WestworldImagine your fancy theme park vacation goes wrong. No, not because you forgot your toothbrush, or they overbooked a ride or something. Imagine that what was supposed to be an indulgent escape from reality became a fight for your life. That, for example, the animatronics of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride came to life and started murdering everyone. (Or the little munchkins in the It's a Small World ride did, for that matter.) That's the basic premise of Westworld, a "near-future" (set in 1983!) sci-fi flick where the remarkably human-like robots of a theme park--collectively called "Delos"--suddenly do just that. (No, they don't lose their toothbrushes.)
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Written and directed by acclaimed science fiction author, Michael Crichton, Westworld is the kind of sci-fi movie that feels like it must have been exceedingly novel when it was released a half of a century ago. It's a strange thing to go back and watch it today, in an era where pocket-sized computers with staggering processing power aren't just commonplace, they are ubiquitous. In an era where movies have multi-million dollar budgets, devoting extensive amounts of it to CGI, and where the limits of what can be created are only bound by the imaginations of its designers. Sure, androids and flying cars aren't on our horizon, but cabinet-sized computers with reels of tape are beyond antiques in 2023. So seeing this--and other anachronisms--in an ostensibly "futuristic" setting will, unfortunately, always stand out as relics of yesteryear. In an ironic way, that should work to the advantage of Westworld, which showcases a trio of "worlds" set in the distant past: "Westworld", "Roman World", and "Medieval World". Unfortunately, these settings lack historical accuracy (e.g. the costuming), so this doesn't really pan out for Westworld, either (the movie and the park).
My first introduction to the idea of "Westworld" came as a result of watching the marvelous show of the same name, released ten years ago. It not only expands on the concept of the movie (as those kind of shows tend to do), but constructs a deliciously labyrinthine plot, plays up the cyberpunk aspects, and deals with more compelling questions than, "why is the robot is trying to kill me"? So inevitably, I'm compelled to compare the two to some extent, but I'll resist the impulse in the spirit of analyzing the movie first, instead of the show. Westworld (the movie) feels like the definition of "high concept, low execution". To elaborate, there's something inherently fascinating about the idea of a theme park of the future where tourists can indulge in their fantasies, until those fantasies are turned against them. While the show is far more cynical about the amoral indulgences to which humanity can allow themselves to fall prey, the idea of it was a seed first planted in this film, germinating later with the show.
The parkgoers in the movie are stock-in-trade upper-middle class folks and rich professionals--they'd have to be to afford the "one thousand dollar a day" cost of admission--in "1983" dollars, mind you. (If you know what it costs for a vacation package to Disney World, you're probably snickering at this.) But they get quite a lot for their money. Sure, the rooms are "uncomfortable", as anxious lawyer Peter Martin (Richard Benjamin) comments to his travelling buddy, the superficially tough John Blane (James Brolin). But John, who's been here before, shows Peter the "real" appeal of Westworld, which amounts to an invitation to break the rules of civilized society. This begins with a gunslinger--a humanoid robot dressed in black, and played by Yul Brynner in the only memorable role in the movie--who antagonizes Peter. Peter is wise enough to know that in civilized society, you don't pull out your revolver and gun someone down for being a bully. But this theme park was clearly designed by someone raised on fantasy novels and TV shows, where that kind of thing does happen, and furthermore, is expected to happen. So after John nudges him to play along, Peter indulges in a shootout that he can't lose by design. Of course this raises the question about whether there is any "sport" in such an exercise, but exploring this idea is where Westworld excels.
Even though the movie is surprisingly light on plot--really, very little happens until the robots go nutso--the social commentary rings loud. The message is essentially this: people are lazy and indulgent, and will abuse their wealth for comfort and excitement if given the opportunity, so long as it never cuts deeper than a superficial rush. It's kith and kin with the idea of "instant gratification". Aside from Peter and John, there's a rather boring subplot about a guy in Medieval World--some banker played by Dick Van Patten--who gets his kicks by seducing the queen (Victoria Shaw) just because he can. He then gets frustrated when a "glitch" in one of the pretty robot maids named Daphne (Anne Randall) refuses his advances. (I mean, what gives? He's a paying customer, right?!) See, the Delos parks condition people to view the androids not as human beings, but as objects to be exploited, even though they look and feel real enough. It's a dangerous line to walk, one that essentially reveals that these humanoid machines are nothing less than slaves to the customers. It also entices the rich to yield to their baser desires, just because they can afford to do so, drawing a clear divide between the "haves" and the "have nots". The people who run Westworld (the park) look like a bunch of scientists, but maybe that appearance is misleading. They clearly get the business side of their venture, luring wealthy consumers with money to burn in with fantasies they can't (legally) have anywhere else. But when it comes to keeping their robots in check, or park security--or even just a simple ventilation into their control room--they're pretty clueless. I mean, when things do go nuts and an evil knight (Michael Mikler) skewers the sleazy banker, their last resort is to cut power to the park, which inadvertently traps them inside their strangely hermetically sealed control room, where they all suffocate. (Brilliant.) Westworld opens with a faux commercial/news report, talking up the merits of Delos, with some "man on the street" interviews that hint at what the attendees can expect from their vacation. The most intriguing interview is with a woman who pauses before commenting on why especially she's excited to go to Roman World: because of the "men". When she starts talking about a "warm, glowing feeling", it's not hard to infer what she's referring to. So even though Westworld (the movie, for the last time) doesn't really deliver on showing everyday people giving into their wanton impulses (the TV show sure does, though), the idea that the morality we uphold in polite society is a pure construct is a chilling thought that remains with us as we watch the movie...and perhaps afterwards.
