Elysium

Neil Blomkamp’s Elysium, like his debut District 9, concerns the same disparity between haves and have-nots that fuels so much of our ongoing sociopolitical discussion. But giving him the advantage, Blomkamp’s debates have spaceships and giant mechanical suits—two things the Occupy Wall Street movement was sorely lacking. And because of those shortcomings, it turns out that, by the year of 2154, the separation between poor and wealthy has become light years in distance: The rich, like Jodie Foster, live on the permanent resort planet Elysium, relaxing on their verdant estates with their sensible Suze Orman haircuts, safe from all poverty, disease, and bad investments. Meanwhile, people like Matt Damon toil back on Earth, waiting for cancer or a poorly maintained building to crush them. That is, until the day Damon decides he’s going to put on his finest robot suit and crash the Elysium party and, if he’s anything like his angry 99-percenter ancestors, probably chant stuff at them. 

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