Many, many moons ago – not in a galaxy far away but this one itself – I attended a film class at a small liberal arts college in the middle of absolutely nowhere, USA.
One of the things that the professor did fairly early on in the coursework was to openly quiz the class over what films we’d seen, what genres we preferred, and what our general aptitude toward film as an artform was. It was the kind of thing that really had no right or wrong answers and was solely intended to establish some kind of relational baseline between the academic and the students. To my credit, I had seen a great deal more of true classics – or, at least, those titles commonly accepted as cinematic highs – than my classmates (not an insult, just a memory); so, it was clear that the professor wanted to challenge my perception of filmdom’s good, bad, and ugly over our shared interest in features.
When I told him that 1977’s Star Wars was one of my personal favorites, he immediately wanted to know if I had seen George Lucas’ earlier effort, namely 1971’s THX 1138. At this point, I hadn’t – I’d seen some snippets of it on television and read some about it in the trade publications of the day – but growing up in a small, small, small town with only one or two video stores to our zip code meant that I wasn’t afforded as much opportunity to research and watch older flicks as were my big city counterparts. “You should definitely see it,” he insisted, “because it has much more to think about.”
Of course, I did eventually see it on VHS; and I watched most of it again not long after Lucas re-released it – with some digital refinements – in the early 2000’s. Though I stop short of christening it a work of sheer genius (as have some), I’ve always agreed that visually and thematically it’s superior to A New Hope (formerly known as Star Wars) in several significant ways but lacks that vivid spark necessary to light the same kind of fires in the consciousnesses of so many that Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Ben Kenobi, and Princess Leia did a few years later. Surprisingly, both films cover similar grounds thematically, but they’re literally worlds apart in style, substance, and execution.
Having recently had the chance to re-experience THX 1138 on home video, I wanted to finally use this space aboard SciFiHistory.Net to say something about the project and maybe even to demonstrate how a budding storyteller like Lucas had to, first, get the meatier ideas out of his system with that film in order to cleanse his intellectual palate for something suitable for mass consumption as he did a long time ago in that galaxy far, far away.
One of the things that the professor did fairly early on in the coursework was to openly quiz the class over what films we’d seen, what genres we preferred, and what our general aptitude toward film as an artform was. It was the kind of thing that really had no right or wrong answers and was solely intended to establish some kind of relational baseline between the academic and the students. To my credit, I had seen a great deal more of true classics – or, at least, those titles commonly accepted as cinematic highs – than my classmates (not an insult, just a memory); so, it was clear that the professor wanted to challenge my perception of filmdom’s good, bad, and ugly over our shared interest in features.
When I told him that 1977’s Star Wars was one of my personal favorites, he immediately wanted to know if I had seen George Lucas’ earlier effort, namely 1971’s THX 1138. At this point, I hadn’t – I’d seen some snippets of it on television and read some about it in the trade publications of the day – but growing up in a small, small, small town with only one or two video stores to our zip code meant that I wasn’t afforded as much opportunity to research and watch older flicks as were my big city counterparts. “You should definitely see it,” he insisted, “because it has much more to think about.”
Of course, I did eventually see it on VHS; and I watched most of it again not long after Lucas re-released it – with some digital refinements – in the early 2000’s. Though I stop short of christening it a work of sheer genius (as have some), I’ve always agreed that visually and thematically it’s superior to A New Hope (formerly known as Star Wars) in several significant ways but lacks that vivid spark necessary to light the same kind of fires in the consciousnesses of so many that Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Ben Kenobi, and Princess Leia did a few years later. Surprisingly, both films cover similar grounds thematically, but they’re literally worlds apart in style, substance, and execution.
Having recently had the chance to re-experience THX 1138 on home video, I wanted to finally use this space aboard SciFiHistory.Net to say something about the project and maybe even to demonstrate how a budding storyteller like Lucas had to, first, get the meatier ideas out of his system with that film in order to cleanse his intellectual palate for something suitable for mass consumption as he did a long time ago in that galaxy far, far away.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In the 25th century, a time when people have designations instead of names, a man, THX 1138, and a woman, LUH 3417, rebel against their rigidly controlled society.”
