Planet Of The Grapes

Sitting silently within the first three rows at the movie theatre makes me feel like a fly on a glaring, warm television screen; what a blessing it is that most people hate the front rows. I dig it quiet, which is why I usually go alone. The cellphone gets shut off and I surrender to the moment almost sanctimoniously–siddharthaing the shadows, slouching in the seat like a marbled David.

The motion picture consisted of talking apes and their revolt against the human race. The charismatic leader, blunt and terse, carefully chessed out his moves whilst wanting peace and tried terribly at mending a prior betrayal of said adversary.

Scripted with half-awake writers, no doubt, the story nevertheless unfolded with seething simians in the snowy mountains of pined-wherevers. The first few minutes are awarded to the consequential computer animation and then quickly stolen by the sublimity of the earth’s landscape in the background. Snow fell gently, gargantuan trees, cold grey-blue skies, and a moving film score by Michael Giacchino that inspired me deeply to throw away my music instruments. One could easily hear Ennio Morricone’s influence coming through in stereo–at other times–Danny Elfman, but also delivering something epic and heartrending.

I couldn’t help but to be engaged by the message at the core of the film begging for equality for all living things. Yes, it made me wonder what reaction the movie would have produced if the animals were cows or chickens instead of chimpanzees. Monkeys with machines guns truly painted the picture of nature’s need to retaliate against man’s constant abuse. Although, I highly doubt most people will see past the ethical implications, an excuse to get out of the heat is good enough to cool the otherwise babbling baboons, I suppose.

A little blonde girl stole part of the show with her wordless message: “we are one in the same.” She can’t speak as it is part of a disease that is wiping out the human race. And with gentle gestures, she showed her hairy cousins affection, compassion and finally–love.

The movie almost implies that the anthropoidal protagonist would sacrifice himself for the rest of his brethren, and he was willing–but he survives and it pleased me knowing he would live and not be a cliched martyr figure; for death is the ultimate abstinence and life, the great indulgence.

 

Watching an avalanche make a powerful appearance at the end of the picture as it crushed man underneath it with ease, broke many a tree, and roared in raving retribution, made me realize what a powerful force nature can be. And although I am my own god, an Itheist, I feel a profound reverence for the planet I call home.

 

This being my world, me–Adrian Vino, a truly a narcissistic deity, I also want to share it equally with the endless myriad of beautiful and eccentric creatures that make this spinning orb such a heavenly paradise.

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