In hindsight, perhaps the oddest thing about ‘District 9’ – and there are so many very, very odd things to choose from – comes not from the film itself but the manner of its marketing. London residents will no doubt have seen the phone boxes emblazoned with faux-warnings to “non-humans”, a campaign which is effective, but also clearly something of a triage manoeuvre, a response to the lack of any name actors and the strange stylistic affectations that begin the film. What is odd about this street advertising, as well as the trailer and poster, is that the film itself is stuffed (over-stuffed, really) with digital creatures, massive explosions, running firefights and gory deaths: exactly the kinds of things that sell movies, but here come as something of a surprise.
In the manner of Brian DePalma’s ‘Redacted’, the first act uses documentary footage and interviews to sketch out a world in which a massive alien spaceship has come to rest above Johannesburg, the immigrants on board interned into an unpleasant slum near the city, mistreated by officials, and economically abused by Nigerian warlords. So far, so bracing. The staging and cutting of this first act, while not wholly convincing, certainly grabs the attention. Considering the allegorical tone the low IQ levels of the aliens (insensitively called ‘prawns’) is potentially offensive, but the bureaucratic, ad hoc, and callous response of the South African government is invigoratingly realistic.
Slyly, and almost imperceptibly, the film shifts out of this documentary mode, but is still filmed in a hand-held, naturalistic manner, even while the plot becomes increasingly formulaic and hole-ridden.
Touching heavily, but not probingly, on issues of immigration, racism, and (non-existent) corporate humanity, ‘District 9’ suffers from indulging in its own baser instincts. Several dozen people are violently eviscerated in the course of the staggeringly action-packed second half, and the influence of producer Peter Jackson begins to be felt in the ‘Braindead’-esque zaniness of the combat, as well as the continued punishment metered out to the protagonist (indeed, for all the prosthetics on show, Sharlto Copley’s transformation from hapless office lackey to hapless action hero is the most spectacular).
The acting and effects are grounded in a way that gives the running-jumping-shooting an excitement not found in, say, the ‘Transformers’ films, but director Neill Blomkamp seems overly enamoured of this advantage. Watch the film expecting a rich tale of racial antagonism and you will, ultimately, be disappointed. Better to expect a piece of blockbuster entertainment which fudges together ‘The Office’, ‘Alien Nation’, and ‘Battletech,’ which – bizarre as it sounds – just about works.