Let’s clear up any confusion right away: regardless of what you’ve heard, THX 1138 is not an easy meal.
As a story, it pretty much sticks to one track, but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to follow even though one might think it would. The story from George Lucas – and crafted for the screen by Lucas and Walter Murch – presents viewers with both characters and a world that needs a bit of time to digest; and, even then, it may not entirely make a great deal of sense. Some of this is deliberate, I suspect, and a good deal is owed to the fact that Lucas tried to control every conceivable angle with which to ruminate over this particular time and place. Be it sights and sounds … be it characters who kinda/sorta push the bounds of what’s expected … be it a narrative crescendo to a finale that just … well … ends … THX remains a curious vision of one man’s struggle to escape everything around him in more ways than one.
THX 1138 (played by Robert Duvall) is a laborer in a high-tech facility tasked with assembling the very robots which appear to have somewhat enslaved what remains of a subterranean civilization. While we’re never told precisely why these people have been conscripted to survive this way, it’s safe to assume that at some point in the distant past our cultural betters realized that perhaps the only means to avoid mass extinction would be to take complete control of a society and the people comprising it. In exchange, the government would provide all jobs, housing, food, etc., and they’d even go so far as to furnish entertainment best suited to no longer tax civilization with ideals of freedom, morality, and choice. Even the practice of faith would be monitored and approved by these somewhat silent overlords; and violations to any and all established public standards would be met with extreme incarceration.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In the 25th century, a time when people have designations instead of names, a man, THX 1138, and a woman, LUH 3417, rebel against their rigidly controlled society.”
Let’s clear up any confusion right away: regardless of what you’ve heard, THX 1138 is not an easy meal.
As a story, it pretty much sticks to one track, but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to follow even though one might think it would. The story from George Lucas – and crafted for the screen by Lucas and Walter Murch – presents viewers with both characters and a world that needs a bit of time to digest; and, even then, it may not entirely make a great deal of sense. Some of this is deliberate, I suspect, and a good deal is owed to the fact that Lucas tried to control every conceivable angle with which to ruminate over this particular time and place. Be it sights and sounds … be it characters who kinda/sorta push the bounds of what’s expected … be it a narrative crescendo to a finale that just … well … ends … THX remains a curious vision of one man’s struggle to escape everything around him in more ways than one.
THX 1138 (played by Robert Duvall) is a laborer in a high-tech facility tasked with assembling the very robots which appear to have somewhat enslaved what remains of a subterranean civilization. While we’re never told precisely why these people have been conscripted to survive this way, it’s safe to assume that at some point in the distant past our cultural betters realized that perhaps the only means to avoid mass extinction would be to take complete control of a society and the people comprising it. In exchange, the government would provide all jobs, housing, food, etc., and they’d even go so far as to furnish entertainment best suited to no longer tax civilization with ideals of freedom, morality, and choice. Even the practice of faith would be monitored and approved by these somewhat silent overlords; and violations to any and all established public standards would be met with extreme incarceration.
In this dystopian tomorrow of faceless tyranny, love is no longer necessary, so civilians are paired up by decree of the State. As such, THX shares a non-descript residence with LUH 3417 (Maggie McOmie), a female surveillance worker who has secretly been ignoring her government-mandated prescription regimen and has begun experiencing feelings of sexual attraction to her roommate. Gradually, LUH begins siphoning the pills of THX’s profile; and he, too, awakens to the prospect of a life without imposed inhibitions. Eventually, the two experience love and sexual gratification unlike anything they’ve known before; and this serves as the catalyst for the those monitoring the pair to unleash the powers of an oppressive régime on the lovers. They’re separated – for what they’re assured is their own good – and thrown into prison.
In stories like this, audiences would then be taken on a journey to see the ‘star-crossed soulmates’ reunited, but Lucas has plotted a very extreme and unflinching cultural hellscape for viewers.
