LITTLE TO SALVAGE
While watching Terminator Salvation, the fourth installment of the venerable Sci-fi franchise, I couldn’t help but think about that little four minute tirade from star Christian Bale on set that was sent out virally (the irony that a computer network was able to spread the audio is for another time) for everyone to enjoy. Partly because Bale spends the entire film equally as angry as he was in that bit of audio, and partly because I feel he may have been frustrated with the film itself. I know I was.
T4, as I will call it for the sake of typing, is not light on the action to be certain. It is a slam-bang, fiery, loud, eventually obnoxious science fiction war film that pummels the audience into pyrotechnic euphoria, but leaves them ultimately dissatisfied by the end. This is not necessarily the fault of director McG, who really should drop the silly name. It is more the fault of the seemingly dozens of hands who took part in the story.
After a ton of rewrites, some at the request of Bale himself, and even after master craftsman Jonathan Nolan put his magic fingers on the plot, it seems almost unfathomable that this script was the end result. The look and the mood of the film are both top notch. Filmed in a stark, washed-out palette, a perfect set for post-apocalyptic fun, the film stars of course Bale as John Connor, the self-proclaimed leader of the human resistance. Connor leads a ragtag army into battle against Skynet, the self-aware computer system that has all but wiped out humanity. When we are dropped into 2018, Skynet is hunting those humans that are left scattered across California, snatching them up and herding them into concentration-camp like pens where they await a fate that is never fully explained one way or another.
Connor is on a quest to hunt down Kyle Reese. Those of us well versed in Terminator lore will remember that Reese is, in fact, Connor’s father, played by Michael Biehn in the first film. Meanwhile, the audience is introduced to Marcus Wright, played by Hollywood newcomer Sam Worthington. Wright, who is supposedly executed in a prologue set in 2003, surfaces in 2018 covered in mud and of course, quite bewildered. It isn’t long before he runs into Skynet’s T-600, the crude, clunky first edition of Terminators, as well as a few stray members of the resistance, one of them being… wait for it… Kyle Reese. Reese is a teenager here, played by Anton Yelchin (also in the far superior Star Trek) but he is nonetheless going to grow to be Connor’s father, even though Connor is in his thirties, because Connor sends him back in time to sleep with his mom and… Yeah, don’t think to hard on the space-time continuum here or you will get a migraine. Leave that migraine for the action.
Without getting into too much more of the plot, I will say that Wright is not as he seems, and there is a lot of fire and bullets and noise and other stuff throughout the film. The action is solid at the beginning, quite thrilling at times, especially in the sun-drenched desert early on in the film. Once the story drifts into night, the action seems to lose its excitement and simply becomes loud.
Bale is single-minded here, and rather humorless. He is doing his Batman voice throughout, which seems weird even though it may very well be the way his voice sounds. I expected more depth from an actor as fascinating as he can be. And much has been made of Worthington’s performance, though I don’t quite see what the big deal is. Worthington is ok, just like the rest of the picture. Yelchin actually does the most with his limited screen time. The rest of the supporting cast includes Michael Ironside as the grizzly General Ashdown, and Moon Bloodgood plays the clichéd hot chick who is also a badass dropped down in the story to help Marcus find the resistance. And I am sorry, but the Bryce Dallas Howard-as-actress experiment needs to end. Howard replaces Claire Danes from T3 as Connor’s wife, Katherine, and she is quite the spare.
The problem with continuing the Terminator franchise, I found out halfway through the film, is that everything was taken care of in the first two films, leaving the last two to grasp at straws and try and keep the story going, despite the lack of a compelling plot. The dialogue in the film is absurd, and it took me out of the film repeatedly. McG has matured with this film after directing the two Charlie’s Angels music videos and the debacle that was We Are Marshall, but he still hasn’t managed to create a compelling picture. This film looks great, but has no heart, perhaps due to the fact that the antagonist is not Arnold or the slim and threatening Robert Patrick, but a bunch of clunky machines. The end result is a clunky machine of a film, and something that I hope will not create a new trilogy, as was the plan.
