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Ender’s Game, dir. Gavin Hood (2013)
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[SPOILERS]
Is it bad to turn children into killing machines? Of course, what sort of question is that? Is it bad to defend ourselves against annihilation? Of course not, what sort of question is that? Ender’s Game (Gavin Hood, 2013) plays these questions against each other in an interesting moral conundrum. In doing so, the film forms an interesting contrast to other science fiction adventures, especially Star Wars (George Lucas, Lawrence Kasdan, Richard Marquand, 1977-2005), Independence Day (Roland Emmerich, 1996) and the rebooted Star Trek (J. J. Abrams, 2009) and its sequel, Star Trek Into Darkness (Abrams, 2013). Ender’s Game takes place decades after Earth defeated an invading alien force, the Formics. The International Fleet, Earth’s defence force, fears another attack, and trains children as fleet officers because their brains react faster and can process more information than adults. The children command remote fighters through computer control and virtual reality, rather than being actually on the front line. The film focuses on Ender Wiggin (Asa Butterfield), a trainee in combat school under the command of Colonel Graff (Harrison Ford). Ender steadily gains in skill and confidence, but also experiences difficulties and even trauma en route to winning a decisive battle against the Formics.
Graff’s congratulations to Ender, however, are very different from Han Solo’s ‘Great shot, kid, that was one in a million!’, as the reaction of the senior officers is far more sober than the cadets or, indeed, the audience. Graff reveals that this ‘simulation’ was an actual assault on the Formic homeworld, and is immensely grateful to Ender for ending the war and (according to him) saving mankind. Ender, however, is horrified at destroying an entire species.
Is it bad to turn children into killing machines? Of course, what sort of question is that? Is it bad to defend ourselves against annihilation? Of course not, what sort of question is that? Ender’s Game (Gavin Hood, 2013) plays these questions against each other in an interesting moral conundrum. In doing so, the film forms an interesting contrast to other science fiction adventures, especially Star Wars (George Lucas, Lawrence Kasdan, Richard Marquand, 1977-2005), Independence Day (Roland Emmerich, 1996) and the rebooted Star Trek (J. J. Abrams, 2009) and its sequel, Star Trek Into Darkness (Abrams, 2013). Ender’s Game takes place decades after Earth defeated an invading alien force, the Formics. The International Fleet, Earth’s defence force, fears another attack, and trains children as fleet officers because their brains react faster and can process more information than adults. The children command remote fighters through computer control and virtual reality, rather than being actually on the front line. The film focuses on Ender Wiggin (Asa Butterfield), a trainee in combat school under the command of Colonel Graff (Harrison Ford). Ender steadily gains in skill and confidence, but also experiences difficulties and even trauma en route to winning a decisive battle against the Formics.
On
the surface, Ender’s Game appears a fairly gung-ho sci-fi action film,
with an establishment scene informing the viewer that the human race was only
saved by the noble sacrifice of a great leader. So far, so Independence Day,
even down to a fighter aircraft flying into the belly of an alien ship. Yet a
more sinister ideology swiftly creeps into the film, as Colonel Graff and Major
Gwen Anderson (Viola Davis) watch the movements of Ender, literally through his
eyes thanks to an implant that he willingly had fitted. Here is dystopia in
subtle terms, rather than the devastated environments of Blade Runner or
Avatar or the Orwellian oppression of The Hunger Games. Instead we see a public drip-fed a steady diet of
militaristic propaganda. Ender’s home life and indeed existence is contingent
upon this militarism, as his family discuss the war and humanity’s future over
dinner, and children play at fighting Formics. The violence of Ender and his
brother Peter (Jimmy Pinchak) as they play is disturbing, especially since we
learn that Peter was expelled from the same training as Ender for being too
savage. Furthermore, Ender was only conceived as a possible future trainee,
which means that when Graff comes to take him away, the parents have no say in
the matter. Children are being bred and raised for their military potential,
and subsequently indoctrinated and deceived.
