In 2008′s Wall-E, Waste Allocation Load Lifter (Earth Class) operates in solitude on a post-apocalyptic Earth. Humans, with the aid of the waste-producing Buy ‘n Large corporation, have destroyed the planet’s soil, air, and vegetation. While they wait in a fully-automated space station for Wall-E and his kind to clean up the planet, generations are born and live out their lives. Seven hundred years later, humans have suffered severe bone loss from a lifetime ingesting liquid food and living in microgravity, are wholly dependent upon technology, and too obese to walk unassisted. When EVE (Extraterrestrial Vegetative Evaluator) is sent to Earth, she discovers a seedling sprouting on the planet’s surface. Her directive is to return to the space station and bring news of the planet’s recovery to the humans, who will then return to live on Earth.

This film, doubtless seen by more children by adults, is one of many films featuring important planning issues. Through dialogue, setting, plot and character development, Hollywood films often comment on issues such as environmental degradation, urban form, and transportation. Along with TV, the internet and video games, film plays an integral role in shaping our attitudes and perceptions. For example, is owning a car a symbol of success? Is living in suburbia stifling? What will the future be like?

One of the most common examples is Hollywood’s depiction of typical urban lifestyles. Who could forget Woody Allen’s famous line in Annie Hall (1977) upon arriving in Los Angeles: “What, you mean we’re actually going to walk? My feet haven’t hit the pavement since I got off the plane!” Earlier in the movie, Allen’s character Alvie Singer, a lifetime New Yorker, is shown walking from Manhattan restaurant to analyst’s office, and everywhere in between. When his friend constantly brings up the idea of moving to L.A., Alvie’s response is, “I don’t want to live in a city where the only advantage is you can take a right turn on a red light.” Walking is a theme that runs throughout movies set in New York City. Although When Harry Met Sally (1989) begins when the two main characters drive from Chicago to New York together, they are quickly absorbed into Manhattan’s pedestrian lifestyle. The two spend the rest of the movie meeting, and walking to, landmark restaurants (Katz’s Delicatessen, Cafe Luxembourg), stores (Shakespeare & Co, The Sharper Image), the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Washington Square Park.

Urban settings often occupy crucial backgrounds in Hollywood films, commenting on social and environmental planning (or lack thereof). Witness the plethora of urban dystopia films (Metropolis (1927), Soylent Green (1973) Blade Runner (1982), Children of Men (2006), The Dark Knight (2008) to name a few) where the future is bleak, dark, gritty, and urban. These films exaggerate the unfriendliness of large urban centers and project forward to futures where “all is city”: nature, and the positive aspects of human nature, are nowhere to be seen. Wall-E echoes earlier films with an ecological theme such as Silent Running (1972) where a botanist works on a space freighter preserving the only botanical specimens left from earth, and Medicine Man (1992), where a doctor finds a cure for cancer in a particular species of spider, which is subsequently destroyed in slash-and-burn rainforest fashion.

If Earth is doomed to an environmentally degraded, nihilistic future, shouldn’t someone else be in charge? Fahrenheit 451 (1966), Rollerball (1975), THX 1138 (1971) and Total Recall (1981) and The Matrix (1999), examine a future where “society” is maintained through mind and social control. Militaristic states control citizens through their own endless rulebooks, and free will is not permitted; Neo’s attempts to control his own destiny within the Matrix meet with conflict after conflict. A twist on this is Demolition Man (1993), where a cop from the violent past must be awakened from a cryogenic state to catch a dangerous murderer. Police officers in a more peaceful future L.A., where people are fined for everything from swearing to parking infringements, are unable to stop the killer. In 2001: A Space Odyssey, AI (2001) and I, Robot (2004), technology dominates humans in the absence of their own good judgment; I, Robot’s V.I.K.I. uses her army of robots to place humans under virtual house arrest to prevent them from killing each other and destroying the planet. In 2001, extraterrestrial technology is responsible for the species’ development, including the development of language and weapons.

Suburban settings and their social effects have been examined in film almost since their very beginnings. Ira Levin’s 1972 classic novel The Stepford Wives (film adaptations 1975 and 2004) features all-too-perfect suburban housewives, who turn out to be robotic shells of their former selves. This year’s Revolutionary Road (2008), based on Richard Yates’ 1952 novel, offers another look at the stifling social atmosphere and constrained gender roles of suburbia. Some of the best explorations of the conformity and boredom of suburbia can be seen in a trio of films in the late 90s. Who could forget Reese Witherspoon’s question, “What’s outside of Pleasantville?” and the blank stares it engendered? As the two 90s-era teens encourage 50s-era Pleasantville (1998) residents start to think outside the box, they begin to see life in colour. Truman begins to chafe against his too-perfect life (The Truman Show (1998), but is reassured by his 1950s product-placement-spouting wife and his mother, who tries to convince him he should have children. Finally, the masterpiece American Beauty (1999) shows depression, infidelity, bitterness and murder lurking underneath the typical suburban existence.