C
‘STAR’ Quality
I would consider myself, at best, a casual Star Trek fan. I know the characters, what they say, where they are from, what they are known for. I have seen all of the films starring the original cast, though I never was truly engaged. They never seemed to have an edge, and they always promised more action than they delivered. Well thank you, J.J. Abrams, for creating a Star Trek film in which I can embellish all of the traits of these legendary characters while enjoying one the most thrilling, complete, utterly fantastic films that will come out this entire year.
Abrams has dusted off a withering franchise and a fading group of fresh followers with this reboot, a pitch-perfect action sci-fi that stops down just long enough from time to time to develop these characters with which the audience is familiar. The picture begins with a bang in the form of a high-intensity galactic battle and never lets up. This, coupled with a spot-on casting of fresh faces, makes this Star Trek a film that any action junkie, or sci-fi fanatic, will not want to miss.
Star Trek is a genesis story, a telling of how the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise came to be, and the entire crew is present and accounted for. There is Mr. Sulu, this time played with an edge (as are most of the characters) by Harold and Kumar star John Cho. There is the intergalactic linguist, Nyota Uhura, played this time around by Zoe Saldana with that same attitude and sex appeal that Nichelle Nichols gave the character in the original films and television series. Young Anton Yelchin plays Chekov with the same boyish innocence as Walter Koenig. Scotty, this time around in a limited role, is played with mild comic relief by a serviceable Simon Pegg. Then of course, there is Leonard “Bones” McCoy, the incurably pessimistic doctor, played by Karl Urban. Urban serves DeForest Kelley’s character well. But the main draw, as it should be, are the two leads: Kirk and Spock.
Given the most difficult task of recreating two of the most iconic film characters, Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto play Kirk and Spock, respectively, and the two men excel in every way imaginable by staying true to the traits of the original characters while giving each a little bit more. The job they both do is enough to create an entire new Trekkie generation.
James Tiberius Kirk is a rough and tumble young man, a smartass kid with a rock and roll soundtrack who would rather spend his time chasing women and picking bar fights than do anything productive with his life. The first time we see him, as a ten-year old, it’s in a pace-setting chase sequence between a policeman and Kirk behind the wheel of a 300 year old Corvette to the backdrop of Beastie Boys. One of the best scenes in the entire film.
Spock, on the other hand, is a half Vulcan half human, a thinking man at odds with his Vulcan ancestors because of his human mother. Quinto has the most difficult task here, as he is the only crewmember who really has to emulate the look of the original Spock, which could have turned into a minefield of spoofing and impersonation. Thankfully, Quinto is up for the task, and rather than recreate Spock, he embodies the character and gives him his own history and his own unique psychological makeup.
Kirk is employed, after a bar fight nonetheless, by Captain Pike (Bruce Greenwood) to join the Starfleet Academy. Pike knew Kirk’s father, who became the captain of his own ship for a mere twelve minutes, when he saved 800 lives, and he sees that same heroic streak in young James. After some deliberation, Kirk decides to join, where piece-by-piece, he meets the crew that will eventually form the Enterprise.
Kirk and Spock have definite growing pains in the beginning, which is perfectly understandable given their two vastly different personalities. But they are forced to come together in the face of evil; this time portrayed by Nero, a Romulan villain played by a grumbling, grimacing Eric Bana. Bana does well with the material he is given, but as is typically the case with genesis stories of this stature, the villain is often an afterthought to the rest of the story (see: Batman Begins, Spiderman). Nevertheless, Bana creates a character menacing enough so that the audience can feel that the heroes are threatened.
Nero is traveling the galaxy with a vengeance, namely against Spock via a time travel plotline that I won’t go into further, and he is turning all of the planets of the Federation into black holes. Science gurus might be driven crazy by the whole physics of the idea, but then again, if you go to a Star Trek film expecting a science lesson, that’s your own fault. The screenplay, written by Robert Orci and Alex Kurtzman, does a magnificent job and being complex without ever becoming totally confusing.
This is the Star Trek film I always expected from the original movies, one with exposition and action, a perfect blend of character development and all-out thrills. The galactic battles are perfect in size and scope and somehow manage to never become impersonal. The only snag I found was in the curious and completely distracting casting of Winona Ryder as Spock’s mother. Since we never see Ryder without aging makeup on, I wondered why Abrams simply didn’t cast an older actor in the role. But I am nitpicking.
