It represented the end of the ‘60s, a sour send off to the whole ‘peace and love’ vibe consuming the country.  The Tate-LaBianca Murders in Southern California spawned hysteria in the region, the famous and the not so known cowering over who would be next in the sights of these the unknown spree killers. When it was finally discovered that a failed musician and his hippie commune “family” were behind the crimes, the press and pundits had a field day. They blamed everything on the leader, a diminutive demon called Charles Manson, (no matter who actually essayed the slaughter) and thus a legend was born.

We know we are in trouble from the opening beats. Our lead, a lunkheaded personal trainer named Daniel Lugo (Mark Wahlberg) is being chased by the cops, apparently for doing something horrendous. As he runs in slow motion, the camera occasionally ‘becoming’ part of his streak to freedom, an internal monologue begins explaining things. At a certain point, the voice over narrative switches perspective and Daniel riffs on the most influential people in his life - and they are all fictional characters. Tony Montana. Rocky Balboa. Some infomercial guy. No real life human heroes, just similarly stunted guys he’s idolized since he saw them on the silver (or TV) screen.

Like a lightning bolt striking an aging edifice, Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs hit Hollywood…hard! It signaled the arrival of a new voice in cinema, one that would cement its import in 1994 with the arrival of the international smash Pulp Fiction. Since then, Tarantino has become a solid cinephile talking point, a love-him-or-hate-him example of originality or outright stealing, depending on your particular penchant. Most of this comes with success. You can’t have a resume that includes two Oscars, legions of rabid fans, and films like Jackie Brown, Kill Bill, Inglourious Basterds, and Django Unchained and not experience a bit of the old jealous blowback.

For a long time, those in the know only referenced Sir Run Run and Runme Shaw as the kingpins of Hong Kong and Taiwanese filmmaking. No matter the poorly dubbed and obscenely edited examples of the brothers’ work, Shaw studios became the bellwether for an entire home video revolution. Think about it. Before the advent of the VCR and specialist distribution companies, the works of artists like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, and Gordon Liu were left to dingy drive-ins and The Late Late Show, if they were shown at all. With cable and the sell through title came a market desperate for product and companies willing to release anything to make a profit. Thus, the martial arts movie came into its own. Today, it’s considered the standard bearer for action, adventure, period piece polish, and good old fashioned ass-kicking.

It seems so silly. It’s the lowest form of criticism… and yet, all throughout the 19 April 2013 weekend, critics have been having a field day with Tom Cruise’s latest sci-fi epic, the oddly named Oblivion (was that title ever explained in the film or did it just sound really cool?). While it easily claimed the weekend box office ($38 million, and counting, on top of the near $112 million it’s already earned overseas), it’s also earned some scathing notices, most pointing out how heavily the movie lifts from previous cinematic staples. Everything from Planet of the Apes (?) to The Matrix has been name checked, with every other bit of celluloid speculative fiction thrown into the mix to maximize the message. Indeed, the consensus appears to be that Oblivion may be great to look at, but it’s also clearly unoriginal and derivative.