Transportation modes emerge as plot elements in many films, often placing the film in a particular city. Many action movies feature the characters hopping on trains, buses, and streetcars in pivotal chase scenes. The falsely-accused Dr. Richard Kimble escapes from a bus/train crash on his way to prison and embarks on a cat-and-mouse game that takes viewers through the underbelly of Chicago in The Fugitive (1993). Lieutenant Gerrard tracks him down at one point by differentiating the sound of the train in the background as a Chicago L; Kimble finally catches the one-armed man on the L train. Jason Bourne (Bourne Supremacy (2004)) spends the majority of the film trilogy chasing, or being chased by, CIA agents on subways, streetcars, and high-speed trains throughout Europe. Speed (1994) features a policeman trying to stop a bus that has been armed with a bomb that will explode if the speed drops below 50mph. In 1951′s A Streetcar Named Desire, the name of the New Orleans route acted as a narrative device symbolizing Blanche Dubois’ drive and downfall, as well as a deep longing for the Old South. The entire biography of Forrest Gump (1994) is told as Forrest sits and chats with a variety of people while waiting at a bus stop. The narrative arc is framed by young Forrest introducing himself to the school bus driver, and his son repeating the scene at the end of the film.

Cars are often used in character development, becoming linked to personality traits. The classic Bullitt (1968) features the first car chase scene in a movie, giving audiences a fantastic look at urban San Francisco. The film was also seminal for its linking of cool cops and sports cars, a device that was used in many later movies as well as the TV series Starsky and Hutch and Miami Vice. The James Bond series is notable for its use of luxury sports cars (Lotus, Alpha Romeo) to embody the spy’s dangerous, high-end lifestyle. Beverly Hills Cop (1984) poked fun of this image, featuring Axel Foley, a down-at-the-heels Detroit cop who was known for his “crappy blue Chevy Nova.” On the non-motorized end of the spectrum, Steve Carrell’s 40 Year Old Virgin (2005) was partly defined by his daily bike ride to work. His lack of a driver’s license, along with his virginity and obsession with comic book collectibles, was used to demonstrate his immaturity; the end of the movie shows him learning how to drive, preparing to get married and selling off the action figures. Low-income teen Andie (Pretty in Pink (1986) was defined by her second-hand clothes, unemployed father and absentee mother, but she could still afford to drive her own car to school. The message is clear: if you drive a car you’re a successful adult, and the better the car the better your life!

Like other media that constantly surrounds us and provides us with subliminal (or in some cases, overt) messages, films give us opportunities to discuss and examine our values around the environment, urban form, lifestyle, and their social effects. Films help bring planning issues, such as how to plan more sustainable cities, into everyday conversation. As planners we need to be in touch with film as a media that influences attitudes and perceptions.

In my visits to other cities, I’ve noticed how much the weather can affect my experience of the place. Whether it was the floods in Venice, the heavy constant cloud over London, or the oppressive humidity of Toronto, my enjoyment of the city is directly related to my ability to get out and comfortably walk around. Naturally it’s easier to wander or meet up with friends if the weather is nice.  And there are also the everyday realities of taking the bus in bad weather (it’s more crowded, and the windows invariably fog up, something that doesn’t seem to happen on streetcars or subways).

Waking up to the eighth day of fog in a row this morning assured me that fog also affects our perceptions of the city.  I was struck by how isolated UBC campus looks with the heavy fog.  Some of my photos could easily have been taken in the countryside…which is actually fitting, as UBC is rather isolated from the rest of Vancouver.  At the same time, the fog actually made the campus look more picturesque than usual because it smoothed out a lot of the torn up streets, potholed sidewalks and modernist architecture that seems to characterize the place.

While the campus is located on a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water, it takes some effort to actually see the ocean.  It is only visible from the end of Main Mall, and otherwise accessible from several steep paths along the beach (around 250 steps down).  The fog is a visual and sensory reminder that we are actually right on the ocean, and the foghorn that sounds regularly adds to this effect. 

It is surprising how little we consider the weather when we plan our cities, particularly in Canada.  What with the snow in Edmonton, Calgary, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, and Halifax you’d think we’d have nice wide boulevards for snow storage, but we don’t.  Not to mention the lack of nice broad overhangs for the Vancouver rain (which Seattle, just across the border, seems to have figured out).  Luckily, most of our cities have excellent tree cover for the hot summers. I’ve read one book on designing for winter cities (Norman Pressman), but it doesn’t seem that his ideas have filtered down into better building and infrastructure design to help us accommodate our weather.  While some aspects of weather (such as fog) are unpredictable, the seasons are not. One notable anomaly is York University campus in Toronto, where there is a real acknowledgement of the very snowy conditions there (a couple of feet while I was there).  The central boulevard where buses come in from Downsview subway station is framed by buildings with internal walkways.  The walkways included indoor bus waiting areas (similar to those at Eglington subway station) allowing students to move around the main area of the campus and still be protected from snow and cold temperatures.  I’m sure there are lots of designers out there who don’t like this idea (I seem to remember proposing a covered walkway way back in my studio days and being shot down), but I thought it worked really well.

