The Rock-afire Explosion (2008)

When Lemons Are An Oil Embargo, Lemonade is a Singing Keyboardist Mechanical Gorilla

by Silence Do_nothing

     The issue which has twisted more knots in the philosophically inclined mind than even Zeno's Paradox itself: Which is greater, an experimental automobile intended to squeeze more miles out of a tank of gas or a band of animatronic, anthropomorphic musicians intended to squeeze a longer visit out of patrons at a family pizzeria and arcade in the early 80s? I learned of the connection between the two from a documentary called The Rock-afire Explosion. Through old footage and contemporary interviews, it details the robotic band, its creator and nostalgia intoxicated fans.

     The oil crisis of the 70s motivated young engineer Aaron Fechter to design a fuel efficient car. He became sidetracked through his other inventions whose sales were intended to help fund the high MPG prototype, which led to a business contact hiring him to work on an electronic shooting gallery with minor animatronic features, which led to Aaron designing his own animatronic characters, which led to them being shown at conventions, which led to his creating the Rock-afire Explosion animatronic band, which led to many children in the 80s enjoying them, which led to some of them developing an obsession into adulthood, which led to at least one them buying a set for his own home, which led to a filmmaker producing a documentary on it, which led to the movie being picked up by Netflix, which led its inclusion on a recommended viewing list for a Netflix user who happened to be a hobbyist writer for this blog, which led to a resurfacing of his warm and fuzzy memories of visiting Showbiz Pizza as a kid, which led to his adding the film to his queue, which led to his viewing it, which led to his post of it, which led to a silly title and this sentence. Hopefully this hasn't led to an exasperated reader thinking "Enough already! We get it. Move on." (In my defense, it's already been established that this text would not have occurred without the oil crisis of the 70s. I am but a saltine cracker crumb in the piping hot tomato soup of geopolitical turmoil.)

     The Rock-afire Explosion looked like cartoon characters brought to the real world. Clothed animals with bold facial gestures stood upright as they sang and bantered among each other. They had names like Mitzi Mozzarela, Billy Bob Brockali and Fatz Geronimo. It was corny, but that never stopped kids’ love of talking animal characters.

     The most vivid memory I have of them involves my habit of focusing on a background character who hadn't moved yet and waiting for the spotlight to shine on it as it joined the others and burst to life. There was something eerie and fun seeing the fast contrast of a lifeless doll transforming into an expressive and boisterous personality.

     Honestly though, my liking for them was secondary to – and probably partly influenced by – my greater fondness for the Showbiz Pizza restaurant/arcade chain they were situated in. This was back when arcade games were light years ahead of home consoles. The coolest thing there for me, at the time, was the Dragon's Lair (1983) laserdisc game (even though gameplay was nearly non-existent). The Rock-afire was a part of the fun atmosphere that permeated Showbiz, but not the primary reason to go there.

     As expected of someone who took on a second job and saved for two years to purchase a set of the performers, a much greater attachment to the artificial band is shown by Chris Thrash, the most prominently featured superfan. He's a genial eccentric whose nostalgia indulgence serves as his stress relief. Chris learned enough of their operation to re-program them to sync up with current songs, performances which he posts to the internet. He explains his pastime as less harmful than that of many others which people use to unwind. I see that as the validation for all innocuous leisure activities which happen to be weird.

     For viewers who would scoff at his hobby for the idea of it alone, its expense compounds their negative impression. How can he waste his money on that? But it's his hard earned money and if he is getting an enjoyment out of it, then it is squandered no more than any other luxury purchase. I have a feeling that buying something like Italian marble would be more acceptable, even if it cost considerably more. I'd rather see someone go Chris' route. That isn't solely my robot chauvinism finding robots cooler than rocks ninety-nine times out of a hundred(although, if I had a financial stake in precious gems, I might think differently).

