District 9 (2009)

PERFECT STORIES

DISTRICT 9 (2009)

District 9, co-produced by the visionary Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, King Kong), is the rare example of a sci-fi/action movie with a strong emotional core, and the even rarer example of a story that both makes its moral lesson absolutely plain yet still allows you to discover and grapple with the full impact of that lesson, long after the movie is over. Set in Johannesburg, South Africa in an alternate reality, in approximately the year 2002, District 9 explores the tense détente between humans and an unsightly but technologically advanced race of aliens (derisively referred to as “prawns”), the latter of whom are confined to a rancid, violent ghetto—an obvious metaphor for South African apartheid, and specifically based on an incident involving the forcible relocation of black South Africans from District 6 in 1966. It is a fast-paced, visually attractive, and morally complicated story that raises more questions than it answers and, for these and several other reasons, merits analysis as a “perfect story.”

Getting the obvious out of the way, District 9 features the qualities typical of all successful sci-fi/action movies: short running time (112 minutes, but feels much faster), excellent special effects presented in context, masterful world-building, and solid acting. That the actors are largely unfamiliar to a U.S. audience helps, keeping the viewers’ eyes focused on the story, rather than the performer(s). The movie utilizes a “found footage” method of storytelling which serves it well and also functions, itself, as a sort of meta-commentary on the nature of storytelling; specifically, at the same time as the viewer is watching the supposedly “real” events unfold, the viewer is also being spoon-fed the propaganda used to discredit those events. The movie’s pace, like its protagonist, is frenzied: it is off and running from the first frame and very rarely slows down to breathe.

Much ink has been spilled about District 9’s apartheid metaphor: it’s so obvious and in your face that it shifts the question away from whether it’s trying to make a moral point to what, exactly, is that point? Watching it several times, as I have, one begins to get the impression that the movie’s makers intended several levels of self-reference and, as noted previously, much of the movie’s moral argument occurs on a meta level. The characters inhabit a universe which is both painted in broad strokes and delicately nuanced. Wikus, the protagonist, and Christopher, the alien antagonist (more on how those characters fit those roles later), are complex, well-conceived, and at times unpredictable. The aliens themselves show a degree of psychological complexity, violent in their individual defense but, as a group, broken by humanity’s physical and mental control over them. On the other end of the spectrum, though, are the “soldier” villains of the MNU security forces led by the bigoted Colonel Koobus and the Nigerian gang led by the equally one-note Obesandjo. Given the moral complexity we know the writers are capable of, I cannot help but think that they are in on the joke; that they created the latter two groups of secondary antagonists as a sort of stab in the eye at those who would be inclined to virtue-signal by pointing out their one-dimensional nature in the first place!

But to the bigger point… District 9 is a perfect story because it has a perfect hero’s arc. Rather than try to make its point through lecturing and sermonizing, or setting up straw men, it explores a character’s moral need by forcing him to confront it in a life-or-death, no-holds-barred way. Watching it the first time, I was reminded of the vignette “Time Out” from The Twilight Zone (1983), in which a bigoted man, William Connor, who rails against African-Americans, Asians, and Jews is forced to inhabit the body of an individual from those groups and experience the horrors they face(d) for himself first-hand. But unlike William Connor, who gets hauled off to a concentration camp at the end of “Time Out,” there is a redemption arc for Wikus, the protagonist of District 9. Very little of him remains at the movie’s end—literally and figuratively. He has undergone a complete transformation. For the aspiring writer looking for a prime example of how to build a character arc around a central idea, this story is for you.

Plot and Scene Weave

Ghost/Story world: Through “found footage” and flashback, we learn about the aliens. In 1982, their enormous mother ship came to rest above Johannesburg, South Africa. For the past 20 years, the ship has remained immobile. There is a theory that a mobile command module detached and was lost, but no evidence has been found of it. The aliens, who were either slaves or workers, and apparently leaderless, were “rescued” by humans and placed in a temporary camp, which eventually became a militarized camp called District 9. The resident South Africans have come to despise the aliens, who they think suck up government resources that should be better spent elsewhere. Resentment on both sides has bled over to violence and rioting. The South African government, in a gambit to restore the peace, has decided to hire a company called Multinational United (MNU) a weapons manufacturer, to forcibly relocate the aliens into a new camp, miles from the city. Additionally, crucially, the aliens brought with them extremely potent weapons, which were confiscated by humans, who then discovered, much to their dismay, that only beings with the aliens’ genetic material can wield them. As in my blog on The Dark Crystal (1982), introductory info-dumps like this are acceptable in fantasy/sci-fi genre movies, where the audience needs to know the rules of the world. The more fantastical, technical, or magical, the more leeway you’re permitted to front-load exposition. Here, the filmmakers do a marvelous job of educating you in context, through found footage and faux-news clips.