It isn’t even halfway through May, but I am almost certain this is the summer movie of the year. I don’t want to anoint J.J. Abrams the next Spielberg just yet (let’s wait for a few more original films first), but I can tell you that he has built up enough street cred with the devoted film-going masses out there that whatever he wants to do in the future, consider me on board.
Of course, Michael Mann’s Public Enemies is still waiting in July, but as far as action spectacles are concerned, every big summer movie from this point out will be fighting for second place.
A
BURNING DOWN
Burn After Reading: John Malkovich, Frances McDormand, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton. 97 min.
Roughly a year after winning two Oscars for their searing Texas Noir No Country for Old Men, the Coens return to their self-imagined land of zany and hopeless farce with the screwball spy caper, Burn After Reading. Wanting to join the annals of classic Coen comedies a la Raising Arizona and The Big Lebowski, the film, about a couple of hammerheads who stumble across what they think are big time government secrets, tends to fall under the category of their less successful comedies, a la The Ladykillers and Intolerable Cruelty. The plot devices are all their, the actors are all in place, but amazingly enough, the acting and the characters are not up to par.
Malkovich plays Osbourne Cox, a misanthropic CIA operative who is let go in the films opening credits, due to a number of personality problems, and also due to the fact that he is an alcoholic in denial. Cox is one of the more interesting characters as the film begins, but that soon deteriorates as the story unfolds.
Dejected and married into a loveless marriage with Katie, the cold Tilda Swinton, Cox decides to write, as he calls them, his memoirs. This is basically an excuse for drinking and lying about the house all day. Again, another funny idea that disintegrates rather quickly. Meanwhile, Katie is sleeping with married Harry Pfarrer (Clooney) a womanizing lowlife Marshal with a gold chain and a beard and an addiction to jogging. Harry, so insecure in himself and paranoid that he is being followed, also has an interesting hobby that reveals itself in his basement. This is a comedy point that doesn’t quite pay off.
Enter now Linda Litzke, the peppy, self-conscious gym instructor trying to get a slew of cosmetic surgeries (Frances McDormand), and her partner in crime, fellow gym trainer Chad Feldheimer (the blonde-quaffed Brad Pitt). Both Linda and Chad are full of energy, full of zeal, and filled with shit for brains. Their hairstyles effectively display their energy and, simultaneously, their complete lack of self-awareness. After stumbling across what they assume is a super secret disc containing, as Chad puts it, “super secret spy shit,” they decide to use it as leverage against Osbourne who can see through their idiot plan, as can anyone else.
The basic plot is set into motion, and thanks to help from the typical supporting cast of idiots and quirky losers that one finds in a Coen Brothers comedy, including a turn from Richard Jenkins as Ted, the gym manager smitten with Linda though she is too stupid to notice, everything has the appearance of something enjoyable. Even when things get a little crazy, and there are definitely some wildly unexpected bursts of violence, there is still a feeling that you should be enjoying this film more than you are. The problem is, ninety percent of the lines delivered throughout the film, mainly because of the delivery itself, miss the mark. They just aren’t funny.
Certain aspects of the comedy portions of the film seem flat. Malkovich begins the film with promise, and seems to be a rather interesting, angry character with smart ass remarks and condescension leaking from his bowtie. However, as we become distracted with the less interesting characters, Malkovich disappears into the background and we only catch glimpses from him. And then, all we get are a couple of “what the fucks?” from his angry side. It’s amazing how quickly Osbourne vanishes into a one-dimensional supporting part.
The bulk of the comedy is left up to Clooney, McDormand, and Pitt. It is apparent, after close observation through this film, Intolerable Cruelty, and the Ocean films, that George Clooney does not do comedy. He is the consummate straight man in the Ocean films, and Intolerable Cruelty failed miserably mostly due to his cheesy performance. Something about Clooney doing screwball does not work. As Harry, he twitches, arches his eyebrows, taps his belly, and nervously rambles, but none of it works. I still see suave Clooney trying to disguise his good looks by acting stupid, so I just don’t buy him. Pitt, on the other hand, easily disappears into his ridiculous hairdo and his ridiculous character, dancing and snorting and acting completely idiotic. The only problem is, he may be acting too stupid, even for this movie, to really laugh at. He has a couple of chuckle moments, but nothing lasting. McDormand is simply passable in her role, as I don’t remember laughing at her idiot persona once.
