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| "You are fined one credit for a violation of the Verbal Morality Statute." |
Just because the 1993 film “Demolition Man” was intended as more of a crowd-pleasing blockbuster release than other dystopian science fiction films like “Blade Runner”, “Alien” and others not directed by Sir Ridley Scott aspired to be, it didn’t make it any less prescient.
I had mistaken police sergeant John Spartan’s (Sylvester Stallone) not knowing about the “three seashells”, the mysterious bathroom tools that are never explained, as being no more than a running joke, even making for the final laugh as the credits roll. But if the effect is to make a dinosaur out of Spartan, thawed out of a cryogenic prison sentence to stop similarly old-school terrorist Simon Phoenix (Wesley Snipes), then viewing it over thirty years later makes dinosaurs of us all.
The film is always set in “the future”, beginning in a 1996 that depicts the Hollywood sign on fire amid rampant lawlessness, a suitably extreme situation whereby cryogenic, mind-rectifying sentences are a logical answer, leading to the repressed, peaceful future of 2032 - as confirmed by prison warden William Smithers, “Things don’t happen anymore. We’ve taken care of that.”
In this future, the hellscape of Los Angeles was supposedly levelled by a 2010 earthquake known as “The Big One”. The new city of “San Angeles” – linked with San Diego and Santa Barbara, and factoring no further into the plot – is layered over the remains, forcing people who don’t assimilate to the new regime underground. The soft and stilted nature of speech, with mentions of “joy-joy”, “be well” and the elimination of the nature of death – “I thought your life force had been prematurely terminated!” – could theoretically be in response to a great trauma that remade society. However, speech is also controlled automatically: even at home, but oddly not in your car, swearing incurs a one credit fine for violating the “Verbal Morality Statute”, although doing it under your breath is half the price.
Everyone is tracked, organic microchips in everyone’s hand, while facilitating a cashless society, also means the police “can zero in on anyone at any time”, although the ineffectual nature of the police, from having so little crime to deal with, means bad decisions are made – attempting to apprehend Phoenix, who has no microchip, relies on a video tutorial consulted at the scene, while using artificial intelligence to work out where he could have gone – find a drug laboratory, then start a crime syndicate – is repudiated by reasoning, like heading to an museum exhibit of firearms. Waiting for Phoenix to kill again wouldn’t be an option now, but human reasoning in 2032 makes it a good place to start.
Police officer Lenina Huxley (Sandra Bullock), someone fascinated by, and authoritative of, 20th century culture, is upbraided by her chief, George Earle (Bob Gunton): “I monitored your disheartening and distressing comments to the warden this morning. Do you really long for chaos and disharmony? Your fascination with the vulgar 20th century seems to be affecting your better judgement. You realize you're setting a bad example for other officers and sworn personnel.” Huxley’s response is rote: “Thank you for the attitude adjustment, Chief Earle. Info assimilated.” And yet, Earle sees no problem in calling Spartan an “animal”, “caveman” and “primate”, just as the city’s leader Raymond Cocteau (Nigel Hawthorne) calls the underground dwellers “scraps”. These slurs are acceptable, as it is only the presence of certain words that earn punishment – Spartan uses the word “dirtbag” in one scene, apparently free of charge.
Huxley is knocked out towards the end in order to have the final showdown between the two hard-bodied men, Spartan and Phoenix, which wouldn’t have happened if Huxley was being played in 1993 by Geena Davis – Bullock’s full action movie career did not start until “Speed” the following year. A separate film exists within this about Huxley rebelling against her dystopian present through her nostalgia for the old times, like an academic version of “Nineteen Eighty-Four” but with more butchered idioms – “He's finally matched his meet. You really licked his ass.” – and more analysis of how people used to behave before making physical contact became taboo: “If you'd read my study, you'd know this is how insecure heterosexual males used to bond.”
You can see where the present day would facilitate some of these elements. The ever-present wall units dispensing paper fines for swearing would be covered by text messages to your phone, acting as the microchip in your hand, its microphone having picked up the word while you reacted to a video tutorial. I am guessing social media, never mentioned, is banned, missing the opportunity to let the people police themselves. I am not sure about the enjoyment of “mini-tunes”, formerly advertising jingles, unless either advertising or capitalism is banned in San Angeles, leaving unironic nostalgic enjoyment – the clipped and abbreviated nature of social media videos, particularly those of TikTok, fit that niche now.
It is insinuated that Cocteau had the right plan at the right time, rebuilding the city, while making the “scraps”, particularly one Edgar Friendly (Denis Leary, playing Denis Leary), the enemy. “See, according to Cocteau's plan, I'm the enemy. Cause I like to think, I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech and freedom of choice... You wanna live on top, you gotta live Cocteau's way. What he wants, when he wants, how he wants. Your other choice: come down here, maybe starve to death.” He is not a Cocteau-like leader – “I'm no leader. I do what I have to do. Sometimes, people come with me” – but he is portrayed to us as the de facto anti-fascist leader. I expect elections followed later.
I was more impressed with “Demolition Man” in hindsight than I expected, but I still don’t buy Taco Bell winning the restaurant franchise wars. Did McDonald’s lose by changing the Filet-O-Fish again?