Protagonist/weakness/need/motive and desire/fake-ally opponent: Wikus is tasked by his father-in-law, Smit, the head of MNU, to serve eviction notices on the aliens, a job he relishes with ghoulish glee, desperate to prove himself to Smit and secure his status within MNU. At one point, trying to prove his toughness, he refuses to wear a mask, saying it’s “for sissies”—a decision that will come back to haunt him in a major way very soon. Wikus is a bureaucratic coward and a bit of an asshole. He derisively refers to the aliens as “prawns,” destroys their eggs for fun, and tricks, manipulates, and even and threatens the aliens into consenting to relocation. The assignment from Smit is in the nature of a gauntlet: Smit wants to see just how far he can push his son-in law. Wikus has clearly married up: his wife, who is his boss’ daughter, is wealthy and stunningly beautiful. I have collectively labeled Smit and MNU as a “fake-ally opponent,” as they are initially supportive of Wikus—but only insofar as he is valuable to them. The MNU security forces led by Koobus talk down to Wikus like schoolyard bullies. The shame and self-loathing he feels, he redirects onto the aliens.

Opponent/mystery: At the same time as Wikus is serving eviction notices, the alien Christopher Johnson, his son (“little Chris”), and their friend Paul are searching a District 9 junkyard for alien technology containing a strange black fluid. Christopher says that 20 years of work is now complete and tells Paul to hide the black fluid, which is inside a silver canister. As the story plays out, Christopher will be revealed to be more of a fake-opponent ally, but for now, he’s Wikus’ primary opponent. There is a nice “save the cat” moment, where Christopher thanks his son for helping him and pats the little guy on the head. It’s endearing and instantly humanizes Christopher. And the black fluid, so prized by the aliens, invites curiosity and speculation. Is it a weapon? Or something more?

Inciting incident: Serving notice on Christopher, Wikus barges into the former’s shack, where he discovers the silver canister and is accidentally sprayed in the face and arm with the black liquid. Christopher and little Chris escape while Koobus violently executes Paul. Further discussion on the characters’ interactions, and its obvious racial metaphor, later.

Mystery: Over the next several hours, Wikus finds his body is breaking down: black fluid draining from his nose, fingernails breaking off, and finally vomiting black liquid and passing out. Probably should’ve worn that mask…

Apparent victory/fake-ally opponent: Wikus returns home to be with his wife, whom he prizes above all else, wanting to put the day’s events behind him, as if he’s successfully completed a rite of passage and can now rest on his laurels. Smit chides him for botching the operation, which resulted in too many alien casualties. Ever prideful, Wikus refuses medical attention until the situation becomes severe. Sharlto Copley’s performance in this role is subtle and understated. He is a man clearly out of his depth, who’s married above his head, is under his father-in-law’s/boss’ thumb, and carries around a great deal of personal turmoil. His bumbling, pencil-neck outward demeanor conceals a volcano of emotion.

First revelation: In the hospital, when unbandaged, Wikus’ arm is revealed to be turning into an alien limb. He is mutating into an alien. The horror on Wikus’ face, and the shock the audience feels, is rooted not so much in the “creature” aspect of this change, but in the revelation that Wikus is literally becoming the thing he hates the most.

First attack by fake-ally opponent: Now that he has alien genetic code and can use alien weapons, Wikus is sent to MNU for tissue harvesting, where at Smit’s directive, he is treated like an animal and forced to kill a live prawn. At this point, all he wants to do is escape and find treatment. As he becomes more alien, Wikus’ humanity and empathy begin to appear.

Counterattack/changed motive and desire/drive: Wikus overpowers MNU and escapes. Desperate to get treatment, he tries to contact his wife, in hopes that she can help him.

Second attack by fake-ally opponent: Smit releases to the media a manufactured story that Wikus was obsessed and sexually active with the aliens and acquired an STD from them.

Apparent defeat: Wikus’ wife, disgusted, severs contact with him. Wikus decides to hide out in District 9. Broken and abandoned, he is reduced to eating cat food from a can and his teeth begin falling out. In the span of a few hours, Wikus has gone from the pinnacle to the nadir. If ever anyone was going to simply give up, this would be the time.