For whatever reason, Burn After Reading never clicked for me. I never lost my breath laughing at these buffoons, perhaps because there is also a mean streak to the film. The Coens succeed in idea alone, not really in execution.
C-
RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE
Tropic Thunder: Ben Stiller, Jack Black, Robert Downey Jr.: 107 min.
Tropic Thunder, the ambitious new film from Ben Stiller, is a pitch perfect satire, but nothing more than an average comedy. The film is big, loud, and funny when it does what is intended to do. It is only when the genius farce of the film disappears does the story falter. Luckily, the satire is so brilliant that it tends to outweigh the lame segments of straight comedy.
In the same vein as Last Action Hero (a great film that should be revisited by many), Tropic Thunderis the movie within the movie, full of zany characters and spot on farce. Tugg Speedman (Stiller) is the action hero, a pompous performer who has been crucified for his latest attempt at drama, where he played a mentally retarded man in a movie called Simple Jack. Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) is the comedy man, who has a string of successful fart films and a raging drug problem. Robert Downey Jr., in the best role of the film, plays Kirk Lazarus, an Australian method actor who has five Academy Awards to his credit. Together, the trio is filming what is supposed to be the biggest, best war picture ever made. Along for the ride, in the platoon, is a young, eager performer named Kevin Sandusky (Knocked Up’s Jay Baruchel) and the rapper-turned-actor, the most perfectly named Alpa Chino (Brandon Jackson).
The director, Damian Cockburn (Steve Coogan) is trying to make the quintessential war picture, but he is having trouble wrangling so many big egos into the film. On set as well is the author of Tropic Thunder, Four Leaf Tayback, played well by Nick Nolte. Tayback, after a debacled action scene, suggests to Cockburn that they drop these pampered stars in the jungle and do a bit of Guerilla filmmaking to get the best of the actors. Cockburn follows suit, and once these actors are dropped in the jungle, they insist on filming this movie regardless of the fact that real bullets are being fired their way. Turns out, they are in the midst of a drug cartel’s area.
Once the actors are in the jungle, some believe they are still filming, namely Stiller’s Speedman, while others realize they are in serious trouble. The mood of Tropic Thunderis set from the beginning, as fake trailers for the three stars, as well as an advertisement for an energy drink endorsed by Alpa Chino, are laid out to give these characters the adequate background. So we know as an audience what to expect from these actors. Tropic Thunderis great at satirizing the film industry in general, with Matthew McConaughey as douchebag agent and Tom Cruise in a scene-stealing performance as a vulgar studio head, but it fails in delivering the typical comedic lines. It is funny when it is discussing the need for actors to have assistants and hotel rooms, but it fails when it is truly in the moment, and the comedy relies on the events at hand.
Everyone in the film is as dedicated to their roles as the pretend actors are dedicated to their roles. It is much more confusing to explain than to watch. Stiller is funny, Black is underused, leaving it to Downey to keep the irony going. And he does. As a dedicated method actor who dyes his skin to become the African-American soldier in the film, Downey enhances the ironic twist in the film. As things become serious, Downey’s Lazarus stays in character, despite questions from the people around him. Downey’s performance is the penultimate comedic performance that deserves at least an Oscar nomination. If Maria Tomei can do it, Downey can.
While Tropic Thunder makes fun of the film industry in general, as a straight comedy it fails. Nevertheless, what Tropic Thunder is meant to do is indict the smarmy, pretentious acting fraternity, and with that it succeeds.
B
BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY
Vicky Cristina Barcelona: Javier Bardem, Scarlett Johannson, Penelope Cruz, Rebecca Hall – 85 min.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona is, if anything, evidence that Woody Allen can still develop and tell a charming story. It seems that leaving the confines of his native New York has revived Allen and allowed him to tell stories rather than plod along in a Manhattan rut of cliché and repetition. The result has made a quaint, enjoyable little movie that manages to keep light about heavy things.