THX and LUH are, briefly, rejoined; and yet it would appear to have been a decision made by unseen authorities more for study than anything further. The script never gives any context for this surprise conjugal reunion, meaning that watchers are free to make up their own mind about it. Initially, I wondered if LUH had simply explored this ‘prison without walls’ and found the man of her dreams trapped within; but given the fact that the two are allowed to rekindle their passions whilst being observed by state monitors suggests that perhaps it’s been a very long time since sexual activity has taken place, so long that these hidden government agents are inexorably curious just what criminal violations looked like in the days of old. Eventually, the mechanized police robots arrive – clearly spoiling the afterglow – and separate the lovers with LUH never to be seen again (though her fate is clarified before the ending).
At this point, the film takes yet another left turn as THX finds himself trapped in what appears to be an endless prison situated in some kind of existential void, surrounded by fellow inmates who appear to be dramatically off their respective ‘rockers’ in ways too curious to categorize. I suspect a great many academics have studied these scenes and the dialogue, assigning any number of theories as to what Lucas and Murch may’ve been trying to say about this world and its inhabitants. Rather than even venture a guess, I’ll clarify that, chiefly, the sequence exists only to reunite THX with SEN 5241 (Donald Pleasence), the architect responsible for THX and LUH’s lawbreaking having been discovered in the first place. Instead of harboring a grudge against the man (who mutters enough gibberish to suggest he’s a bit touched in the head), THX welcomes him along the journey to locate his missing lover and escape from the city once and for all.
In stories like this, audiences would then be taken on a journey to see the ‘star-crossed soulmates’ reunited, but Lucas has plotted a very extreme and unflinching cultural hellscape for viewers.
THX and LUH are, briefly, rejoined; and yet it would appear to have been a decision made by unseen authorities more for study than anything further. The script never gives any context for this surprise conjugal reunion, meaning that watchers are free to make up their own mind about it. Initially, I wondered if LUH had simply explored this ‘prison without walls’ and found the man of her dreams trapped within; but given the fact that the two are allowed to rekindle their passions whilst being observed by state monitors suggests that perhaps it’s been a very long time since sexual activity has taken place, so long that these hidden government agents are inexorably curious just what criminal violations looked like in the days of old. Eventually, the mechanized police robots arrive – clearly spoiling the afterglow – and separate the lovers with LUH never to be seen again (though her fate is clarified before the ending).
At this point, the film takes yet another left turn as THX finds himself trapped in what appears to be an endless prison situated in some kind of existential void, surrounded by fellow inmates who appear to be dramatically off their respective ‘rockers’ in ways too curious to categorize. I suspect a great many academics have studied these scenes and the dialogue, assigning any number of theories as to what Lucas and Murch may’ve been trying to say about this world and its inhabitants. Rather than even venture a guess, I’ll clarify that, chiefly, the sequence exists only to reunite THX with SEN 5241 (Donald Pleasence), the architect responsible for THX and LUH’s lawbreaking having been discovered in the first place. Instead of harboring a grudge against the man (who mutters enough gibberish to suggest he’s a bit touched in the head), THX welcomes him along the journey to locate his missing lover and escape from the city once and for all.
Roughly the final third of the movie serves as a somewhat traditional Science Fiction action serial. THX and SEN are joined by SRT (Don Pedro Colley), a hologram who has somehow found sentience in this world beneath the Earth; and – as a magical tour guide – he can provide them with the directions they need to break out of prison and navigate the unknown labyrinth of layers between them and safety. They’re soon separated from SEN – whose character has his own journey to worry about – leaving THX and SRT to discover a few bitter truths about life under Big Government that, frankly, all of us likely saw coming. This isn’t to say it’s disappointing in any way; rather, it’s a somewhat natural extrapolation of a world that’s sacrificed personal identity in favor of collective magisterial infinity.
In some ways, it’s difficult to summarize just what THX 1138 could mean.
