The poison that permeates the District 9 is the same toxin that has defined so much of human history: The oppression of the Other. In this case, that means scaly aliens with feelers for faces who are confined to South African-style “townships,” and who, in director-writer Neill Blomkamp’s allegorical thrill ride, represent every tyrannized population since the institution of the pogrom. A sci-fi fueled indictment of man’s inhumanity to man, and the non-human, District 9 is all horribly familiar, and transfixing.
Taking an obvious metaphor for apartheid as a mere jumping-off point, District 9 is set in Blomkamp’s hometown of Johannesburg, South Africa, where 20 years earlier a spaceship appeared above the city and mysteriously stopped. Humans “rescued” the starving alien creatures inside it and rounded them up in an area called District 9, which quickly morphed into a slum where Nigerian gangsters prey off the aliens, given the derogatory but accurate nickname “prawns.” The time has finally come for the government agency/weapons manufacturer MNU to relocate District 9 further from the city, and put in charge of the operation is bureaucratic dweeb Wikus Van De Merwe, a guy who married the boss’s daughter and has spent the rest of his life happily pushing pencils in a larger-than-average cubicle.
As he serves eviction notices to the prawns who live in the assorted shacks, Wikus takes delight in firebombing alien eggs and wielding his authority like a particularly obnoxious weapon. But when he comes afoul of a mysterious substance cooked up by an alien named, for some reason, Christopher Johnson, Wikus almost immediately begins a transformation into the world’s first human-alien hybrid. After the government initially tries to slice him up for research and weapons development, Wikus escapes and takes refuge in the only hiding place he has left: District 9.
In a crisp, rapid-fire setup, the movie establishes how the ominous mother-ship came to a halt in the sky over Johannesburg, then sat motionless for months as earthly authorities pondered what to do. In frustration and desperation, a team was sent to cut its way into the ship, where the alien passengers were found weak and malnourished. Taken to the ground, but having no way back to the ship, the aliens became a sub-population of unwanted immigrants, whose disgusting looks and strange appetites make them a collective object of fear and loathing. As we reach the film’s version of present day, the history has led to a crackdown, replete with evictions, violence and internment.
District 9 is the rare arms and ammo flick in which the central human performance is as high-caliber as the hardware. Acting newcomer Sharlto Copley, as Wikus, gives a performance that is nothing short of tour de force. Wikus has gotten his job through his father-in-law, the head of the evil MNU (MultiNational United). He has no leadership abilities whatsoever; in carrying out the evictions of the aliens, Wikus demonstrates that he is, in fact, a natural coward. He’s the kind of bureaucratic creature who overuses his authority because it’s all he’s got. He’s despicable. And Copley’s portrayal is precise and true. That he manages to make Wikus a hero, however marginal, is close to miraculous.
The film soars largely because Blomkamp has put a great deal of thought into his vision. He knows exactly how humanity would react to such developments and the ways in which politics, bigotry and the horrible detritus of “it seemed like a good idea at the time” can bedevil an initially simple situation. Earthlings appear quite monstrous in his eyes, (certainly worse than the aliens we mistreat) and yet District 9 holds out hope for something better. At its core, it tells us we can improve … no matter how tragic and difficult that path may be.
Beyond that, it’s just a colossal hoot. Shades of producer Peter Jackson’s early splatter films appear in the various set pieces, tinged with more sophisticated cynicism to create absurd (and absurdly violent) clashes amid the slums. WETA provides decent effects made all the more convincing for the unique imagery they invoke. Shots of prawns hunting through garbage cans and squabbling over cans of cat food attain a visceral plausibility which elevate the obvious (though impressive) CGI content far beyond that of similar efforts. By the time all hell breaks loose at the end, we think we’ve seen everything it has to show us… and yet even then, District 9 finds a way to turn expectations on their ears. The finale ranks among the best pieces of cinematic mayhem all year, bolstered by a quiet coda which may leave mist in the eyes of more than a few hardened fanboys.
District 9 was supposed to be another tired Man Versus Scary Alien late summer crap-fest. Actually, when you think about the plot, it really should be a crap-fest. District 9 has absolutely no business being A Good Film. But, yet, here it is and here we are. We: the late summer movie going audience desperately seeking out … something, anything; one last eensy weensy morsel of precious, precious entertainment to use as an excuse to get out of the wretched heat of a mid-August sun . It: not content to be just A Good Film, but, rather, A Great Film. And, on certain levels, maybe even An Important Film. It’s far too early in the year (seriously) to say that District 9 is the best movie of the year; however, it is very easy to say that it’s the best movie of the summer.
Because it is.