In a summer dominated by robots the size of dump trucks ramming into one another like lobotomized sumo wrestlers, and American super-soldiers sword-fighting with ninjas while leapfrogging down city streets, District 9 comes as a real breath of fresh air. This little gem from Johannesburg, produced by ringmaster Peter Jackson, is a gritty exercise in socio-political satire, a wrenching story of personal sacrifice and love (both human and non-human), and, especially in its blazing final act, one hellacious thrill ride. The movie seamlessly blends documentary style and traditional cinematic techniques in a way that keeps viewers on edge and unsure what will come next.

First-time South African director and co-writer Neill Blomkamp, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, has proven two things with this picture. First, you don’t need two hundred million dollars and a star-studded cast to make a riveting science fiction film. In fact, maybe that’s exactly what you don’t want. Second, even concepts that seem stale can not only be revitalized but super-charged with the right infusion of vision and youthful energy.

Blomkamp has expanded the premise of his award-winning, six minute short film Alive in Joburg (which can be seen in its entirety for free at www.spyfilms.com), and layered on more political commentary. District 9 is intentionally modeled after Cape Town’s notorious District 6, a segregation camp that saw the forced relocation of sixty-thousand blacks during the Apartheid regime. The film exploits this connection well.

Twenty eight years ago, an enormous alien spaceship entered our atmosphere and took up a permanent position several thousand feet above Johannesburg, South Africa. After its arrival, with the notable exception of the jettison of what appeared to be a now-missing command pod, there was no further activity. No movement. No communication. Nothing. Finally, a decision was made to breach the ship’s hull. Military and scientific teams cut their way through with welding torches and discover hundreds of thousands of bipedal insects—vaguely human in shape—living in squalor. Sick. Malnourished. Desperate.

These aliens, derisively called prawns by the press, are ultimately relocated to a ghetto known as District 9 on the outskirts of the city. The prawns do not assimilate into our society. They appear to be largely unskilled and incapable of grasping the complexities of our civilization and culture. There is a good deal of talking head speculation that they are merely the unschooled working classes of the alien species; that the leadership ranks are either absent or in hiding. The situation worsens with time. District 9 devolves into a stinking, garbage-ridden slum. The prawns become the targets of vicious scams by rival minorities, particularly the Nigerians, who operate a massive black-market underground—selling cans of cat food, which the prawns can’t get enough of, at exorbitant prices, and providing other, far less savory services and commodities

The story picks up with the anti-alien public sentiment at fever pitch. The prawns are being blamed for just about every societal ill. The government of South Africa asks Multi-National United (“MNU”), the private corporation hired to manage the aliens, to move them, voluntarily if possible, forcibly if necessary, to a more secure remote encampment two hundred miles north. We learn quickly enough that MNU is unconcerned with the plight of the prawns themselves. Its sole interest is in finding a way to master the aliens’ technology - specifically their weaponry. As it turns out, the prawns brought several different types of energy rifle, and a few scattered battle suits, down with them in their hasty evacuation from the mothership. The problem is, even when MNU finds these guns—hidden away in the ghetto or simply discarded in midden heaps, they cannot be used. Only prawn DNA can interface biologically with the weapons. When a human or a machine tries to fire them, nothing happens.

MNU field operative Wikus van der Merwe (Sharlto Copley), who happens to be married the daughter of the corporation’s CEO, is given command of the relocation effort. Wikus, while a basically decent man, lacks the skills and the personality to supervise such a massive effort. Things get out of hand quickly. Dozens of prawns are killed.

In the midst of the chaos, Wikus and his entourage of petty bureaucrats, private security agents, and cameramen, stumble upon a curious hovel—one full of cannibalized computer equipment and inhabited by two unusually intelligent adult prawns and a precocious child. While inspecting the prawns’ makeshift laboratory, Wikus accidentally opens a cannister containing a pressurized alien liquid. The substance sprays across his face, infecting him. He grows violently ill, and is rushed to the hospital. While under observation, he begins to morph into an alien.

MNU immediately recognizes the import of this transformation. Wikus, now imbued with human and prawn DNA, is capable of operating the aliens’ weapons. Wikus’s own father-in-law orders that he be killed and his organs and extremities harvested for study and possible replication

Wikus struggles with his captors, breaks free, and escapes. Fake media stories are released portraying him as a perverted psychopath. He becomes a pariah. Alone and on the lam, he makes his way on foot back to District 9, and seeks refuge with the prawns.

It is there that he learns the awesome secret lying underneath the hovel, and must ultimately face the terrible truth of his own destiny.

Oh, and there are some truly eye-popping gunfights along the way.

Sharlto Copley, a likeable South African actor with essentially no professional credentials to his name, delivers the only real performance of the film. And it’s a bravura turn. Most of the other players are either talking heads or minor characters. They exist merely to get us places, make us understand things, or trigger responses from the lead. Wikus’s maturation from middle managment nobody to self-sacrificing hero forms the backbone of the film. Without it, District 9 would be a mildly engrossing riff on Alien Nation.

Clinton Shorter’s unobtrusive and regionally accurate score, full of distant percussion and voices, is almost unnoticeable. But listen for it. It’s there. It’s just been fitted in so tightly with the visuals that they appear to be one package.

Now there are, as always, a few issues with the story. For instance, we never learn why the aliens came to Earth. No explanation is ever given as to why after twenty-eight years we haven’t completely explored the mothership, or at least established research sites on it. But these are quibbles. Overall, the story holds together nicely.

Funny to think we have the collapse of the big budget production of Halo to thank for this classic. That’s right. Twentieth Century Fox and Microsoft had tapped Jackson to produce Halo, and Jackson in turn had chosen Blomkamp to direct. But ballooning costs and scripting problems torpedoed the entire venture. Jackson salvaged some of the effects, and retained virtually all of the creative and production crew. Then, in a bold move, he decided to build a feature-length treatment out of Alive in Joburg.

The rest, as they say, is history.

It has been a good year so far for smart SF. First we had Alex Rivera’s visionary Sleep Dealer. Then came Duncan Jones’s quiet masterpiece Moon. And now Blomkamp’s rip-roaring District 9.

Here’s hoping the trend continues!

District 9
TriStar Pictures
WARNER BROS.
U.S. (Limited) Release Date: August 14, 2009
Director: Neill Blomkamp
Screen writers:Neill Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell
Running Time: 112 minutes