     People of bad taste have less murky motives than those of good. I don't know if people thought to have good taste indulge in objects of good taste because they find it worthy on its own merit or if they find respect rubs off on them when they go along with respected opinions of what is worthy. It's true that there are those who will favor a thing simply for it being out of favor, but Chris didn't strike me as any contrarian or hipster. There's a certain purity in liking something despite everyone thinking that makes you clueless. Or maybe that's just the delusional consolation from someone who manages to consistently to find himself out of step with both the beautiful people and the sophisticated crowd. But still, imagine how much easier the workday would be borne if you knew that waiting at home for you was the Rock-afire Explosion. "A chicken in every pot, and an animatronic rock band in every living room."

     Critics may point to Chris' behavior as an example of our generation's infantilization. I would counter that perhaps previous generations' youth entertainment wasn't awesome enough to stick with audiences into their adult years in a way which would motivate them to endure the scorn which a continued enjoyment of that entertainment brings (although having read many reprints, the E.C. comics of fifties would be good candidates).

     The movie could have done with added breadth – only a few fans besides Chris were featured, and that was mainly providing general background information on the characters and restaurant. There were questions I wish it would have addressed, such as whether the costs of the Rock-afire significantly contributed to Showbiz's financial woes. These complaints aside, it was still worth the view to get a blast from the past and a peek at two personalities displaying a passion in a weird and wonderful field. It deals with nostalgia, but you don't need to feel nostalgic for the subject to enjoy the film. If anything, lacking it would lead to it appearing even stranger and more fascinating.

     Insofar as a seventy-two minute documentary on animatronic characters from decades past can function as a north star in guiding one in the greener car/singing animal robots conundrum presented at the beginning of the post, I am siding with the latter. The old footage in the movie of Aaron driving his prototype made it look like Rock-afire was the more fruitful path of his engineering talents. The vehicle had such a stripped down flimsy looking frame that it reminded me of the Flintstone's car. Unless you're a really hardcore fan of the Hanna-Barbera show, you can't want that. Although if someone were, and dressed as Fred as he drove such a car to commemorate his happy youth spent watching the cartoon, it would have the potential for good documentary material. Especially if it also had another person in a Great Gazoo costume riding along, insulting him. Just beware that the green body make up doesn't make him sick.

The A-Team (2010)

B.A. Baracus, the New Hercules?