Generally, the film is respectfully open-ended, implying that it’s up to the viewer to make what he will of all this. Sometimes it’s clearly anti-collectivism – what with its obvious stance on capitalism largely being manipulated by the powers that be simply to give a society something to do – and, at other times, it dishes up some cautionary imagery on the dangers of participating for participation’s sake. The only characters in here who make declarations about what to do, when to do it, what could be best, etc. are those featured in the looney bin of a prison block; and given that they’re not exactly portrayed in the best light I’m inclined to dismiss any interpretation signifying that Lucas was spinning an authentic morality tale with some closing message here. Instead, I think he only intended to show a universe with some increasingly dangerous and intrusive authoritarianism. Otherwise, why would so much of this journey be so … abstract? So open to interpretation? It’s almost as if I can hear a tiny voice in my head saying, “Draw your own conclusion … because that’s all that really matters.”
Still, I’d be remiss in my duties of critiquing THX if I failed to mention how stunning it is aesthetically. Granted, some of this is accomplished purely with special effects, but rarely have I watched a feature wherein every single scene felt as if it was intentionally designed to be crafted only one way, with one perspective, and still with nothing overtly judgmental. When it would be easy to draw some suppositions about what a storyteller intended with a specific sequence, I’d still harken back to how the individual scenes play out entirely free of any narrative weight, allowing and encouraging me to fill that void with what I believe is most relevant in the pictures. There is plenty to think about once the film ends; and yet – like one of those ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ constructs – you get to pilot your own journey into this unknown. That’s a rare achievement, and one deserving of some praise.
In some ways, it’s difficult to summarize just what THX 1138 could mean.
Generally, the film is respectfully open-ended, implying that it’s up to the viewer to make what he will of all this. Sometimes it’s clearly anti-collectivism – what with its obvious stance on capitalism largely being manipulated by the powers that be simply to give a society something to do – and, at other times, it dishes up some cautionary imagery on the dangers of participating for participation’s sake. The only characters in here who make declarations about what to do, when to do it, what could be best, etc. are those featured in the looney bin of a prison block; and given that they’re not exactly portrayed in the best light I’m inclined to dismiss any interpretation signifying that Lucas was spinning an authentic morality tale with some closing message here. Instead, I think he only intended to show a universe with some increasingly dangerous and intrusive authoritarianism. Otherwise, why would so much of this journey be so … abstract? So open to interpretation? It’s almost as if I can hear a tiny voice in my head saying, “Draw your own conclusion … because that’s all that really matters.”
Still, I’d be remiss in my duties of critiquing THX if I failed to mention how stunning it is aesthetically. Granted, some of this is accomplished purely with special effects, but rarely have I watched a feature wherein every single scene felt as if it was intentionally designed to be crafted only one way, with one perspective, and still with nothing overtly judgmental. When it would be easy to draw some suppositions about what a storyteller intended with a specific sequence, I’d still harken back to how the individual scenes play out entirely free of any narrative weight, allowing and encouraging me to fill that void with what I believe is most relevant in the pictures. There is plenty to think about once the film ends; and yet – like one of those ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ constructs – you get to pilot your own journey into this unknown. That’s a rare achievement, and one deserving of some praise.
Now, that film professor I mentioned above did go on to suggest that THX 1138 was – in his opinion – the ‘Citizen Kane’ of dystopia films. For what it’s worth, I’ve no reason to discount that assessment in any way. Arguably, THX fits on the bookshelf alongside a great many other entries from that era – 1972’s Silent Running, 1972’s Z.P.G. (aka Dead Planet), 1973’s Soylent Green, even 1975’s Rollerball to a lesser degree. It shares the same DNA as those cerebral yarns; and yet it similarly rejects the gravitation weight of a traditional narrative needing to be perfectly tied up with some closing message. It both presents its audience with something to think about and leaves them in the exact same position; and that doesn’t happen all that often. That is probably the single greatest reason to see this even if it ends up meaning little after all.