Fake-ally opponent plan/action: Smit dispatches Koobus to hunt Wikus down, so he can be harvested for his alien tissue. Again, here, Smit, Koobus, and MNU form a sort of axis of evil, so I collectively refer to them as “fake-ally opponent”—of course, though, by this time they are openly an “opponent,” though not the primary opponent.

Second revelation/opponent: Wikus chances upon Christopher, who instantly recognizes that the only thing that could have caused Wikus’ transformation is the black fluid. Wikus begs Christopher for help and then passes out. Wikus wakes up in what appears to be a high-tech laboratory beneath Christopher’s shack. Christopher and little Chris reveal that the “laboratory” is actually the mother ship command module, that the black liquid was fuel they were planning to use to pilot the module back up to the mother ship, and that if they can get onto the mother ship, Christopher can reverse the mutation and save Wikus. Christopher is a wonderful character: a sort of brooding genius whose mind is always working and problem-solving. That he has been working tirelessly for 20 years plotting the aliens’ escape speaks to his loyalty and discipline. At the same time, he is never idealized or held up as some sort of “noble savage.” He is an individual with flaws and weaknesses, as well as a powerful drive and admirable goal. Through him, the aliens are “humanized.” For his part, Wikus, having for the first time to speak with an alien as an equal, Wikus first falls back on ingrained prejudice, but soon begins listening to Christopher and treating him with respect.

Third revelation/changed motive and desire: Wikus’ wife unexpectedly calls him, admitting that her father had pressured her to disown Wikus, and giving Wikus just enough hope that she still loves and will wait for him. The phone call gives Wikus something to hold on to for the rest of the story, and after the credits roll, motivating his actions, in part, for the rest of the story.

Third attack by fake-ally opponent: MNU, Smit, and Koobus manage to track Wikus’ location when he’s on the phone with his wife, learning that he’s hiding out in District 9.

Fourth revelation/opponent/moral affirmation: Christopher and little Chris, terrified of going to the new facility, have a conversation about going to their home planet. They lament that they cannot reach it since the fuel was lost. Wikus admits that the new facility is really a concentration camp. This is a shockingly real and raw moment, where you see the humanity of the aliens and what they, in their mind, are striving for. While the moral affirmation usually comes towards the end of the story, if not the very end, here, Wikus’ revelation to the aliens in the middle of the story stands as a barometer of just how far he’s come in such short time, that he now feels empathy for the beings he used to have contempt for.

Plan/action/drive: Knowing that both he and Christopher can use alien weapons, Wikus devises a plan to infiltrate MNU to retrieve the fuel. He approaches the Nigerian gang about buying weapons. Obesandjo, the leader of the Nigerians, orders Wikus’ arm cut off so he can eat it, thereby gaining the strength of the aliens. Wikus uses an alien weapon to fight through the Nigerians, steal their weapons, and escape. As noted previously, the Nigerian gang is blandly—even offensively—one-note, sort of a racist caricature of the mafia. Given the subtlety and nuance with which the rest of the movie’s subjects are treated, I can only conclude that this is intentional self-satire.

Plan/action/drive: As Smit and Koobus plot to extract Wikus alive, Wikus and Christopher infiltrate MNU to recover the fuel, where Christopher is horrified to discover that MNU has been conducting cruel, gruesome experiments on other aliens. This scene starts out almost comical. Wikus and Christopher talk to each other like buddy cops and you can see a genuine rapport developing. Then, the scene takes on an ominous tone when Christopher discovers the carnage of his kind. This further humanizes Christopher, as he feels powerful empathy for others—so much so that he is willing to completely change his plans.

Fifth revelation/attack by opponent/changed motive and desire/fourth attack by fake-ally opponent: Christopher reveals it will take 3 years to fix Wikus’ arm because, having seen the dead aliens and determined not to let his people suffer further, Christopher now plans to return to his home planet and get help before fixing Wikus. Christopher promises to help Wikus. Wikus, feeling betrayed and seeing no choice but to try to force Christopher’s hand, knocks him out, as Koobus and the security forces close in. Here is where Wikus’ and Christopher’s opposition, and the modality by which Wikus ultimately redeems himself, takes form. Christopher must prioritize the well-being of his race over Wikus’ individual problem, but he promises on his honor to fix Wikus. Wikus, desperate to transform immediately, has little immediate empathy for the aliens as a race. He continues to prioritize his own problem over the large-scale plight of the alien race, so much so that he jeopardizes both issues’ being resolved.

