Final Project Proposal

The proliferation of the apocalypse in film has been a recurring interest of mine – as a concept so explicitly linked to notions of religion, spirituality, and postmodernism, its existence in movies can help to illuminate the inherent dualisms that can both inhibit and magnetize the power of the End of Days as a construct.  The way the myth is treated cinematically serves as a reflection of contemporaneous times and the anxieties that reside within our society.  In the mid 1980s, amidst waning Cold-War ideals and increasing globalized cultures, the apocalyptic film climate was rife with contemporaneous real-world inspirations, and the three films I will focus on exhibit a distinct sense of timeliness in their portrayal of the End of the World.

In August and September of 1984, two films were released in the United States and the United Kingdom, respectively, that presented radically divergent portraits of the end of the world.  The first film, John Milius’ Red Dawn, is a hyperbolic ode to anti-Communism and American nationalism that distinctly combined the trappings of a teen movie with the rabid violence of an epic war saga.  Red Dawn is without a doubt an elaboration of popular Cold-War era American attitudes of the time, and it represents a unique perspective on the land of the free as it might exist after a full-scale invasion – of Cubans and Soviets, nonetheless.  A little over a month later, Mick Jackson’s BBC telefilm Threads was broadcast in households throughout the United Kingdom.  The film operates on an entirely contrasting level that differentiates it significantly from Red Dawn’s Hollywoodized, populist overtones – it is an incredibly brutal, hopeless, and suffering portrayal of nuclear war, and its aesthetic style that borrows heavily from documentary film expounds its innate blend of bleak realism and prophetic warnings.  The two films’ antithetical motivations speak not only to their national affiliation but also to a more implicit divergence in prevailing social attitudes that became more pronounced as the Cold War drew to an end.  Less than a year after the release of Red Dawn and Threads, Geoff Murphy’s The Quiet Earth entered the apocalyptic cultural lexicon as a New Zealand film oddity that relishes in the silent, endless irrevocability of an ambiguous Doomsday.  As another reference point in the apocalyptic discourse of the day, its unconventional aesthetic and treatment of the subject shows a marked departure from both previous films.  Its release in a less turbulent time also is a reflection on its depiction of the apocalypse that strays from placing blame on those responsible, a characteristic that sets it apart from both Red Dawn and Threads and welcomes it into a more postmodern version of the concept.

Decades are defined in mostly irrelevant generalizations, and as such, analyzing a time periods as it pertains to these films is largely unhelpful.  However, in terms of apocalyptic fiction, the time period is ripe with references and cultural markers of a fascination with the apocalyptic myth and its trappings.  I intend to analyze the films themselves, in a historical context that is less concerned with theory and more with the direct implications of their existence in the media of the day.  When applied analytically, the rapid succession of these three films on a chronological scale is hardly coincidental.  The presence of three incredibly divergent portraits of the apocalypse between 1984 and 1985 help to illuminate a fascinating reality of a time period that approached the End with a fearlessness and sense of subjectivity, not to mention the residual power all three films have had on the consciousness of modern-day viewers.  What can these three film’s existence illuminate about the world during that time and the way developed, highly Westernized nations embraced highly opposing popular depictions of the apocalypse?  From a sociological standpoint, all three are pertinent in the examination of that period’s treatment of the matter.  Ultimately, my paper will focus more on the stylistic trappings of these three films as cinematic visions of the apocalypse – dense historical context would prove too lengthy for this assignment.  I will use history as a parallel point in my analysis.

Aside from obvious literary allusions, the year 1984 was a prime year for apocalyptic belief – shortly after the release of Red Dawn, Mikhail Gorbachev was instituted as the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and less than two years after The Quiet Earth was released, he announced perestroika.  Without a doubt, the Cold War had evolved into something very different from when it began – and while concerns for outright nuclear war were lessening, the countries directly involved were undeniably changed as the world lumbered towards the new millennium.  A year before Gorbachev’s election, the Soviet Union boycotted the Olympics in Los Angeles.  One day after the release of Red Dawn, President Ronald Reagan was broadcast via radio during a sound check, jokingly saying “ My fellow Americans, I’m pleased to tell you today that I’ve signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever.  We begin bombing in five minutes.”  A month after the release of Threads, The Provisional Irish Republican Army attempted to assassinate Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and members of the Cabinet in the Brighton hotel bombing.  In an official statement by the IRA released that day, the organization stated its intentions succinctly, saying, “Today we were unlucky.  But remember – we only have to be lucky once.  You have to be lucky all of the time.”  In November of 1985, Reagan and Gorbachev met for the first time in Geneva, a symbolic gesture that was seen as a signifier of hope.  The complex dualisms and cultural nuance displayed by these three films is underlined by their link to modern chronology and the final years of the Cold War.  The relationship between these films and their times of release is not causal nor does it imply correlation between pervading attitudes – the link is far subtler and merits thorough analysis from multiple levels.

As art, entertainment, and objects of their time, these three apocalyptic films comment on highly different but temporally parallel themes, producing a multilayered capsule into a specific junction in the development of the Apocalypse myth and its relevance to contemporary society.  For the creative portion of my project, I intend to “brand” these films for a more discretionary contemporary audience.  Their messages are still pertinent today, particularly amidst the glut of blockbuster films that address such a weighty concept in disjointed, music-video style editing, a fetish for computer-generated imagery, and a lack of concern for meaningful portrayals.  Specifically, I would like to create posters and accompanying press material for a hypothetical screening of these films in the modern day, focusing on their disparate tones and underlying messages.   I plan to produce these materials using a blend of creative means from digital imagery to more traditional techniques, like paint and pencil, and the completed portion will include reimagined trailers, posters, and supplementary media.  Because of their link to a specific mindset, the challenge in the creative portion will involve my own attempt to translate their message to a contemporary perspective.

For sources, I would use Rosen’s Apocalyptic Transformation to link the postmodern tendencies displayed in all three movies, but for specific analyses, I need to dig a little deeper.  Any suggestions would be appreciated.