Vicky, played by the lovely European actress Rebecca Hall, and Cristina, played by the very American beauty Scarlett Johansson, are the best of friends, mostly due to their opposite views of life and love. Vicky is the sensible, focused, realistic one while Cristina is mostly lost in the clouds of imagination and dreams of living a life of art and culture. Case in point: the two girls travel to Barcelonato live with friends of the family (Patricia Clarkson and Kevin Dunn). Vicky is there to study the Catalan culture as that, pretentiously, is the subject of her Master’s thesis, while Cristina is there to clear her head of a twelve-minute film that she made and hated.
It isn’t long before Vicky and Cristina run across Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a bohemian artist, a painter more famous for his fiery relationship with his ex wife, Maria Elena, than his painting. Bardem as Juan Antonio is excellent, and his dry sense of humor is perfect for the role. The role could not be more of a 180 degree turn from his chilling, psychopathic Chigurgh in No Country for Old Men. Juan Antonio spares no words as he frankly invites the two ladies to spend a weekend with him in Oviedo where, he hopes, the three of them will make love. Juan Antonio’s hedonistic approach to the meaninglessness of life fits Cristina’s sensibilities perfectly, but Vicky is the voice of reason. Her voice of reason soon loses out to whimsy and the three are off to Oviedo.
Things become complicated after a twist of fate in Oviedo, and the three soon return to Barcelona where Vicky tries to forget the weekend and move on with her life and subsequent marriage to Doug, an American cliché of materialism, and the antithesis to Juan Antonio, and to the world of Barcelona as a whole.
Meanwhile, Cristina decides to move in with Juan Antonio as she has become his muse of sorts. It isn’t long then that Maria Elena, played with volatile passion by Penelope Cruz, resurfaces in Juan’s life. Maria is a fiery artist, and more talented than Juan Antonio. The two have a powerful love/hate relationship that, according to Maria, can only work with the presence of a third in the relationship. In this instance, the third is the free spirit of Cristina, so the three spend some time together in a partnership of sorts that effectively confronts common notions of human sexuality and the conventions of relationships.
The film elevates a notch once Cruz arrives, as her Maria Elena is fascinatingly unstable in the very “artist” sense of the word. He instability creates the genius in her work, and her volatile relationship with Bardem’s Juan Antonio is an excellent juxtaposition of mood and emotion. Cruz is definitely the draw once she shows up, and her very regal beauty is something to behold in and of itself. Cruz does her best work in her native tongue, and her high-pitched, rapid-fire Spanish can be violent and funny all at the same time. Bardem and Cruz play off each other well. Johannson’s Cristina is merely a passive body in the film to be acted upon rather than take action. She is a muse, a floating blond beauty that inspires, but she has no real idea what makes her inspiring. In this sense, Johannson plays the part well, but one wishes she was given the chance to showcase her talent as an actress the way she did in Lost in Translation.
While the three free spirits roam the Spanish countryside, Vicky is back in Barcelona, pining away at the ins and outs of Catalan culture while Doug stays distracted with what house they are to buy when they move back stateside. All the while, Vicky is preoccupied by the memories of that weekend with Juan Antonio, and she is conflicted on what to do and what direction her life, stable until now, should go. Hall takes on the Woody Allen persona early on, as her neurosis resembles the unsure ramblings of most of the characters Allen writes for himself. But she is not trapped by this as she transforms and evolves several times throughout the film. Hall’s narrow, thin-framed beauty and appearance is a perfect foil to Johannson’s fuller, more voluptuous bombshell appearance.
Allen shoots the film with the perfect splash of sun-drenched yellows, highlighting the beauty of the Spanish countryside. The set is not exploited however, as the look is tight and small in stature so as to serve the actors in the world Allen creates. Allen also has a knack for conversation much like the late Robert Altman, as many of the scenes here feel organic or unforced. Dialogue bounces off other dialogue and weaves in and out like conversations do in the real world. Allen seems to have found new inspiration shooting his pictures in Europe. Match Point, in several ways, is a far superior film, but it is meant to be. Vicky Cristina Barcelona is meant to be something pretty to look at and something to get a laugh out of from time to time. At the same time, it also confronts the very notion of human sexuality and relationships as understood in their common definition.