Recommended for: Fans of a high concept sci-fi movie, albeit one that too readily is given to clichés and one that fails to deliver a compelling story to accompany its clever conceit. Killer androids are always fascinating to me, and that's true to an extent with Westworld. But audiences looking for more depth and authenticity will be better served by checking out the magnificent TV show instead, which (to be fair) this movie inspired in the first place.
My first introduction to the idea of "Westworld" came as a result of watching the marvelous show of the same name, released ten years ago. It not only expands on the concept of the movie (as those kind of shows tend to do), but constructs a deliciously labyrinthine plot, plays up the cyberpunk aspects, and deals with more compelling questions than, "why is the robot is trying to kill me"? So inevitably, I'm compelled to compare the two to some extent, but I'll resist the impulse in the spirit of analyzing the movie first, instead of the show. Westworld (the movie) feels like the definition of "high concept, low execution". To elaborate, there's something inherently fascinating about the idea of a theme park of the future where tourists can indulge in their fantasies, until those fantasies are turned against them. While the show is far more cynical about the amoral indulgences to which humanity can allow themselves to fall prey, the idea of it was a seed first planted in this film, germinating later with the show.
The parkgoers in the movie are stock-in-trade upper-middle class folks and rich professionals--they'd have to be to afford the "one thousand dollar a day" cost of admission--in "1983" dollars, mind you. (If you know what it costs for a vacation package to Disney World, you're probably snickering at this.) But they get quite a lot for their money. Sure, the rooms are "uncomfortable", as anxious lawyer Peter Martin (Richard Benjamin) comments to his travelling buddy, the superficially tough John Blane (James Brolin). But John, who's been here before, shows Peter the "real" appeal of Westworld, which amounts to an invitation to break the rules of civilized society. This begins with a gunslinger--a humanoid robot dressed in black, and played by Yul Brynner in the only memorable role in the movie--who antagonizes Peter. Peter is wise enough to know that in civilized society, you don't pull out your revolver and gun someone down for being a bully. But this theme park was clearly designed by someone raised on fantasy novels and TV shows, where that kind of thing does happen, and furthermore, is expected to happen. So after John nudges him to play along, Peter indulges in a shootout that he can't lose by design. Of course this raises the question about whether there is any "sport" in such an exercise, but exploring this idea is where Westworld excels.
Even though the movie is surprisingly light on plot--really, very little happens until the robots go nutso--the social commentary rings loud. The message is essentially this: people are lazy and indulgent, and will abuse their wealth for comfort and excitement if given the opportunity, so long as it never cuts deeper than a superficial rush. It's kith and kin with the idea of "instant gratification". Aside from Peter and John, there's a rather boring subplot about a guy in Medieval World--some banker played by Dick Van Patten--who gets his kicks by seducing the queen (Victoria Shaw) just because he can. He then gets frustrated when a "glitch" in one of the pretty robot maids named Daphne (Anne Randall) refuses his advances. (I mean, what gives? He's a paying customer, right?!) See, the Delos parks condition people to view the androids not as human beings, but as objects to be exploited, even though they look and feel real enough. It's a dangerous line to walk, one that essentially reveals that these humanoid machines are nothing less than slaves to the customers. It also entices the rich to yield to their baser desires, just because they can afford to do so, drawing a clear divide between the "haves" and the "have nots". The people who run Westworld (the park) look like a bunch of scientists, but maybe that appearance is misleading. They clearly get the business side of their venture, luring wealthy consumers with money to burn in with fantasies they can't (legally) have anywhere else. But when it comes to keeping their robots in check, or park security--or even just a simple ventilation into their control room--they're pretty clueless. I mean, when things do go nuts and an evil knight (Michael Mikler) skewers the sleazy banker, their last resort is to cut power to the park, which inadvertently traps them inside their strangely hermetically sealed control room, where they all suffocate. (Brilliant.) Westworld opens with a faux commercial/news report, talking up the merits of Delos, with some "man on the street" interviews that hint at what the attendees can expect from their vacation. The most intriguing interview is with a woman who pauses before commenting on why especially she's excited to go to Roman World: because of the "men". When she starts talking about a "warm, glowing feeling", it's not hard to infer what she's referring to. So even though Westworld (the movie, for the last time) doesn't really deliver on showing everyday people giving into their wanton impulses (the TV show sure does, though), the idea that the morality we uphold in polite society is a pure construct is a chilling thought that remains with us as we watch the movie...and perhaps afterwards.
Recommended for: Fans of a high concept sci-fi movie, albeit one that too readily is given to clichés and one that fails to deliver a compelling story to accompany its clever conceit. Killer androids are always fascinating to me, and that's true to an extent with Westworld. But audiences looking for more depth and authenticity will be better served by checking out the magnificent TV show instead, which (to be fair) this movie inspired in the first place.