Counterattack/action: Activating the command module, Wikus saves Christopher from Koobus, but Koobus orders the command module shot down. Wikus and Christopher are captured, leaving little Chris inside the damaged command module. Wikus’ complexity and humanity are apparent here. He is not yet acting out of altruism and nobility. Christopher simply represents a better alternative than Koobus. Given the lightning-fast change in circumstances, his self-interested recalculation is equally instantaneous. This is good writing.

Gate, gauntlet and visit to death/battle: The Nigerian gang ambushes the security forces and drags Wikus to Obesandjo. The Nigerians and security forces exchange fire while Obesandjo tries to amputate Wikus’ arm. Little Chris, attempting to repair the command module, manages to reactivate the alien mother ship and the aliens’ weapons, destroying the Nigerians. Seeing Christopher tortured by the security forces, Wikus dons an alien robot suit and attacks the security forces to save Christopher and help him get back to the command module. As Wikus covers Christopher’s escape, risking his life, Christopher promises to return to fix Wikus in 3 years. This is the weakest part of the film, a garden-variety sci-fi shoot-‘em up. The Nigerians and the MNU security forces are dispatched perfunctorily and gruesomely. Wikus, who has the opportunity to let MNU kill Christopher, risks his own life on the faith that Christopher will return to fix him. He is willing to wait 3 years. He has no reason to trust Christopher; he could probably just as easily hold him at gunpoint and force him to fix him now. But, having walked a mile in the shoes of a “prawn,” Wikus has been gifted with empathy, and understands why it’s so important that Christopher succeed in his mission to save the other aliens.

New equilibrium: Wikus has turned into a “prawn.” He continues to leave gifts for his wife. She continues to hold hope that Wikus will return to her. Wikus continues to hold faith that Christopher will return. An uneasy alignment of schadenfreude and hope pervade this final sequence. On one hand, you might be tempted to believe that Wikus got what he deserved, like William Connor at the end of “Time Out.” But, at the same time, you recognize that Wikus has changed—in more ways than one—and that no matter what the future holds, his “humanity” has been restored. Will Christopher return? Does it really matter?

Final Observations

The theme of prejudice (specifically, racism) is ubiquitous throughout District 9. As noted earlier, this theme is both obvious and has been fully-explored elsewhere, and I have little to add. I will, however, note that this movie does an exceedingly good job of showing how prejudice is not always big and blatant, but often simple “micro-aggressions.” The word “prawn,” for example, is contemptuous and suggests a bottom feeder. In the movie, humans speak about “prawns” in monolithic terms, as if they were all the same, and that the actions of one ought to be imputed to them all. As Wikus and MNU serve notice in the opening scenes, it is obvious that they have no regard for the aliens’ dignity and view them as sub-human creatures unworthy of respect: an alien’s scrawl on the eviction waiver is said to count as a signature; aliens are tricked into agreeing to eviction when tempted with food and threatened with having their children taken away; and the MNU security forces provoke the aliens, then blame them when things threaten to escalate into a firefight. At one point, the aliens are described as leaderless drones who have no ability to think independently and will respond to whatever force is used against them. As we get to know the characters, we learn that, in fact, one of the aliens, Christopher, is a leader and is exceedingly capable.

There is no speechifying or lecturing in District 9. The film’s dialogue is simple and transactional. The word most frequently heard is “fuck,” shouted over and over again. There is no Hallmark moment glorification of diversity. There is no Pollyanish effort to portray the aliens as kind and gentle beings simply misunderstood by humans. Both humans and aliens are portrayed as imperfect, morally complex, capable of both great compassion and terrible savagery. But in the end, the protagonist comes to learn that, in fact, one of the groups has gotten it far worse than the other, and that he is complicit in this. And while Wikus never gives up hope that he will be made human again, and that his wife awaits, he has seemingly accepted that there are larger wrongs that need to be righted before his personal needs can be attended to. May we all aspire to such an ending: not happy, but perhaps necessary.

If you are interested in an in-depth assessment of a project you are working on, or to retain my services as a developmental editor, please feel free to comment below or e-mail me at toddgmonahan@live.com. 

And finally, as I cannot wish you happy writing, since writing so often is decidedly not happy, I wish for you that that tiny light at the end of the tunnel gets a little bit brighter every day.

T. G. Monahan