I do wish that Allen had not created such a cliché for the American influence of Doug. Everything he does feels like it is what he is supposed to do, not necessarily what he would do. And the subplot involving Patricia Clarkson’s character, while serving Vicky’s development, seems tacked on. But these are minor setbacks in a film that shows up, does what it is supposed to do, and does it well.
B+
HULK (MODERATELY) SMASH
The Incredible Hulk: Universal Pictures (Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Tim Roth, William Hurt) Runtime: 1hr 54m
The reboot of the Hulk franchise isn’t quite incredible, but it isn’t bad either. Five years after Ang Lee left fanboys and audiences scratching their heads with his psychological, ultimately dull Hulk film starring Eric Bana, Marvel took it upon themselves to refresh one of their most indelible characters by tightening the pathos and gunning for an action-heavy story. In this, they succeeded for the most part. The new film is faster, angrier, and smartly aimed at fans of the comic and the popular television series of the seventies starring Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno.
To avoid a half hour of set up, the back story of Dr. Bruce Banner (Edward Norton), where he is overexposed to gamma rays and becomes the green Goliath when his heart rate becomes too high, is delivered with jump cuts beneath the opening credits. The film itself opens up with Banner hiding out in South America, working both to keep his Hyde in check while trying to find a cure. Banner is hiding from General William “Thunderbolt” Ross (a scenery chewing William Hurt), an aggressive military grump hell bent on capturing Banner and using his powers as a weapon. Ross employs a team led by Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth), a power-hungry field agent who, upon seeing the Hulk, spots a chance to become indestructible himself.
The film unfolds as a chase pic for the most part. Once Blonsky and Ross track down Banner in South America, it isn’t long before he ‘Hulks out” and begins wreaking havoc, first in a bottling factory, mostly in the shadows, then back at Banner’s old stomping grounds, a Virginia University campus. In between episodes, Banner tracks down his old flame (and the General’s daughter), Betty Ross, played by an overly soft-speaking Liv Tyler. She immediately begins helping Bruce find a cure, and the two are soon on their way to New York, where a mysterious connection may or may not have the answer for Bruce.
Meanwhile, Blonsky becomes more and more obsessed with having what Banner has, and ultimately overloads on whatever it is he is being injected with and becomes a scaly, spiny beast known to fanboys as Abomination. This sets the stage for a showdown in the streets of Manhattan between Hulk and Abomination that is exciting in its sheer energy and ferocious destruction. In one instance, Hulk employs two halves of a police car as big metal gloves to lay some smack down on Abomination. The scene is quite breathtaking.
As a matter of fact, the most important thing here to study is the Hulk himself, as the look here is a much dingier, more realistic looking green color than the almost neon hue of Ang Lee’s version. This version, if it can be, is more realistic. And the effects and interaction between the actors and the Hulk are seamless. Norton does his usual solid work here as Banner, and his small frame and bookworm appearance fit the character perfectly. Roth’s Blonsky is a worthy adversary for Banner, and he seems to be enjoying his role. Tyler has her bright moments, but she is primarily here for window dressing and to fill the character. In this, she succeeds. And Hurt, while he is not bad (he never is), he seems the most out of place in his role as the fiery general. He wiggles his mustache and grimaces at all the right times, but he never really seems threatening. And I never quite understood why he needed to track down Banner and dissect the Hulk out of him to use for a weapon if he did, in fact, have whatever he had to inject Blonsky. Why wouldn’t that work?
Despite the big logic flaw there, the story and the direction from Louis Letterier serves its story well. The action scenes are intense, and there is the very necessary winks back to the original series, including a cameo from Lou Ferrigno and even the late Bill Bixby. The obvious comparisons are with Ang Lee’s 2003 version, but this film can also be placed next to this years superior Iron Man to see where it stands among comic book adaptations. And, of course, Robert Downey Jr. makes his cameo as Tony Stark in the film, as Marvel continues to set up their Avengers film. The Incredible Hulk does not have the flair, the pop, or the panache of Iron Man, but that is more the difference in the central characters than any flaws with the film. Not quite Incredible, but entertaining and worth watching.
