RoboCop, Messiahs, and Surviving Corporate America

I actually owe my exposure to Paul Verhoeven's RoboCop (1987) to the first season of NBC's Community, when the characters watch and later recreate a parodied film called "Kickpuncher." It remained on my watch list for a long time until I saw the trailer for the remake that will come out later this year, and decided I had better at least see the original before it was adulterated by yet another remake. From the little (that is, next to nothing) that I knew about it, I wasn't expecting a particularly deep film going in. Thankfully, I was proven wrong. I expected to see a trashy 80’s action-sci-fi—and in many ways, that’s what RoboCop is—and not much more, but I was also taken aback by the philosophical nature of the film and the many issues it tackles. The film is over-the-top, ultra-violent, and often cheesy, but it offers a serious commentary on what it means to be human and what it sees as the disintegration of corporate America.

The 80's were a decade of unprecedented technological innovation, and the possibilities both offered hope for a solution to serious issues as well as fear of what the future might hold. RoboCop reflects these social conditions, as do other films of the decade like Blade Runner, The Terminator, and many others. The film is set in a decaying Detroit overrun by crime and corruption. Corporations seem to govern more than government itself, and one of them seeks to put an end to the crime using a robotic police force. Meanwhile the main protagonist, the idealistic Murphy—honest, courageous, and incorruptible—is captured by a gang after pursuing them to their hideout. They kill him brutally and for sport, all but blowing him to pieces, and thus he becomes the corporation’s test dummy for their “robocop” program. They put what is left of him into a machine and he is reborn as robocop, a powerful machine-human hybrid controlled by a set of directives the company established and with only wispy memories of his former life (we’ll come back to that idea in a minute.)

Not only does Murphy/RoboCop represent humanity as a whole striving to find its identity amidst  corporate America, he comes to represent a kind of Christ figure. His first injury in his execution is a lethal blast to his hand, and the film is full of other Messianic imagery. He literally dies and is resurrected as a more powerful being, with the intent being that he will save the dying city from its own corruption. At the tail-end of the Cold War, America was struggling with the nightmarish implications of issues that had never before existed—cloning, artificial intelligence, and the creation of ever-more deadly weapons. The film shows example after example of technology malfunctioning and escaping human control, from its opening scene when a malfunctioning robot brutally kills a man in an intended simulation of arrest, to RoboCop himself, who proves difficult for his creators to control.

Just as important as the threat of technology itself, RoboCop serves as a savior from loss of identity that results from it. As mentioned, when he is reborn, he retains only fragments of his memories. Much of the film’s action is driven by RoboCop’s desire to discover who he is—even to remember his own name. Technology is portrayed as the catalyst for the loss of this identity. He struggles to overcome the programming he has been subjected to and ultimately succeeds. The film shows a dark vision of the future but ultimately hope for humanity’s survival.

I first thought of RoboCop in the context of the decade in which it was made, but eventually I had to pause and ask myself if its message was any less relevant today. I think it is easier than ever now to lose yourself in the informational black hole that is technology. Viewed less as a physical threat and more as a social and personal one, the film’s message resonated with me.  Speaking from personal experience, I've lost count of how many times a quick email turns into an hour-long Facebook-browsing session, or looking up a homework assignment ends with me plunging into the unending depths Bob Dylan's discography. Even writing this essay is taking about 10x longer than it should because I keep getting lost in clips from this movie and others whenever I pause to do a simple fact-check. Technology is meant to protect us, to inform us, and to make our lives more convenient. But it can quickly overpass its purpose and become an end in itself if we are not careful. I admit that comparing a cyborg gladiator movie to our day's internet craze is something of a stretch, and not the direct intent of the filmmakers, but as I watched, it was hard for me not to draw the comparison. While it might seem like something of an alarmist attitude, the film's message is not that technology is inherently bad, just that it needs to be held in check.

I drew comparisons with a more modern source when I saw Spike Lee’s Her this last weekend. It deals with some overlapping issues like technology’s influence socially and personally, and the nature of humanity and our relationships, but approaches and develops them in very different ways. Among other things, Her takes a look at relationships and asks us to question what it is that makes us human in the first place. A typical modern American is not concerned with nuclear war or machines taking over society (whether such threats have been reduced or not). But they are concerned with maintaining individuality and preserving real relationships in the modern world. I think the drastic changes in the two films' tones reflect a shift in ideology when it comes to technology over the last few decades. RoboCop argues that our humanity is threatened by technology, consumerism, and the media. The film proposes, sometimes ironically, that more technology won’t save us. That our salvation is rediscovering our own humanity—and embracing what it is that makes us human.