Journey to the Center of the Mirth

Recently I had the pleasure of watching Brendan Fraser’s well-defined acting muscle flex vigorously in 3-D. Oh, excuse me, “Real D”. I am speaking of Journey to the Center of the Earth in 3-D. The film was shot on a state-of-the-art stereoscopic 3-D camera that was designed in part by James Cameron. This camera is also being used to shoot Cameron’s upcoming iris-exploding 3-D epics, Avatar and Battle Angel, which sound promising and don’t have anything to do with the Titanic, thank god. If for nothing else, this movie was a great indication of what gifts the hallowed harbingers of technological wizardry are going to bear in Cameron’s next films. However, the journey itself inspired a personal discovery that lead deep into my own center of untamed thoughts where gargantuan, harebrained species of musings prowl and prey on reason and logic.

The opening credits were shot into our faces like pearl bullets from a merciless bukake firing squad. Nearly everyone in the theater, myself included, waved their hands around in front of their faces for an obscene amount of time, pawing the buttery bile-saturated air like cats swatting dangling string. There was a prevailing, unifying atmosphere of kinesthetic comradery in the theater, where everyone reacted in unison and taught sinews made synchronized flinches in an attempt to lunge backward and escape as Brendan Fraser spit out toothpaste onto our grills. It was strangely reminiscent of the first Lumiere films screened in 1895 where theatergoers reportedly fled from the theater in hysteria, anticipating the barreling train on the screen to come crashing through the wall and flatten them all. Now, a mere 113 years later, our reactions and the cinematic manipulations aren’t that terribly different. Instead of trains we now have anglerfish, tape measures, and Brendan Fraser’s biceps.

Overall, the film was just one clay plate being fired after another. I haven’t had that many things thrown at my face since I was reprimanded by my parents for gambling away most of my earthly possessions in a Pokemon card trade. Brendan Fraser was larger than life as always, as were the immense pauses he made between words. “ Ladies. And. Gentlemen. I. Give. You. The center. Of the. Earth!” “ A. Paleolithic. Dildo?” “ Giant. Fossilized. Mushrooms?” Well, one of those lines isn’t actually in the movie. Let’s make a game of it, guess which one!

I must say though, my one real gripe with the movie came during a somber scene between Brendan Fraser and his nephew when they discover (SPOILER AMBER ALERT!!!) that Brendan’s brother, the father of his nephew, died during his stay in the warm, chocolaty center of the earth. They embrace each other tenderly and start weeping, but I was left wondering why the camera didn’t switch to an extreme low angle so their tears could thrillingly plummet onto my tongue (which was already extended out in anxious anticipation). Speaking of crying, Reid was almost driven to tears by the sheer number of Newton’s Laws that were being systematically drawn and quartered throughout the movie, with only their lifeless, severed limbs left to twitch beautifully in 3-D. Despite the hulking venus flytraps hissing violently on-screen and Brendan Fraser dealing out haymakers indiscriminately to them, I was completely transfixed by Reid’s despair and sat there wishing to myself that I could appreciate it more in Real D. The absurdity of this idea followed soon after, realizing that we see in 3-D as it is. But this brought up a tantalizing possibility. We may see in 3-D, but do we see in “Real D”, or more appropriately, Surreal D©?

Conventional 3-D vision is so banal. I think the next reasonable paradigm shift with vision is Surreal D. I don’t get the visual foreplay from someone pointing at me like I do in Journey. In Journey, the subtlest of gestures becomes an imposing declaration of war on your body and comfort zone. As the film demonstrates, a tape measure or Brendan Fraser’s saliva can be turned into an effective, entertaining weapon against the audience. So, what if Surreal D technology was applied to everyday life and vision, vision 2.0 if you will? Let us conveniently ignore the logistics of this technology and instead focus on the benefits.

I think people would devote so much more attention to certain things and appreciate them tenfold, no mater how pointless, ridiculous, or tediously boring they are. It certainly worked for this movie. Just picture employee training videos, wakes, sports, motion graphics-riddled commercials, raising children, spanking said children, community service, purgatory, bathing, election coverage, and church in Surreal D. Storytime at church would be accompanied by flying sheets on strings whenever the holy ghost is mentioned, and a massive payload of blue bouncy balls would be released from the ceiling upon the slightest mention of The Great Flood. I think this futuristic concept can be very succinctly illustrated by the song “Your Own Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode, you really will want to “reach out and touch faith.” The body of Christ being extended toward you would truly be a feast for the eyes. On a side note, whatever the hell are those Christ crackers? I always wondered as a boy if priests open up new boxes of them to eat if they happen to have a biblical appetite at the time.

Maybe they would begrudgingly sacrifice a lamb or some small, defenseless animal every week to satiate the bloodlust of parishioners who want to see blood flying past them in Surreal D. Perhaps they would even go a step further and save up a month’s worth of sacrifice blood and on one Sunday have it rain down on the congregation from sprinklers while they all rave, grind, and crack cross-shaped glowsticks, all to honor the Sabbath of course. And I guarantee when the collection basket came around, at least 3 or 4 times in each service someone would slap it up into the air just so everyone could enjoy the spectacle of coins raining down. With vision 2.0, you can get God 2.0 and next-gen Jesus for no additional cost. Consider how much more stimulating, appealing, and sexy church could be with just a simple plastic frame resting on the bridge of your nose. But I still wouldn’t go. I don’t think this would be a good idea for Baptist churches though. That would just be horrifying. The swaying of hips, the incessant clapping of hands. You would either be unequivocally converted or driven to madness.

We can all learn a lot from Journey, our modern day messiah, Brendan Fraser, and even Doom 3 that the advent and application of new technological veneers can make old things new every time.