B
WHAT IS ‘HAPPENING’ TO M. NIGHT?
The Happening – Mark Whalberg, Zooey Deschanel. Director – M. night Shyamalan. 90 Min.
As Mark Wahlberg and Zooey Deschanel look into the distance, trying to find the remnants of what was once a promising directing career for M. Night Shyamalan, upon watching his newest mess, The Happening, I am looking for the same thing. I have been an M. Night apologist for the span of his career ever since he burst on the scene with the chilling supernatural thriller, The Sixth Sense, and followed it up with, in a way superior, Unbreakable. Signs showed some shakiness in his craft, but was still thrilling and an exciting film, and The Village, while most critics hated it, I found quite inventive and highly interesting. Then came Lady in the Water, one of the biggest, messiest wrecks of a film in the last ten years. Yet I was steadfast, explaining that even Spielberg has his moments of failure. But now, after watching The Happening, I am seeing a startling trend, and it has nothing to do with the strange events in the film.
So let’s get into this thing. It opens up in New York’s Central Park, where suddenly, people begin freezing in place, some taking a few steps back, speaking in nonsense, and finding the closest weapon to use to kill themselves in gruesome ways. People jab sharp objects into their necks, people fall from the rooftop of a construction site. The image of people mindlessly falling from the rooftop is deeply disturbing and a chilling effect, though I feel like this image, as it was prevalent in the trailers, was the selling point for M. Night’s entire movie.
Jump to Philadelphia, where Elliot Moore (Mark Wahlberg), a high school science teacher is having a discussion with his class about the mysterious disappearance of honeybees. It isn’t long before ‘the event’ is in the news, and school is out. Not long after this, the mysterious gas/toxin that is in the air gets to Philadelphia, where people cut their throat with a set of keys, a police handgun is used in a chain of suicides, and chaos spreads. So the next move is for Elliot to get his wife, Alma (Deschanel), who may or may not be having an affair, and himself out of town. In tow is Elliot’s math teacher friend, Julian (the horribly miscast John Leguizamo) and his daughter, Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez who, apparently, is comatose the whole time as her acting is atrociously dull).
It isn’t long before times become desperate, and the escapees train stops in the middle of nowhere because they have lost contact with ’everyone.’ Never mind the fact that this toxin has only spread over a small portion of New England. This is the smaller of the giant plot holes and failures in logic. This thing then turns into a chase film, as the characters then begin to try and outrun… air. The air they try and outrun has more weight that the ridiculous dialogue. Once it is divulged that flowers and plants are the one responsible, not terrorists, it is up to the brave high school science teacher to lead this small group of refugees.
Where to begin here… let’s start with the ’plot.’ The story itself is a very high concept. The fact that nature is attempting to purge itself of humans, to defend itself against a race that is steadily destroying it is a very interesting idea. However, as executed here, it is nothing more than borderline retarded. There are too many plot holes. First, when everyone becomes affected in a certain area, it seems that there is one person to observe the situation in horror for no good reason. And never mind the fact that, as this toxin is apparently emitted from the grass and the trees and the flowers, the first people to be affected in one area are a group of construction workers on top of a roof. And then, once Elliot figures out that the toxin kicks in only when people are in larger groups, what does the thing do but attack a crazy old lady in the middle of nowhere (Betty Buckley) when she is all alone.
Which brings me to Buckley’s portion, the final act of this thing. Elliot, Alma, and Jess (her father, Julian, went back to find his wife) stumble upon Mrs. Jones who is living cut off from the world in an old home. She doesn’t want to hear about any ‘event,’ or anything really, and for no good reason. And she is inexplicably strict, strange, scary, and all around crazy. And yet, she serves absolutely no purpose to the larger aspects of the story. Her performance makes absolutely no sense.