by Silence Do_nothing

     I'm curious if ancient Greeks moaned that their dramatists' penchant for adapting previously told tales of the gods reflected a lack of creativity, in the same way that modern audiences complain that all the film industry's remakes points to a Hollywood devoid of ideas. Which isn't to say that I didn't also roll my eyes at The Smurfs (2011) live action trailer, but that was from a strong sense that its only purpose could be as parody fuel for Robot Chicken or Family Guy, not a particular disdain for television-to-movie adaptations. I imagine the Athenians also made their share of stupid garbage. It's just that these would be far less likely to make it through the millennia than the classics which have survived to modern times.
     Falling somewhere between The Smurfs and Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound in the quality of adaptations spectrum is The A-Team (2010) (in fairness, I haven't experienced either of the two I have selected for the extremes, so I can't know for a fact that The Smurfs isn't a work of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicates Western culture or that Prometheus Bound couldn't have benefited from the Titans employing a speech pattern which substitutes derivations of the word "Titan" for half of their vocabulary).
     Having only caught bits of the TV series while visiting relatives as a kid, most of my knowledge about the original comes from spoofs. Besides the famous theme song, the only things I directly remembered were that there was an old man with a cigar, a crazy guy, Mr. T, and a black van. I'm as susceptible to 80s nostalgia as the next guy who spent many of his childhood days entranced at the Toys R' Us G.I. Joe section, internally debating for a good hour which figures to spend his saved allowances on (the lineup for 1986 was so strong that I am only half-joking when I state that their cardbacks were works of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicate Western culture. But I've also argued that Halloween 3 (1982) was better than the John Carpenter original, so this may merely confirm that I have no shame. Or maybe taste. Or maybe both. I think someone yelled "Or talent." That's hitting below the belt), but this particular title didn't harken back to any warm and fuzzy memories for me. It would have to stand on its own merits.
     Whatever the medium, the plot for an A-Team adventure is never the most important thing in the world, but neither is the excessive amount of snarky fluff I type out, so fairness demands that I give at least passing mention of it. A mission for the Alpha Team, a close knit band of elite soldiers stationed in Iraq, gets them caught between competing conspiracies of rogue CIA agents and private military contracting company Blackforest. Wrongfully convicted of stealing U.S. mint plates, they must use every ounce of daring and skill to clear their names and regain their honor. The story could have worked just as well if it had the A-Team falsely accused of illegally downloading thousands of mp3s, so long as it put them in plenty of precarious situations that allowed each to display his particular talents before Hannibal broke out his victory cigar and catchphrase of "I love it when a plan comes together."
     Fairly inventive set-pieces allow The A-Team to avoid that fun-sapping staleness of many other offerings in the genre which feel like the action has been done a thousand times before. I can't recall the last time I've seen a plummeting tank harness the recoil of its cannon to safely steer its descent or port shipping containers serving as props in a giant shell game to set up an ambush. Team leader Hannibal's (Liam Neeson) intricate planning is intercut with the mission itself, making it easier to follow. None of it was a Matrix sized leap forward, but they were cool twists executed well. Given the relative scarcity of good action movies compared to good dramatic films, I maintain that action is harder to create and, therefore, more impressive (I realize this probably qualifies me for nothing more than curator of a hypothetical Michael Bay Museum of Cultural Artifacts).
     The sense of camaraderie and the casting for the team made them a fun bunch of characters to get behind. Never-mind that Liam Neeson is the only native English-speaking actor who can't do a convincing American accent. He still maintains a commanding presence which fits Hannibal. Lady's-man Face (Bradley Cooper) redeems his narcissistic arrogance through an almost religious faith in his compatriots ability to rescue him from certain doom. Oddly enough, an actor with the nickname of Rampage, the professional MMA fighter Quinton Jackson, produces a more congenial version of a character whose initials are supposed to double for Bad Attitude. This relatively quick to smile or chuckle B.A. Baracus is actually somewhat easy going when you consider how much grief he puts up with. I actually preferred Jackson's take on the character, as his is less cartoonish than having him perpetually scowling and looking for an opening to tell someone to "Shut up, fool!" The one thing that truly scares the brave men of the A-Team isn't the enemy, but what insane and insanely talented pilot Murdock (Sharlto Copley of "District 9" fame) might do. He is the wild card in Hannibal's meticulous plans. Even beneath all the crazy is a deep loyalty to the team and the possibility that he consciously exaggerates his nutso persona to gain an advantage. In contrast to the typical lone wolf action hero, they're all well aware they need each other.
     Going a more lighthearted route for the villainous PMC Pike was a good call. More times than not, these types of films seek too heavy a mood for the bad guy. It ends up clashing with the fun of over-the-top action or falls flat and ends up seeming cheesy. Actor Brian Bloom is good at playing up the humor without turning the character into a joke. Pike isn't shy about his disdain for incompetence and lets it out at inopportune times, like when he scolds and lectures a would be executioner about the proper terminology for the suppressor (definitely not silencer) and instructs the bumbling adversary how to attach it to the gun meant for his head.
     The end result of the movie is something better than just a guilty pleasure for people wanting to re-live childhood memories. It would be nice if all adaptations could be as good as Christopher Nolan's "Batman" movies, but even if they just reach The A-Team level consistently, moviegoers wouldn't be so suspicious of Hollywood's cinematic recycling.
     I think there are many creative works which were failures, but still had potential in more skilled hands. Junk culture is long on cool ideas, but short on talent. It's like inventors requiring engineers and technicians to bring their ideas to fruition.
     The A-Team was closer to what I imagine to be the quality of Prometheus Bound than what I assume to be that of The Smurfs. Whether A-Team characters will be part of the lexicon thousands of years from now is another matter. Maybe if a renowned writer pens an epic poem about B.A. Baracus venturing forth on a perilous quest to rescue his beloved black GMC van from an automotive graveyard.
     One more thing. I was completely joking about only half-joking about the cardbacks from the 1986 G.I. Joe action figures being works of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicate Western culture. Of course I wouldn't place them in the same league as Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" or Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. I just thought it might be a more entertaining way of getting across that I thought they were awesome than simply writing "the 1986 G.I. Joe action figure cardbacks were awesome." I can only hope that I'm not thought less than serious about completely joking about half-joking.