John McClane is a stranger in a strange land. He has traveled into a new reality, the reality of late-capitalist globalism, in an attempt to rescue his family (and Christmas) from a culture of greed and excess. Mr. Takagi has just informed the guests that, "this has been one of the greatest years in the history of the Nakatomi Corporation". Bach's highly symbolic Baroque masterpiece, the Brandenburg Concierto No. III, plays from the balcony. It is Christmas eve, but just barely. Even the Christmas trees (in the downstairs lobby and at the 30th floor) seem to stand as an awkward reminder of this world's worship of form over substance, the immediate over the lasting, the material over the metaphysical.
The use of these trees in architectural space (either intended or implicit by virtue of the unique 'language' of the space) represents a hermenutical key that I don't think has been applied to Die Hard.
The Architecture of the Non-Place:
From Parking garage to lobby, to executive lobby, to executive offices and the Japanese decor of Mr. Takagi's board room, to stairwells, to computer center, to the unfinished 32 floor, to elevator shaft, air shaft, and the roof, Die Hard is a film about the 'Non-Places' of supermodernity. While the architecture of Nakatomi Plaza is about as aesthetically pleasing as a tape deck, Jan de Bont's slow and disciplined camera movement helps us understand the logic of its varying spaces. Not trained by MTV or commercial television, de Bont resists short shots that must be layered in the editing room to create tension (although when done well it can allow us to experience subjectively). This technique allows these late-modern architectural spaces to impose their meaning upon scenes.
So, for example, in the two Christmas tree scenes (above) we see how the void of the lobby is a space for John to simply pass through. Whatever mean John, and the tree, bring to that space is swallowed up, truncated, and forced through the space. This is evident when John attempts to whistle Jingle Bells as he walks to the elevator --rather than jolly, the sound is empty. The sense is ominous and even 'brutal'.
In a different way, the executive lobby accomplishes the same goal. The executive lobby is designed to make people feel as though they are basking under the cultured and opulent rays of Mr. Takagi's leadership. Natural stone, the peaceful sound of the waterfall trickling, green plants and resplendent views. The 30th floor is a hyperreal non-space. It is an approximation of goodness and joy (which is locked away in Mr. Takagi's vault). And similar to the Christmas tree in the lobby, between the drunken revelry and the Baroque harmonies of Bach the Christmas tree might as well be a stuffed bear. These readings, however subconscious, factor into every varied space throughout the film.
This importance on scale and architecture is never more evident than in the model room scene where Mr. Takagi keeps scaled representations of Nakatomi Corporation's varied exploits and projects around the world. "And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer", Hans Gruber recites upon seeing Nakatomi Plaza.
The non-place architecture of Nakatomi Plaza is a trompe l'oeil world of beauty, culture, technology, and varying degrees of moral degradations. It is the budding lifeworld of globalism, a space that is neither American nor Japanese, but hyper-capitalist.
"You throw quite a party," says John McClane when first meeting Mr. Takagi. "I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan," he snidely adds. "Hey, we're flexible. Pearl Harbor didn't work out so we got you tape decks," replies Mr. Takagi, head executive of Nakatomi Corporation in America. At this point the reader should be reminded that after the most catastrophic event in human history, World War 2, the war machine of Japan, Germany and America were transformed into a different kind of weapon ... the market machine. Honda, Mitsubishi, Sony, Toyota, Volkswagen for the masses, Mercedes and BMW for the Yuppies, and suburban dreams (with all the fixins) for the middle class; in the ashes of World War 2 a new world of mass reproduced commodity and international capital was born. Canned goods, sliced white bread, industrialized slaughter houses, chicken prison camps. Our inheritance was rich and cheap, but its underbelly dark and orc-like.
It should be of no surprise then that yet another element is added to John McClane's Christmas eve: the German financial terrorist Hans Gruber.
Ode To Joy:
And so we come to the most (in)famous cinematic device in Die Hard: Michael Kamen's use of Beethoven's 9th symphony Ode to Joy theme. In 1988, I'm sure the music was heard with a strong sense of irony and humor, but 25 years later its use as a leitmotif for the struggle for the true meaning of Christmas (not for the terrorists themselves) is unmistakable. Hear the cello's calling out from behind the vault with Beethoven's classic melody when Hans Gruber sees it for the first time. The shot is long and either overly dramatic or another moment where a character finds themselves on a threshold.
Let me say this: I like Hans Gruber and I think we are asked to also. His refinement is a far cry from the coke snorting, cowardly, yuppie, Ellis. But Hans Gruber's refinement and culture is misdirected. "Ladies and gentlemen. Due to the Nakatomi Corporation's legacy of greed around the globe, they are about to be taught a lesson in the real use of power," states Has Gruber. The joy he seeks is as evanescent as Mr. Takagi and Nakatomi Corporation's --material fulfilment and late-capitalist greed which is calcified, commodified, represented (as a macguffin) in the $620 million fiat dollars in bearer bonds (I mean, what is that anyways?).
I see now that Hans Gruber is the Fascist impulses the free world attempted to vanquish in the twentieth century, now transformed into wall street greed using the power of the state to protect themselves. Quite simply, Hans Gruber is a raider ... a hyper-capitalist junk-bond raider!
In Part 3 we will examine the battle for the soul and joy of Christmas and the varied responses in John McClane/Roy Rogers, Sgt. Powell, Dept. Chief of Police Robinson, and the Agents 'Smith' to hyper-capitalist Christmas materialism/consumerism.
Christmas is up for grabs. Yet there's a big difference between believers having that conversation vs being told what it is by a bunch of gramsci-loving atheists.
ps., bearer bonds are like a check with nobody's name on it. Whoever bears them owns the wealth they are backed by. Like Casablanca's papers of transit.
Posted by: Jesusland | December 27, 2010 at 03:01 PM
That makes the bearer bonds a macguffin all the more!
I hear what you're saying about the differences in conversation and I'm hoping Part 3 will address that. But, when the situation (why Christmas is a tradition of value that shouldn't be shunned) is considered in terms of architecture ... the very scaffolding / structure of the conversation ... then maybe there isn't as much difference as you might like parse out.
With that said, I'm not trying to create a definitive reading of Die Hard or extract a perfect one-to-one picture to be consumed or disseminated as a weapon. I'm really trying to explore why I love watching the movie during Christmastide and these are the elements that keep coming to mind.
Posted by: TOJ | December 27, 2010 at 03:14 PM