Cell 2455

The difficulty represented by films like The Hunted (2003), however unfair to its real life tracker Tom Brown, is we've seen the American lone wolf engage in countless expiations of this sort. Tommy Lee Jones channels Clint Eastwood, hounded by, hounding rogues. None of these films ever go far enough in implicating the American circumvention of its Enlightenment ideal. They indemnify themselves with the deceleration of the contest. The real secret service agents who lost JFK commit suicide. Clint Eastwood and John Malkovich simply replay Homer's Iliad. Yet the inferences to draw from Friedkin's direction are a little more subtle. What isn't indicted in the script is implied in the combat, the sheer brutality of Benicio del Toro, the wilderness in which Jones isolates himself, speak volumes about intervention over our current retrenchment of engagement-- in this sense, the synthesis of our visual entertainments replaying the same themes over and over is unfortunate. I do not need to be rich enough for cable to know that our serials beat to the same rhythms. Halle Berry is reclaiming ABC's failures to commit to near term space opera fictions with Ron Livingston. Alien Terra-forming of the human animal is representative only of our doubts about our own unraveling.