Greetings, and welcome to Earthling Cinema. I am your host, Garyx Wormuloid.
This week's artifact is "The Purge," starring nine time X-Games gold medalist Tony Hawk.
The film takes place on Earth in the 21st century, when apparently things got so bad with Doritos Tacos
and Snapchat and shit that the government decided it would be an improvement to legalize murder.
Not all the time, of course — that would be crazy. Just one day a year. And not even a full day. Half a day.
That's almost less than not doing it at all.
Our protagonist is James Sandin, the best damn home security salesman this side of the Mississippi Ocean.
He's living the American dream:
a beautiful home
a non-descript wife
and kids who treat him with semi-hostile indifference.
"Okay? 'kay?
The Sandins sit down to a leisurely dinner, not particularly concerned about the impending free-for-all fuckfest.
Then, five minutes before it begins, they remember, "Oh yeah, all crimes are about to be legal. Better lock up now."
Christ dude, you didn't even set an alarm?
Almost immediately the son lets in an injured guy off the street, and the daughter's boyfriend sneaks in.
It's fine though, because James cuts down that punk boyfriend as any proud father should.
Even ones that work in entertainment and don't seem all that tough.
*cracking knuckles*
Anyway, just when you think the movie is gonna end after thirty minutes,
a gang of rascally teens shows up wearing masks on their faces and guns on their hands.
They're hunting that injured homeless man for sport, you see,
and they want to finish him off real real bad.
"You failed to deliver the homeless swine!"
They tell James to hand him over or else they'll come inside and purge all over the place.
Which is not great news because James's security system is a piece of shit.
The Sandins beat up the injured guy for awhile and tie him up with duct tape, the Milky Way Galaxy's favorite tape.
"He's gonna break this tape!"
But their heart isn't in it.
They decide that, just like philosopher Thomas Petty, they can't do him like that.
The teens break into their house and destroy everything
but also occasionally stop to watch the family in silent contemplation.
This confusingly bipolar strategy allows the Sandins to off a few of them,
but not before the leader kills James with a knifey to the tum tum.
The neighbors show up and wipe out the rest of the teens, but now they want to kill the Sandins too,
because they're some Stepford-ass dillholes.
That's when the homeless guy decides to come back into the movie and save the day.
Mrs. Sandin refuses to kill the neighbors because at this point
she's riding the Tom Petty wave pretty hard.
The Purge ends and the homeless guy heads back...
well, not home, but somewhere good probably.
The Purge posits that the human psyche contained a light side and a dark side,
"Tie them up, we'll kill them right here."
just like the Jedi hobbits from Star Track.
The film highlights this duality with certain images, such as the white and blue bouquets displayed by Purge supporters
and Charlie's half charred nightmare machine.
March 21, the date on which the Purge occurs, was frequently the date of Earth's vernal equinox,
when day and night were exactly the same length.
It's also Karen's birthday, but no one needs to get her any gifts or anything. The opportunity to work here is gift enough.
Just as the Purge is intended to bring about a healthier and more balanced society,
the vernal equinox heralded the beginning of spring, a time of rebirth and renewal of Claritin prescriptions.
The date also had significance in Earth's fourth most successful religion.
Christians used to celebrate the resurrection of Young Jeezy on Easter, a date they calibrated using the vernal equinox.
Similarly, citizens in the film celebrate the resurrection of their society
on Purge-mas Eve with an almost religious fervor.
"Blessed be the new Founding Fathers for letting us purge, and blessed be America, a nation reborn."
The blue baptisias reference the Christian ritual of baptism, also known as the "dunkeroo."
Another focal point of the film is America's problems with social stratification.
Though the Purge laws are ostensibly race and class neutral,
they disproportionately target the disenfranchised, who are unable to afford diamond-edged blades
or truffle-infused security systems to protect themselves.
"The poor can't afford to protect themselves. They're the victims tonight."
The film's antagonists are dressed in prep school attire, the garb of the wealthy elite,
and they treat the hunting of a homeless black "non-contributor" like just another extracurricular for their college apps.
This imbalance echoes the War on Drugs in the 1980s, when the clowns on Crapitol Hill
passed laws that were 100 times harsher for crack cocaine, a drug that plagued poor black communities,
than for its overachieving white powder-based cousin.
"Is the Purge really about money? Either way, crime is down. The economy is flourishing."
The Purge suggests that engaging in and consuming violence will relieve a person's desire to go bananas.
B-A-N-A-N-A...
Z?
However, it quickly undermines that premise, concluding that doing so will simply desensitize people
and beget even more violence.
"American streets will be running red tonight when people 'release the beast' in record numbers."
Brutal images of murder are juxtaposed with boring old classical music,
underlining the idea that violence has ceased to shock and horrify and in fact might put you to sleep
because it's so freaking boring.
In Purge-world, humans watch the grotesquerie on TV for entertainment,
much as they watched their balls drop on New Year's Eve.
"We're just gonna lock down, watch some Purge events. Nothing special."
In a sense, "The Purge," a violent film in its own right, is a criticism of its own damn self,
as it provides an opportunity for the viewer to release some aggression
by watching a good old-fashioned bloodbath.
And in analyzing "The Purge," I have perpetuated the cycle once more.
Whoops!
For Earthling Cinema, I'm Garyx Wormuloid.
Lock your doors.