District 9 is emblematic of an awkward era in cinema history. At this particular moment, studio executives are beating their heads against their cherrywood desks and asking themselves why this, a film with good special effects, good acting, and a political bent, will make more money than Will Ferrell's face, or an expensive explodo-suit, or a friendly rock that teaches kids to love. District 9 is an arthouse film infused with cash, a hybrid, much like (spoilers ahead), its protagonist. The documentary style of the opening sequence is some of the best cinema I've ever seen: suspenseful, real, political, visceral. We learn about the world through details and trinkets - the aliens love catfood, they need to be served eviction notices. District 9, unlike most films today, fails to explain itself, and this is part of what makes it so satisfying - there is no long-winded science talk, no maniacal speech or "lesson." This is a film that gives its audience some credit, and in return we ignore or accept the odd, or even contrived plot developments (You need DNA fuel? But only a little of it? But not for guns? But I nitpick).

Sadly, there is also no "lesson" because District 9 is a melodrama, not an allegory. What begins as a wrenching comment on the folly of man devolves into a (well-made) action movie, with character arcs and justice for all. In a way, the last half-hour is heartbreakingly Hollywood: the bad guys get their comeuppances, the good guys learn valuable lessons about love. Etc. That sequel plug in the last ten minutes! Shame...

To conclude, I'm glad D9 put its money into the right CGI, told the right story, told it well, and didn't add any frills. Those are signs of damn-good directing. But, damn it all, it could have been Dr. Strangelove too.