We need more than the winter festivals in Ottawa and Quebec City, or the Cherry Blossom Festival in Vancouver.  Like multicultural festivals, these are merely token celebrations that do little to integrate different elements into our cities’ social and physical structures.  Buildings and infrastructure designed to protect us from the elements might even have the pleasant side effect of making us appreciate our seasons. Occasionally, weather has become a defining feature of a city; those of us who live in Vancouver are familiar with the obsession about rain, since it seems to rain every time our friends and family come to visit!  If we had more covered walkways, broad overhangs and stores selling rubber boots, maybe it wouldn’t be so noticeable.  Of course, Vancouverites would never buy those boots; they prefer thin canvas shoes that let the water right in!

Today CBC had an article about how celebrity expressions make it into everyday language, like Cash Money Millionaires’ ‘bling’, Mary J. Blige’s ‘hateration’.  Obviously TV shows provide plenty of fodder for this too like Friends’ ‘How you doin’?’ and all the Seinfeldisms.  But what’s funny is this article is all about bashing popular culture, forgetting that all our expressions seem to come from other people.

In recent months we’ve heard a lot about ‘predatory lending practices’, ‘bailouts’ and ‘subprime lending’, three phrases that I guarantee didn’t cross the bankers’ tidy linguistic fences until the economy went to hell.  Now that there’s word that the recession might spread to Canada, we hear all about how we can afford to run a deficit this year because for many years we’ve been ‘paying down the debt’…and with Nortel cutting back, there’s talk of 90′s era ‘downsizing’.  And all of a sudden the people who used to preach about how housing was ‘a good investment’ and ‘forced savings’ are strangely mute.

Architects have discussed ‘materiality’, ‘conceptualizations of space’ and ‘radicalization of form’ for years, but lately the terms ‘road diet’, ‘granny flat’ and ‘snout house’ have crept into articles written by engineers and planners.

Speaking of planning, when’s the last time you had to ‘manage expectations’ at your job?  Municipal politicians are all about ‘curbing sprawl’, providing ‘dense, multi-use neighbourhoods’ with a variety of ‘non-motorized transportation alternatives’, while ‘lifestyle centers’ have popped up in exurbia.  When we’re doing ‘stakeholder engagement’, neighbourhood residents are well-versed on ‘NIMBY’ and ‘participatory planning’, since they’re interested in ‘protecting homeowner values’.  Last year I was at a public lecture on transportation and the speaker noted how his newsletter had ‘gone viral’.

It’s not like we’re glued to our TV sets and YouTube all day…some of these expressions still catch on from good old-fashioned conversation!

We’ve recently been advised that our comp papers can be any length whatsoever, with some people having produced a 10,000 word paper and others up to 35,000. Like everything else in PhDLand, “it depends”, and I can’t tell you how annoying it is to have absolutely no guidance whatsoever. I’ve mentioned in here briefly that at our school the comp exam is an oral exam with the student and their committee, based on this paper that is written beforehand. Just out of curiosity, I decided to check a few other schools and see what their comps were like.

One-part exams

University of Maryland has a formal structure: with four faculty members: the student’s advisor, two faculty familiar with the student’s work, and the theory professor. It’s a three-day take-home exam. The content is based on an agreed-upon reading list. Each committee member writes one question; in total there are two questions from the major field of study, one from the minor field of study, and one theory question. The student becomes a candidate after passing the exam.

University of Waterloo has the same structure as our school (go figure): one exam with three parts, including theory, methods and research question, normally taken at the beginning of the second year.

Two-part exams

UC Irvine has a two-part exam: field or area, and methods. Comps are offered at the end of the summer and usually at the end of the second year, so it’s an actual exam.

University of Michigan has a take-home written exam over several days and an oral exam normally occurring in the third year, based on an agreed-upon reading list.

UCLA is similar, with the major field exam (6 hrs) taken 6 months after the Advisory Committee Meeting (usually by the end of the first year) and the major field oral exam (2 hrs) taken within ten days of the written exam. Candidacy is not reached until after the successful proposal defense (called the oral qualifying exam)

Three-part exams

NYU Wagner has the traditional three fields exam: research methods and two fields of interest. All three exams must be completed within three semesters of the first one. Research methods is a take-home, the other two are five-hour written exams scheduled twice a year by the school.

University of North Carolina has a set of written exams including research methods, theory, and the area of specialization. There is also an oral exam, which sounds more like our prospectus defense.

By the way some schools have comps for their Masters Degrees, including the University of Toledo and University of Kansas which they offer instead of the thesis option! Honestly, although some people complain about the ridiculousness of an exam at the doctoral level, at least there is a level playing field in terms of what PhDs are expected to know when they graduate. I mean, I don’t crave the three full days of exams that our geography department has…but loosey goosey is no good either.

Old-style glitzOld-style glitz

I’ve just found out that the session I organized for the AAG in March is a go! So I will be presenting my comprehensive paper with three other PhD students, all of whose work deals with structural change in global cities. Exciting stuff! Tom Hutton is the Chair and should prove interesting.

OK maybe I’m more excited about seeing the glitz and horror that is Vegas: New York New York, Paris, the Luxor, the Bellagio…