While offering up one of the smarter political allegories to hit theaters in a long time, after an imaginative and compelling opening based on an imaginative and compelling premise, the second half of “District 9” doesn’t live up. The idea-bottom drops completely out of what was looking to be a potential sci-fi classic when the story suddenly turns and devolves into a B-grade, actioner – most of it photographed by that infernal shaky-cam, which is guilty of ruining more movies than Julia Roberts.
High above Johannesburg, South Africa, a lifeless spaceship hovers in the haze. No one knows where it came from or how it got there and for a while everyone seems content to wait for something to happen. But as time passes and nothing does, a decision is made to investigate. Once inside, investigators find the ship’s cargo: thousands upon thousands of alien beings who will come to be known as “Prawns.”
Twenty years pass and by now it’s become obvious that these 1.8 million aliens are unable to care for themselves or integrate into human society. Like animals, they scour garbage piles for food, are hostile towards equally hostile citizens and have had to be segregated in District 9, a ghettoized internment camp guarded by Multi-National United (MNU), a private corporation involved in everything from military contracting to medical experimentation.
As tensions continue to rise between human and alien, MNU builds District 10, a camp settled 240km from the city. Charged with overseeing what amounts to a forced relocation and creating an appearance of bureaucratic legality around it, is Wikus Van De Merwes (Sharlto Copley), a marginal man with ambitions that are only fulfilled because his father-in-law happens to be the boss.
Van De Merwes’ Inspector Clouseau-ish demeanor disguises a sadistic streak that unfolds quickly as he, his subordinates and a platoon of heavily-armed MNU enforcers roll into District 9. An intimidating show of force backs Van De Mewes up as he knocks on the doors of shacks made from salvaged scrap and with clipboard in hand “asks” for a voluntary authorization to relocate.
This bureaucratic boondoggle immediately increases tensions giving MNU Mercenaries all the excuse they need to shoot uncooperative Prawns as the hapless Van Der Mewes takes great delight in aborting Prawn fetuses. What we’re initially led to believe is something more akin to animal cruelty changes abruptly when Christopher Johnson arrives, a Prawn with a brain, a plan and a vial of rocket fuel that sprays Van Der Mewes in the face and seals both their fates.
The story offers a number of unanswered questions that draw you in (where do the aliens come from?) but too many others that frustrate (why is Christopher Johnson so much more intelligent than his Prawn counterparts?). Whereas the lack of an origin story only builds the mystery, a single capable Prawn out of nearly two million comes off as a lazy, frustrating plot contrivance.
But nothing’s as lazy as the film’s last half which abruptly shrugs off all the originality that came before in exchange for a predictable plot that has “the hero” breaking into a thing to get a thing to make another thing work and save the day. Worse still, this disappointing boilerplating looks like it was filmed during a seizure and edited in a blender. For forty-minutes you’ll find yourself in that numbed stupor (interrupted only by watch-checking) that’s becoming an increasingly common experience at the movies these days.
For both political and visual reasons, Johannesburg works as a unique and fascinating backdrop. It’s immediately apparent that the story’s physical scope will be somewhat contained for budgetary reasons (though the special effects are seamless), but ambitious introductory themes and allegory initially lift the narrative above the television movie feel that eventually takes over.
What “District 9” is and wants to be “about” is wisely left up to the viewer. The simplest guess is a rehashing of South African apartheid, but with that outrage long past this seems unlikely. After all, even more brutal than the mostly-white MNU is a bottom-feeding Nigerian gang who exploit and abuse the Prawn, going so far as to murder and eat them in their pagan voodoo rituals.
To producer Peter Jackson’s and director, co-writer Neill Blomkamp’s credit, the message could be as broad as “Be Nice to Each Other,” as Leftist as the “plight” of the Palestinians or something more sensible like the story of the Jews before the founding of Israel, life in Afghanistan had Gore succeeded in stealing Florida, a condemnation of Communism or even abortion.
Unfortunately, the weak story can’t journey a single one of these intriguing ideas towards any kind of satisfying conclusion. But a second chance seems inevitable. Thanks to an inconclusive ending and a strong opening weekend we can expect a “District 9” sequel pretty soon.
Let’s just hope the script’s smarter and someone budgets a tri-pod for the cinematographer.
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