So I finally saw District 9 a few weeks ago (I know, I know; that was so 2009 but that’s life right now; I run about a year or two behind on movies) and I’m still not totally sure what to make of it. My sister warned me of the gore (which, to my dismay, I did find a little too gratuitous at times—meaning beyond what the story really needed) and the lack of creative vocabulary (the main character seemed to forget any adjective, adverb—and verb, in some cases—other than the f-bomb). And so maybe her lack of enthusiasm countered my excitement from the positive reviews that the movie garnered upon release. There is always inherent risk in trying to evaluate a movie when expectations are not completely objective (i.e., either too high or too low). What ended up really impressing me about District 9, despite its flaws, was the story that is the film’s heart.

One of the things that I read so much about District 9 was that it was “realistic.” I always find that adjective full of irony when discussing science fiction and fantasy. I suppose that’s what we want our speculative stories to be, though, right? Realistic, aka believable. Isn’t that what science fiction is all about: expanding imagination of what’s possible without the artificially imposed limits of current scientific perception?

The technological/scientific implications of that question are for another blog post. What I think makes a story realistic (and of higher quality) is if the story can convince the reader to “suspend their disbelief” (to borrow the phrase) in both a vast and personal way.

We as readers and viewers perceive a story through our understanding of the world around us. If a story can successfully convince us that its milieu is plausible based on its own rules/laws (which may or may not be close to reality), then we can believe in that world. We are therefore more inspired, saddened, entertained, and/or left breathless by the story because what starts to matter is the people in the story. If we’re constantly baffled by the stupidity or illogic of a science fiction/fantasy milieu, how can we really believe that the situations/character of the people will be any less stupid/illogical? [As an aside, sometimes the mileu is so well developed and believable and awe-inspiring that a story of lower quality becomes even more of an annoying letdown due to the contrast; see Avatar.]

Because the milieu was realistic (at least enough), I think District 9 nailed the personal journey becomes all the more powerful. The main character, Wikus, is a relatively normal guy with a bureaucratic job. He’s not a super CIA agent with years of combat training that he suddenly remembers when he’s cornered. He’s a relatively smart yet normal guy who’s trying hard to be a good guy. And in the climax of the film, he gives into the primal human instinct of self-preservation when he betrays the prawn (alien) who he’s been trying to help. Something that the “everyman” would probably do in the same situation.

I found myself rooting for Wikus to do the right thing and being saddened when he didn’t. And the film lets Wikus run away just long enough to convince you that he really is too afraid to do the right thing because he is us, the average person trying to make it through the world. And in that situation (and in countless others) we want to believe that we would do the selfless and noble thing, but in our innermost self, we’re afraid we won’t.

And just when I wondered if it was over, when my hope in ordinary people was dashed once again, Wikus stops and turns around to do the noble, selfless, and difficult thing that we, deep down, all hope that we would do. The milieu was believable and realistic enough that the personal, tragic journey of the main character means a great deal and we end up learning a little bit about our own humanity in the process.

I think that’s the beauty of science fiction: yes, ordinary people rising above themselves to do something noble and great in an extraordinary situation—or even an ordinary one!—has been portrayed and told a thousand times. But it’s been told a thousand times because we yearn for the reminder of that possibility in us. Science fiction and fantasy allow us to look at that journey in new and different and imaginative and impossible ways so that when the choices we face seem just as impossible, maybe, just maybe we would do the right thing too.