Those of you who’ve followed Lucas’s career know of his penchant for – ahem – tweaking things in his projects well after they’ve been screened by audiences; and – for better or worse – THX is no different.
In 2004, the creator released a new ‘Director’s Cut,’ one which was heavily augmented (my opinion, not others) with CGI inserts here and there – nothing desperately intrusive but still a bit obvious given effects’ standards of the early 1970’s – along with a few scene extensions meant to better create a seamless cinematic experience. While, yes, I can concede that the new material truly made no thematic alterations to any elements of the well-established story, there’s still that creepy sense of incongruity when ‘images of today’ intersect with ‘images of yesterday.’ However, as I didn’t see THX in theaters and have only experienced it via television broadcasts and home video, I really don’t feel all that qualified to address the changes from any critical springboard. I’m no fan of creative do-overs – the kind that Lucas has embraced – but at this juncture all I can say is “it is what it is.”
Those of you who’ve followed Lucas’s career know of his penchant for – ahem – tweaking things in his projects well after they’ve been screened by audiences; and – for better or worse – THX is no different.
In 2004, the creator released a new ‘Director’s Cut,’ one which was heavily augmented (my opinion, not others) with CGI inserts here and there – nothing desperately intrusive but still a bit obvious given effects’ standards of the early 1970’s – along with a few scene extensions meant to better create a seamless cinematic experience. While, yes, I can concede that the new material truly made no thematic alterations to any elements of the well-established story, there’s still that creepy sense of incongruity when ‘images of today’ intersect with ‘images of yesterday.’ However, as I didn’t see THX in theaters and have only experienced it via television broadcasts and home video, I really don’t feel all that qualified to address the changes from any critical springboard. I’m no fan of creative do-overs – the kind that Lucas has embraced – but at this juncture all I can say is “it is what it is.”
THX 1138 (1971) (2004) was produced by American Zoetrope and Warner Bros. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks as Allied Vaughn and Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds to be pretty damn exceptional from start-to-finish: other than the digital blemishes afforded from some newly-inserted special effects (rather obvious), the story remains a feast for the eyes, ears, and mind for those of us who embrace such experiences. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts the theatrical trailer along with an audio commentary hosted by Lucas and co-screenwriter Walter Murch (a bit meandering but still worth a listen): though I could be wrong, it doesn’t sound as if the two were present for the same recording, so I’m thinking this was something assembled after-the-fact specifically for the 2004 re-release.
Strongly Recommended.
Whether you like it or not, director George Lucas excelled at presenting universes that were worthy of studying while appearing to have been inhabited: and 1971’s THX 1138 serves as yet one more example of how one of the industry’s most successful auteurs had something he wanted to get off his chest before undertaking the task of redefining the way motion pictures were made and received by audiences. Unlike his much-celebrated Star Wars, however, THX offers so easy adventures or high-spirited match-ups. This is meant to be watched and ruminated over – perhaps for years, even – making it an entirely different film altogether that still looks like it could take place on some galaxy’s outer rim. About as unique a flick as you’re about to see … if you’re ready, willing, and able to give it the chance.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary DVD of THX 1138: The George Lucas Director’s Cut (1971) (2004) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Strongly Recommended.
Whether you like it or not, director George Lucas excelled at presenting universes that were worthy of studying while appearing to have been inhabited: and 1971’s THX 1138 serves as yet one more example of how one of the industry’s most successful auteurs had something he wanted to get off his chest before undertaking the task of redefining the way motion pictures were made and received by audiences. Unlike his much-celebrated Star Wars, however, THX offers so easy adventures or high-spirited match-ups. This is meant to be watched and ruminated over – perhaps for years, even – making it an entirely different film altogether that still looks like it could take place on some galaxy’s outer rim. About as unique a flick as you’re about to see … if you’re ready, willing, and able to give it the chance.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary DVD of THX 1138: The George Lucas Director’s Cut (1971) (2004) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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