Despite
this, Ender’s Game is not explicitly dystopian or overtly grim. Many of
the training sequences of Ender and his fellow cadets are enjoyable, reminiscent
of teaching and Quidditch sequences in the Harry Potter series.
Parallels are drawn between growing up and advancing in training, and the
relationships between Ender and his friends are warm and engaging. The
zero-gravity war games look like fun, and I found myself drawn into the
training of Ender, seeing it as something positive.
Nonetheless, darker
elements remain, as Graff arranges for Ender to be isolated as part of officer
training, and rivalries develop between the cadets. Ender is cornered by
bullies and proves as savage as his brother, as he beats the lead bully badly
so that ‘he can never hurt me again’, a justification Graff uses in relation to
the war against the Formics. Things take an even darker turn when Ender fights
another bully, Bonzo Madrid (Moises Arias), in officer training. Bonzo is badly
injured and Ender is shocked and appalled at what he has done, but nevertheless
does not shirk from combat. Bonzo confronts Ender in the shower room, and Ender
prepares by coating his body in soap to make him hard to grip, and turns up the
temperature to provide the cover of steam. Ender may be conscientious, but his
combat readiness never wavers. Therefore, the training is effective
in turning Ender into a dangerous combatant, and our enjoyment of the training
sequences becomes problematic and uncomfortable. Zero-G games look like fun,
but perhaps a more apt comparison than Harry Potter would be Full Metal Jacket (Stanley Kubrick, 1987), in which the boot camp training
dehumanises the recruits, reducing one to murderous insanity.
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| Full Metal Jacket, dir. Stanley Kubrick (1987) |
Full Metal Jacket has an easy job of being
critical of warfare, because the Vietnam War is incredibly controversial and
largely seen as senseless opposition to the spread of communism. Furthermore,
Kubrick uses horrific images of victims to underscore his critique, something
that a film like Ender’s Game, aimed
at a family audience, cannot do. Yet here the film interrogates our
expectations, as we expect a straightforward tale of good VS evil in a
family-oriented, blockbuster adventure like this. Instead, we encounter a disturbing
vision of militarism that turns children into killers and where the lines of
right and wrong are far greyer than in Star
Wars or Harry Potter.
Ender’s subsequent training is undertaken by Commander Mazar Rackham (Ben
Kingsley), the hero of the opening sequence who supposedly sacrificed himself
to win the first war against the Formics. His heroic death is another piece of
propaganda, the man made into a legend because legends are more inspirational
than leaders. The most disturbing piece of propaganda comes at the film’s
climax, as Ender and his team succeed in their final exam: the apparently simulated
destruction of the Formics’ homeworld. This scene is, on the one hand, a
dazzling visual feast. Ender’s team of squadron commanders engage the enemy
forces, utilise ingenious strategy, and finally deploy their weapon of mass
destruction to spectacular effect. Much as in Star Trek or Star Wars,
the viewer is treated to the visual pleasure of spaceships blasting away at
each other. I imagine that aficionados of video games might gain particular
pleasure from the battle sequences, as the vessels are controlled through
joysticks and control pads, as well as direct physical manipulation.
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| Ender's Game, dir. Gavin Hood (2013) |
Even
without a background in videogaming, I still found the film’s combat
simulations thrilling and enjoyable. However, as the exam approached its
climax, I sensed that something was wrong, because why was the film spending so
much narrative time and visual spectacle (which is, let us not forget, a
significant portion of the film’s budget) on this sequence if it were not the
climax of the film? My sense of misgiving was confirmed after the test was
completed and the squadron celebrated with jubilation. Once again, this was
reminiscent of similar triumphant moments like the destruction of the Death
Star in Star Wars, the
intertextuality made stronger by the presence of Harrison Ford.
