Ran "Raw Deal" (1986) and "The Sixth Day" (2000) back to back and its interesting to see the embodiment of decadence. Fourteen years can make a big difference. I don't mean Arnold's aging. That's a given for all of us. And I don't mean his graceless and wooden movements. That was always a given for Arnold. I mean the fact that Arnold's earlier movies were usually more or less realistic, although they sometimes reached the parameters of possibility. But later they tended to transform themselves into logical puzzles enhanced by an abundance of computer-generated images.
In "Raw Deal," for instance, Arnold takes a few belts in the jaw, but he can clean out a nest of a dozen or more gangsters killing every one of them. They're all prepared and armed to the teeth but it makes no difference. They shoot and miss. Arnold doesn't miss. But that aside, it's a realistic movie set in the present. We can at least IMAGINE that Arnold can shoot that much better than everyone else. The story even reaches for the surreal at times. His drunken wife throws a cake at him. "You should not dwink and bake," he remarks unflappably. Later he kicks out the windshield of his Caddy convertible and drives wildly through a quarry full of enemies with machine guns. He mows them merrily down while "I Don't Get No Satisfaction" plays on his tape.
In "The Sixth Day" the wit and self parody are largely absent. The pieces of the logical puzzle are there but no one really bothers to fit them together. One or two comments and Arnold has had enough of what he calls "philosophy." It's about cloning and the management and bioethics of same. The villains, for instance -- Tony Goldwyn in a fine performance -- have built a life-limiting disorder into each of their clones because even after cloning a psychopath there is still the possibility of redemption. What do you do if you encounter someone who is your identical clone, right down to the slightest episodic memory from childhood, carrying the same devotion to your wife and daughter as you -- and he, all unwittingly, has taken your place? You have a chance to murder him but should you? He is, in every sense except birthing, a second you, although he doesn't know he is. Isn't that murder? How about -- suicide?
In any case, despite the zappy editing and loud noises, there are the usual moments of comedy. One young Gothic heavy has been killed and cloned so many times he's beginning to complain about a sore neck and has to be reminded that his spine was fractured in a previous life. A beautiful Goth woman with neon-blue hair is killed and then freshly reconstituted. She leaps nude from the table and rushes to a mirror, flushed with anger. "Now I have to pierce my ears again!"
In "Raw Deal," for instance, Arnold takes a few belts in the jaw, but he can clean out a nest of a dozen or more gangsters killing every one of them. They're all prepared and armed to the teeth but it makes no difference. They shoot and miss. Arnold doesn't miss. But that aside, it's a realistic movie set in the present. We can at least IMAGINE that Arnold can shoot that much better than everyone else. The story even reaches for the surreal at times. His drunken wife throws a cake at him. "You should not dwink and bake," he remarks unflappably. Later he kicks out the windshield of his Caddy convertible and drives wildly through a quarry full of enemies with machine guns. He mows them merrily down while "I Don't Get No Satisfaction" plays on his tape.
In "The Sixth Day" the wit and self parody are largely absent. The pieces of the logical puzzle are there but no one really bothers to fit them together. One or two comments and Arnold has had enough of what he calls "philosophy." It's about cloning and the management and bioethics of same. The villains, for instance -- Tony Goldwyn in a fine performance -- have built a life-limiting disorder into each of their clones because even after cloning a psychopath there is still the possibility of redemption. What do you do if you encounter someone who is your identical clone, right down to the slightest episodic memory from childhood, carrying the same devotion to your wife and daughter as you -- and he, all unwittingly, has taken your place? You have a chance to murder him but should you? He is, in every sense except birthing, a second you, although he doesn't know he is. Isn't that murder? How about -- suicide?
In any case, despite the zappy editing and loud noises, there are the usual moments of comedy. One young Gothic heavy has been killed and cloned so many times he's beginning to complain about a sore neck and has to be reminded that his spine was fractured in a previous life. A beautiful Goth woman with neon-blue hair is killed and then freshly reconstituted. She leaps nude from the table and rushes to a mirror, flushed with anger. "Now I have to pierce my ears again!"