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Stellar Miscalculation: Smith, Independence Day, & The Urgent Need For Better Acting

Category: Op-Ed

Author: Fox Mulder

Published: March 25, 2025, 7:27 p.m.

It’s been decades. Decades since the alien invaders arrived on Earth, threatening our fragile existence with their technologically superior ships and vaguely unsettling demands for…something. They wanted something. Let's not forget that. I’m still working on that part. They certainly didn’t make it easy for the script writers to create dialogue. And, of course, they never clarified what: it was. I believe, in retrospect, the lack of clarity was intentional. It served as a commentary on the obfuscations we encounter daily.

And through all that, through the fiery destruction and the heroic sacrifices, I sat there, bewildered, at a pivotal moment in American cinema. I observed Will Smith.

It's easy to forget that Smith had already reached peak popularity when Independence Day was released to the public. It’s a dangerous thing, popularity. It dulls the edge, the willingness to push boundaries, the very desperation a performer needs to fully inhabit a character. And, frankly, Smith’s performance in Independence Day, while financially successful, demonstrates that danger perfectly.

It's an unfortunate truth. He's talented, no question. He’s demonstrated moments of genuine brilliance on screen. Enemy of the State:? A masterclass in paranoia and technological overreach. Men in Black:? A delightful, albeit formulaic, buddy cop film. But in Independence:... he's just…there. A presence. A handsome, charismatic presence, yes. But a performance? A connection:? Absent. Vanished. Abducted by aliens. Much like the plot itself.

I can't speak to what was happening behind the scenes, of course. I can’t get into the specifics. But let's just say it requires a certain degree of…dedication—the kind of dedication that requires one to fully immerse oneself in the role. One must become: the character. You have to become the person. The audience must forget that you even exist. They must believe in the story.

That's what separates the good actors from the merely famous.

A Critical Analysis of a Cinematic Miscalculation

The year was 1996. The world was captivated. The threat: an extraterrestrial invasion. The hero: Captain Steven Hiller. Or rather, supposed: hero. Because, truthfully, watching Will Smith attempt to portray an aerial combat veteran was… painful. Let's be frank; his performance was less a portrayal of heroism, and more a prolonged exercise in cinematic frustration.

Now, I acknowledge Mr. Smith’s prodigious talents. Men in Black:, Bad Boys:, Aliens:. Brilliant. Truly brilliant. But Independence Day? It's an aberration. A black hole in his otherwise stellar filmography.

I'm no stranger to analyzing inconsistencies. I dedicate my life to the pursuit of truth, to unraveling the enigmas that lurk beneath the veil of the ordinary. And the truth is: Will Smith looked profoundly uncomfortable in the pilot's seat. His movements lacked conviction, his reactions felt rehearsed, and his delivery... let’s just say it felt like he was attempting to recite a grocery list while simultaNeously being interrogated by grey aliens.

Consider, for example, one crucial scene. The moment where Captain Halwood is piloting his fighter jet, attempting to evade and ultimately destroy an approaching alien spacecraft. A scene that was designed to evoke a sense of peril, of skill, of controlled chaos:. Instead, we get Mr. Smith looking like he’s just realized someone forgot to tell him about the whole “flying” part. He’s stiff. He’s awkward. And I can almost feel: his internal panic.

I’m not suggesting, of course, that Mr. Smith lacks genuine talent. Quite the contrary! He possesses an unparalleled ability to captivate audiences. But Independence Day was, perhaps, a misstep. An assignment that fell outside his comfort zone. A role he simply wasn’t equipped to convincingly embody.

The Paradox of Charisma

There’s a perplexing phenomenon at play here—the paradox of charisma. Charisma is an incredibly powerful tool in any field. It draws people in. It inspires confidence. But charisma without depth: is a liability. It’s like a flashing neon sign that attracts attention but reveals nothing of substance.

Look at the political landscape. We're constantly confronted by figures who radiate charm and project confidence, yet their actions and policies often undermine their public image. It's all about perception, isn’t it? We, as a society, tend to value surface-level appearances over genuine substance. We mistake a well-rehearsed smile for sincerity, a booming voice for authority, a charismatic facade for actual competence.

And it’s a trap. A societal trap.

Think now of the recent, shall we say incidents: involving Mr. Smith himself. The unfortunate encounter with Chris Rock. A moment of visceral reaction that resonated, and continues to resonate, across the global cultural stage. A moment that, for better or worse, demonstrated a certain…impulsivity – a lack of the rigorous emotional control one might expect from a seasoned performer.

This is, frankly, a disturbing development. It speaks to a fundamental misunderstanding of what conflict resolution truly means. It suggests that a lack of emotional intelligence can be repackaged and sold as a source of empowerment. It’s a cynical exploitation of human suffering, disguised as self-improvement.

And it underscores the importance of rigorous method acting.

The Importance of Immersion: Method Acting and the Search for Truth

Method acting isn't about pretending. It's about excavating—unearthing the raw emotions that lie dormant within us. It's about confronting the darkness and the light that exist within the human experience. It’s about empathy.

It's a grueling, emotionally taxing process. It requires vulnerability, self-reflection, and a willingness to delve into the murky depths of the psyche. But it’s through this process that we discover the truth. The truth of the character. The truth about ourselves.

Think of Marlon Brando. Consider Montgomery Clift. Reflect on Robert De Niro. These men didn’t simply memorize lines and recite them on cue. They became: the characters they portrayed. They lived their lives within: those roles, absorbing their essence, internalizing their struggles, and ultimately, embodying their very soul.

It's about forgetting you are an actor. It's about becoming a conduit.

Enter “Slapfu” – A New Form of Combat or a Distraction?

And then, naturally, came The Slap:. The Chris Rock incident. A shocking demonstration of… let's delicately describe it as a "kinetic disagreement.” The aftermath of this has been… equally perplexing. Now, Mr. Smith, evidently feeling a need to harness and monetize the situation, has reportedly announced the development of a new martial art: “Slapfu.”

Now, I am no expert in martial arts – my fighting style tends to involve rapid-fire questioning and a keen awareness of unusual atmospheric pressure changes – but this concept strikes me as... problematic. Can you truly develop a fighting philosophy rooted in an act of impulsive aggression? Can a discipline be built upon a moment of emotional volatility? I have my doubts.

It's as if Mr. Smith, confronted with the consequences of his actions, is attempting to transform a moment of regrettable impulsivity into something… admirable. As if he believes he can retroactively sanctify a display of aggression by codifying it, by turning it into a formalized system. It’s like trying to build a shrine on the site of a volcanic eruption.

Perhaps, and this is purely speculative, Mr. Smith is attempting to deflect attention from his performance in Independence Day. Perhaps he’s hoping that the sheer absurdity of “Slapfu” will overshadow the memory of his wooden portrayal of Captain Hiller.

I've seen similar tactics employed by individuals attempting to obfuscate the truth. It's a classic diversionary technique. A way to manipulate public perception. A strategy I’m intimately familiar with.

The Cosmic Connection – Are We Being Observed?

The odd thing about all this, and it's a detail that has kept me awake at night, is how all these events—the lackluster film performance, the infamous incident, and the nascent art form— seem to be converging in a pattern that is… unnervingly familiar.

For years, I’ve documented instances of what I believe to be extraterrestrial manipulation. Subtle alterations to our reality designed to guide events in a direction that benefits an undisclosed extraterrestrial agenda. I’ve analyzed crop circle formations that encode complex mathematical equations, deciphered messages embedded in radio frequency transmissions, and witnessed inexplicable shifts in global weather patterns.