Twenty years after scaly aliens arrive in Johannesburg, the unfortunate beasts are still being detained in a crumbling shantytown. As one local black lady puts it, with no little historical irony, “At least they’re keeping them separate from us.” Enter Wikus van der Merwe (Sharlto Copley) , a salaryman working for his sinister father-in-law’s megacorp, Multi-National United. While entrusted with moving the ‘prawns’ (as they are pejoratively known) from District 9 to somewhere out of sight and mind, our hero contracts a mysterious virus with devastating effects.
Hold onto your hats, culture vultures. If you’re wondering why all the young internet hipsters have adopted “Fock off” as their rebuttal of choice, District 9 is the answer. Neill Blomkamp’s superb science-fiction debut works equally well as a metaphor for apartheid and a white-knuckle thriller. They’re calling it the new Matrix, and while D9 comfortably recreates the sui generis thrills of seeing the Wachowski Brothers’ finest for the first time, it’s an even better picture than that comparison suggests.
Arriving under the auspices of headlining producer, Peter Jackson - a man who knows a thing or two about superior blockbusters - Mr.Blomkamp’s thrilling entertainment simply never puts a foot wrong. Its dystopian premise is given credence by beautifully observed faux-documentary inserts. Its big ideas are not allowed to overshadow kick-ass alien stand offs. Its social conscience is never polemical and often humorous; why preach when there’s a helpful in-vehicle voice cheerily telling its military occupants that “a smile is cheaper than a bullet”?
The film’s unexpected top spot triumph at the US box office may even be enough to restore our faith in the movie-going public. That’s no mean feat when you consider Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen has taken $397,300,205 to date. Genius will out. Sometimes.