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| Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, dir. George Lucas (1977) |
Graff’s congratulations to Ender, however, are very different from Han Solo’s ‘Great shot, kid, that was one in a million!’, as the reaction of the senior officers is far more sober than the cadets or, indeed, the audience. Graff reveals that this ‘simulation’ was an actual assault on the Formic homeworld, and is immensely grateful to Ender for ending the war and (according to him) saving mankind. Ender, however, is horrified at destroying an entire species.
Ender is not the
only one horrified by his actions: so are we, in shocking contrast to our
earlier reactions. As viewers of a sci-fi spectacular, we expect grand set pieces, space
battles and explosions. The film rewards our expectations but with a caveat of ambiguity: we
enjoy the spectacle but simultaneously feel uncomfortable. The discomfort is
caused by, firstly, children being used as weapons, which plays on our
discomfort around the corruption of innocence and exposing children to the
horrors of the world. Secondly, the cause is not at straightforwardly
righteousness as it could be. It is completely understandable that we defend ourselves and many a film
would treat this unproblematically. Ender’s
Game, however, asks us to consider whether survival of the human race is
justified when the price is so high. Quite apart from the eradication of an
entire species, compassion and humaneness are what make us human: the pilots
and commanders of the International Fleet sacrifice their humanity for the
cause of victory. Much as Rupert Read has argued that humans are made ‘alien’
and ‘other’ in Avatar, in Ender’s Game humans make themselves
monstrous, even as they try to overcome what they perceive as monsters. Here be
monsters indeed, but rather than looking like giant ants, they look like Han
Solo and Mahatma Gandhi!
The film asks what is justifiable to expect from a sci-fi blockbuster. Ender’s maturation is similar to the journeys of young heroes Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter and James Kirk (in the new version of this character played by Chris Pine). These young heroes have an unambiguous heroism about them – Obi Wan Kenobi informs Luke that he must ‘become a Jedi’, while Captain Pike informs Kirk that he sees the ‘greatness’ in him. Kirk, as presented in J. J. Abrams’ version of Star Trek, is unproblematically destined for greatness, mostly down to blind luck and occasional flashes of insight. Similarly, Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter must confront, respectively, the Dark Side and the Dark Lord that they are associated with, but there is never any doubt that Luke and Harry themselves are ultimately good. Ender displays conscience to balance his military skill, but he has a very dubious form of ‘greatness’ thrust upon him that gives him nothing but guilt. The heroes of such blockbusters regularly travel into darkness, but Kirk, Luke and Harry remain largely untouched by it, whereas Ender is indelibly stained. As a viewer, we are also stained, because we enjoy the spectacle and action which is bound up with Ender’s development that, surely, we knew was leading towards the attack. We were looking forward to the devastation we see, because that is what the genre offers. Ender's Game therefore performs philosophy by challenging generic expectations and our own enjoyment of violence.
The film asks what is justifiable to expect from a sci-fi blockbuster. Ender’s maturation is similar to the journeys of young heroes Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter and James Kirk (in the new version of this character played by Chris Pine). These young heroes have an unambiguous heroism about them – Obi Wan Kenobi informs Luke that he must ‘become a Jedi’, while Captain Pike informs Kirk that he sees the ‘greatness’ in him. Kirk, as presented in J. J. Abrams’ version of Star Trek, is unproblematically destined for greatness, mostly down to blind luck and occasional flashes of insight. Similarly, Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter must confront, respectively, the Dark Side and the Dark Lord that they are associated with, but there is never any doubt that Luke and Harry themselves are ultimately good. Ender displays conscience to balance his military skill, but he has a very dubious form of ‘greatness’ thrust upon him that gives him nothing but guilt. The heroes of such blockbusters regularly travel into darkness, but Kirk, Luke and Harry remain largely untouched by it, whereas Ender is indelibly stained. As a viewer, we are also stained, because we enjoy the spectacle and action which is bound up with Ender’s development that, surely, we knew was leading towards the attack. We were looking forward to the devastation we see, because that is what the genre offers. Ender's Game therefore performs philosophy by challenging generic expectations and our own enjoyment of violence.
