District 9

District 9

“No Humans Allowed”

Alien movies aren’t usually my favorite, but I love free screenings and I’ll go see anything for free. To be honest, I’d probably go see anything even if I’m paying. I knew very little about this particular movie I’d scored free passes for this past Thursday, but I’ll admit, I was intrigued; as was my date for the evening…my husband.

We left the house early, thinking it’d give us time to talk...sounded like a great idea, until I found out the A/C in my husband’s truck wasn’t working. 85 degrees meant we’d have to drive with the windows down; to make sure we heard each other, there was very little talking and a whole lotta yelling. He shouted about his day, I screamed back about mine. Obviously, I’ll take conversation any way I can get it.

Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with the theater’s A/C, so we were able to speak to each other in a normal tone while we stood in line. I never know what to expect with these free screenings. I’ve gotten to one less than 30 minutes prior and have gotten in just fine. I’ve been in line an hour early for others and wasn’t able to see the movie because the theater was full. The line for District 9 had already started. I got my phone out to text a friend who was supposed to join us to let her know she’d better hurry. Busted!! One of the suits standing in front of the entry way announced loudly, “There will be NO cell phones allowed in the theater. If you have a cell phone, please take it to your car or it will be confiscated.”

My husband looked at me. “You’re kidding?”

I shrugged. “They always say that. They don’t want anyone recording the movie.”

My husband laughed. “My piece of crap phone doesn’t even have video and I can prove it.” Off he went to speak to the suits. Back in two minutes, he asked for my phone. “I’m taking them out to the car. Guy’s a jerk.” I felt a little panicky handing over my cell phone. But…what if….an emergency…??? My husband was already on the phone calling our oldest son to make sure he’d be available to the kids at home. Just in case.

The line started moving in to the theater before he got back. My purse was searched—if you call opening it so the suit can glance inside being searched—I wished I’d just stuck my phone at the bottom of m purse as I was being scanned with a metal detecting wand. They really do take these screenings seriously. I can’t imagine what someone did to encourage such policies. Who would rather watch a movie recorded on someone’s cell phone rather than go to the theater to see it?

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been close enough to plenty of teenagers who sat there texting throughout a movie while their cell phone screen shined a very bright light in my face. I heard a cell phone ring Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train once during a death scene and I’ve heard people say hello and explain—three times, getting louder and louder each time—that they couldn’t talk because they were at the movies. It’s very annoying. But, when you’re a parent and your children are with a sitter—or, in our case, one child with special needs at home being supervised by an older sibling—that cell phone becomes a bit of a security blanket; one we don’t want to leave home without.

My husband finally made it into the theater, carrying our cokes and popcorn. We settled into our seats and made small talk with our theater neighbors…mostly about cell phones being confiscated. “I feel naked without my cell phone,” said one man. “I’d rather be naked than without my cell phone,” said another. We laughed…and hoped an emergency wouldn’t arise at home.

The movie starts. I immediately get a Cloverfield/Blair Witch Project vibe and I wasn’t sure I liked it. That shaky camera action tends to give me motion sickness. If I’d known I would’ve taken some Dramamine.

The story tells of an alien ship that is hovering over Johannesburg, South Africa for twenty years. The inhabitants of the ship have been living under the mothership for just as long in the slum-like shacks referred to as District 9. Wikus Van De Merwe has just been promoted and assigned the unpleasant task of serving eviction notices to the aliens as they are being moved to a different area where they will be living in tents…suggesting something of a concentration camp atmosphere. Wikus seems to be a lovely, if somewhat simple man, however, he isn’t the most compassionate of people as he goes door-to-door (followed by a camera man) serving the notices.

Twenty minutes into the movie, I wanted to leave. I started to feel like there was some sort of political agenda being served. I felt like the filmmakers were trying to compare these otherworldly aliens with the illegal immigrants who flee from their own countries to make their homes in another where they aren’t welcome. Personal opinion of such discrimination aside, how can you compare a human being to the walking cockroach/lobster-looking alien species? I felt manipulated. I’d had my fill of popcorn by then, I could take my diet coke with me. I was ready to go. But, I decided to wait it out. See what happens.

What happens, is poor Wikus oversteps some personal boundaries, puts his mitts where he shouldn’t and gets sprayed with some a foreign substance belonging to the aliens. His main concern is that this embarrassing little situation has been caught on tape and he will be humiliated if it’s shown. Little does he know…

Wikus was on top of the world with his recent promotion, but it’s just gone downhill from there. He’s embarrassed himself, he’s hurt his arm and he’s getting the flu. Probably not a good day for a surprise party to celebrate that promotion. Too bad!

Wikus’ biggest surprise comes when his wife takes him to the hospital and his wounded arm is unwrapped. It seems that the fluid Wikus was exposed to is slowly changing his DNA. Changing Wikus. He is half human, half alien. Wikus is horrified, but government officials are ecstatic. For twenty years they’ve been trying to figure out how to use the aliens’ awesome weaponry. Weapons that don’t work for anyone but the aliens…and now, Wikus Van De Merwe. Wikus is suddenly the most valuable man on earth. With little regard for this man’s life, they start planning how they can harvest his DNA in order to use the alien weapons for their own desires. Wikus is no more than a donor to them. They inform his family that he is dying.

Wikus escapes from those who mean him harm, but has nowhere to turn. After some exploitative National Enquirer-ish stories—with pictures—are shared, even his wife turns against him. There’s only one place to go. District 9.

Wikus’ presence is not well-received. The man who has unsympathetically tried to evict each and every one of the aliens is now asking for their help? It’s only human nature that they would be less than willing. But, they aren’t exactly human, are they?

The rest of the movie is somewhat formulaic, but very visually entertaining. The special effects team proved their abilities with some pretty gruesome fight scenes. And, I had to appreciate the lack of long, drawn out death scenes…BOOM you’re dead was about as dramatic as it got.

There were no recognizable actors in this movie. And, while that’s sometimes a recipe for disaster, in this case it really wasn’t. The actors did a great job and seemed very believable in their roles. As it came to an end, I wasn’t sure what to think. While I’m hesitant to admit the similarities of the aliens to situations that have affected humans (think Holocaust and Apartheid), I was forced to admit, it made me consider them…and the illegal immigrants that reside in my own country today.

The movie was just okay for me. Not great, but not bad, either. Interesting, to say the least.

My husband and shared our thoughts on the way to the car, but all conversation stopped as we reached for our cell phones and nervously checked for missed calls. “Three missed calls from home,” my husband worriedly announced.

My momagination kicked in. You know, it’s what happens to a mom when her teenage son is late getting home and she imagines him laying in a ditch somewhere, or when a mom sees three missed calls from home and thinks someone must’ve gotten hurt and they called us before the ambulance. What? Don’t tell me I’m the only one!

Anway, upon further investigation, there was also three text messages from our teen daughter asking if she could spend the night with her best friend…evidently that was the emergency. A phone call proved the latter correct and we headed home, windows down, shouting all the way.

Next time I’m driving.

Bottom Line: Alien, Cloverfield and The Fly had a baby. They named it District 9 and it suffered much discrimination.