Movie Doubles - 'Rango' & 'Five Minutes of Heaven'

The Myth of Redemptive Violence

We all need redemption it seems, so the movies continuously feed us with myths where we can be redeemed; and most of the time it is through violence that our main characters are redeemed. It's just not a movie without people beating up on one another or shooting each other or yelling and screaming at one another in court. It makes for great entertainment but you often wonder just how deep this impulse goes in the audience. After all, if the audience didn't want it so much why would the film makers be providing so much of it as product?

In that vein I thought it might be interesting to at least tackle the mythologies inherent in a couple of totally disparate films. 'Rango' hails from the cutting edge of Hollywood CGI animation while 'Five Minutes of Heaven' comes in from the terrible social realist terrain of the troubles and its aftermath in Northern Ireland. About the only thing they might have is that they both feature revolvers - and of course if there is a gun in a film, it ends up being fired.

I won't be covering the gun myth today. I covered that in considerable detail way back when here. Also, as usual, here's a spoiler alert if spoilers annoy you.

Destiny As Guiding Myth

It's weird how we try and pin the action on a character. The weirder, the stranger, the unlikelier the character happens to be, the better fodder it becomes for comedy. After all, Clint Eastwood is a likely gun-slinger in any of the movies he appeared in. Martin Sort, Steve Martin and Chevy Chase were far less so in 'The Three Amigos'. In this instance, a heavily carricatured chameleon voiced by Johnny Depp seemsas unlikely a main character in a western as you would get, but that's what the film makers wanted to do.

The film might have been equally good had it been shot and none of the characters were animated animals, but that is not what you have. So when destiny comes knocking, we are watching a green lizard talk his way through a dusty hot wild west. Rango starts as a pet that is accidentally thrown on to the desert, and as he ponders the existential question of who he is, he arrives at a town of animals where his destiny lies.

Equally, in 'Five Minutes of Heaven' the horror of the blatant violence wherein a Unionist youth kills a Catholic as the younger brother of the victim watches, stunned, leads us into the horror of then untangling the emotional mess that ensues. My old screenwriting teacher used to say that destiny knocks three times, but in 'Five Minutes of Heaven', it is the sound of three bullets. What is important is that the boy becomes captive to the conflict as it destroys his family, and there is no volition on his part that places him deep into the story.

In both films, the initial disruption is not some act of volition but something that is done to the characters. The only reason we would and should accept these premises is because otherwise we cannot justify to ourselves why some lives turn out one way and how others go another way.

Reaching For Spirituality

Both of these films actually deal with a crisis of faith in one's position in the world. Rango's faith in his role as sheriff take a pounding from Rattlesnake Joe who exposes him in front of the townsfolk. Without a single shot fired, Rango is denuded of his self-respect. In 'Five Minutes of Heaven' Joe turns up to meet the murderer of his brother in the name of reconciliation, yet he secretly plots to kill Alistair. This bad faith is in fact stems from his immense self-loathing, which came from the blame thrust upon him by his mother. Alistair too arrives as 'A broken man', but more to the point in need of some kind of redemption. No earthly means will save either man it seems.

The lack, or deficit or absence in these characters expresses itself as a deep existential pain. I wonder if these kinds of characters a re imagined like this to make a point, or whether writers think this is the best way to have a story told: load up the characters with too much guilt and self-loathing and see how long before they fall apart on screen.

Of course 'Rango' being a comedy for children, Rango encounters a figure that is deeply reminiscent of Clint Eastwood's rider with no name. In 'Five Minutes of Heaven' the men meet one another in the house where the murder took place. In both instances, the lack is viewed as being filled by these encounters.

The "Who Am I?" Question

Pointedly, we never learn Rango's real name. Just as Clint Eastwood's gunman before him had no name, Rango passes for his made up name. All the while, he issues forth with his method acting questions about his true identity which lead him to the existential question of just who he might be. The search for an identity that he can be comfortable with leads Rango to embrace the west and its mythology.

Similarly Alistair in 'Five Minutes of Heaven' is driven by a desire to be somebody which leads him to the murder of Joe's brother. Joe in turn has to internalise the trauma of not only the death but the collapsing family in its aftermath. To that extent Joe's identity is not his own, but an imprint left by Alistair's blind ambition to be one of the worthy Unionists. As such, the transformation of identity is crucial in 'Five Minutes of Heaven'; and it is only through transforming identities that true reconciliation might be hoped for.

While identity being part of the problem in a British film about Northern Ireland is not so surprising, for it to be part of an animated movie for kids is a little different. 'Rango' isn't your ordinary 'fish out of water' story. The power of the 'Rango' narrative lies in Rango's active embrace of an evolving identity, and his ultimate embrace of that change that allows him to survive his plight.

While I'm on this topic, it's also worth mentioning just how heterogenous the characters in 'Rango' are. There are lizards, toads and owls and squirrels. Insisting on an identity by birth doesn't seem to carry much weight. It's only when Rango chooses to be the transformed figure that he can live up to his promises.

Of course it's worth mentioning the narrative debt 'Rango' owes to 'Chinatown'. It's pretty clever that way. Of course the control of water supply and the vested interests of development going hand in hand make for a splendid homage.

One Bullet, One Knife

What both these films share is a sequence dedicated to loading revolvers. In 'Rango', it centres around the notion of needing only one bullet to achieve a desired result. In 'Five Minutes of Heaven', the loading of the revolver represents the loading of the initial problem. In 'Rango', the gun is almost obsolete as the weird anachronistic mores of the wild west in which it is contextualised. In 'Five Minutes f Heaven', the gun is fired, kills its intended target, but is made obsolete by history. In that sense, both films are working against the myth of the gun.

At the climax, all the events of 'Rango' culminate on the myth of the one bullet - and the bullet isn't even fired from a gun. In 'Five Minutes of Heaven', the knife is unsheathed but ultimately fails to kill the intended victim. In both films there is a strong desire within the text to cease the cycle of events - the lack of water or sectarian violence that immediately defines the actions of the characters. In that sense violence only prolongs the cycle.

While 'Rango' never quite leaves behind the promise of a redemptive violence, the outcome is far less violent than the trappings of a western might suggest. 'Five Minutes of Heaven' actually attempts to address the cycle of violence, as both Alistair and Joe face up to the meaningless of their violence. For Alistair, it is the declaration that he is nothing, and unworthy of Joe's hatred. Joe in turn has to go to a group meeting and confess how he feels unworthy of his children because of his anger and desire for revenge. At the end we only understand the ending of the violence in terms of these men moving beyond the cycle of violence.

The interesting question for us is whether we buy into this assembly of ideas. Do we believe that people can leave the cycle of violence behind? Or does it simply stay dormant to resurface again down the track in history? I guess we still won't know, but there seems to be a hint in both films that it is exactly what we the audience want to do.