
The equivalent action in HtBUaP is, of course, the blown-up pipeline. The emotional jumping point here, in the aggregate, is anger, but it’s presented as one of self-defence and insurance for human prosperity — Xochitl’s mother has died from a heat wave, Theo has terminal cancer on account of environmental pollution, Dwayne, a family man, loses his home to oil companies per eminent domain laws. For this and other reasons, there’s an overt precedence to cheer for what’s to come.
Then the pipeline is blown — a confronting and overt action that we reckon with the carnage of, but that carnage is completely different. We don’t emotionally object to a destroyed pipeline like we do a dead body. However, the economic impacts of this act of sabotage on the working class, like Agnian’s crimes, are rendered as detached and ambient. But where those economic impacts are our lone point of contention to the blown pipeline, Agnian’s crimes are the lone point of agreeability we find in Santos’ murder spree.
These entwined dynamics fascinate me, and they go deeper than that, but I suppose my ultimate question is this: assuming we can’t effectively decolonize the visual language that accompanies activist cinema, can we perhaps leverage it to the point where it can be met as a cinematic litmus test a la A History of Violence? What languages — visual and otherwise — in the cinematic organism are we prioritizing, parsing, and dismissing with respect to the message? How can the filmmaking process learn from this? Is there a perfect ratio for this? And if we’re not entertaining or respecting those elements of moral/emotional discomfort, is it even effective activist cinema at that point?
This crossover gave me life; really appreciate what you’ve both said here.
This was lovely. And it makes me wish I remembered exactly how that Brit Marling film ended...
This piece strikes me as an illuminating excavation—unearthing intent behind what might otherwise be dismissed as run-of-the-mill spectacle. While most conversations pan the film, centering on its place in the canon of women-led action and its derivativeness, this analysis shifts attention to the symbolic weight carried by the antagonists and their “victims”—quoted for posterity, because please.
Rather than offering critique, it opens up a space for examination: an invitation to approach even the most seemingly shallow films with humility—a posture that can transform casual viewings into quiet revelations.
you get it!! thank you for reading, brother 🙏🏾