Which leads me (sigh) to the performances themselves. They are all, from top to bottom, just plain bad. Wahlberg is whiny, soft, and annoying. Deschanel is whatever, just a body filling a character. The two are not believable as a couple. And we need not worry about young Ashlyn Sanchez becoming a child-star casualty, as she has no charisma or discernible talent. While the performances are bad, the biggest problem with these characters is the dialogue written by Shyamalan himself. Early on, I could shrug off the ridiculous lines (‘don’t take my daughter’s hand unless you mean it.’ What the hell does that even mean?), but as they continued (‘we can’t just stand here like uninvolved observers. An obvious attempt to bring more social commentary into this mess.) I started to roll my eyes so much my head began to hurt. I don’t know where people speak these words that Shyamalan writes, but it is no place on this planet.
And then the ending. In a film called The Happening, it is cruel irony that nothing, in fact, happens. It ends. The toxins stop, and for no good reason, and just after we are led to believe that they were intensifying. Everything is left to a high-strung doctor explaining things on the nightly news. It is, perhaps, the laziest give up I can remember in a film. It is as if Shyamalan was given a challenge to write a script in an hour on some reality show. I can go on and on about the shortcomings of The Happening, but I think you get the picture. After the second turd in a row, my confidence and support in Shyamalan has waned considerably. Perhaps Shyamalan needs to read someone else’s script, someone with the ability to write believable characters. Shyamalan once self-proclaimed himself to be the next Hitchcock. I am sorry, Night, but with stinkers like this one, you may be headed more towards a career mirroring the likes of… well… nobody has fallen this far this fast.
D-
HALF-COCKED SUMMER FLICK
HANCOCK: Will Smith, Jason Bateman, Charlize Theron. Director: Peter Berg. 87 min.
Will Smith’s latest July 4th blockbuster, Hancock, is what you may consider ‘minor Smith.’ It is two-thirds of an entertaining, sometimes fascinating film that flips many superhero archetypes on their head. But it is also one third, the final third unfortunately, a flat-out mess.
Hancock is a reluctant superhero, a boozing, hateful super being who does more damage than good when he flies onto the scene. He is, in a sense, Superman, with his ability to fly, deflect bullets, throw cars around like a baseball, and stop speeding trains. He is also, quite literally, a wreck. The film opens with Hancock foiling a freeway shootout, leaving the criminals dangling in their car atop the Capital Records building. While he does stop the shootout, he also amasses millions of dollars in damage along the way, drawing the ire of city officials and civilians alike. This idea in and of itself is interesting, as it has always been the case in superhero movies, I have stopped to think “Gosh, he saved the day, but he sure did tear up the city in doing so,” more than once.
Enter Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman), a down-on-his-luck PR director who, after being saved from a speeding train by Hancock, takes it upon himself to help Hancock rebuild his public image, pitching the idea over Spaghetti dinner with his son and his wife, Mary (Charlize Theron). After mulling over the idea, Hancock agrees to take Ray’s suggestion to heart. The first step, however, is turning himself over to authorities, as a warrant has been issued for his arrest for causing so much damage across the city.
Hancock agrees to go to jail, even though, as shown in a couple of amusing examples, there is no way prison walls can hold Hancock. Again, his prison stay is more of a PR move than actual incarceration. As Hancock sits out his time, he goes through anger management, stops drinking, and begins to change himself. It isn’t long before the chief of police is calling Hancock, and he needs his services to stop a robbery that has gotten out of hand. This is where we are privy to the new-and-improved Hancock, complete with a silly costume and a more self-conscious approach to heroics. Hancock saves the day, and is a hero once again. Up to this point, the film itself has been humming along, and the characters and the story are moving with poise and confidence. But, in only a few minutes does the film begin to crumble under the weight of it’s busy plot.
Theron’s Mary has a secret, a tie to Hancock that will leave you scratching your head. As soon as the secret here is revealed, the story systematically falls apart at the seams. While this segment does shed some light on Hancock’s origin, it does not serve the story that had come before it. Everything changes, and for the worse. Without saying too much as to the plot’s downfall, the development seems unneccessary, and it takes us to a final result that is more ho-hum than ha-ha.
The performances are all solid here, perhaps the saving grace of the movie even as it begins to unravel. Smith does a good job of showing the inner psychosis of a burdened, lonely superhero. Bateman delivers his typical, spot-on comic timing and witty retorts as a big-hearted PR man. And Theron, while her character may ultimately be the downfall of the film itself, her performance is as solid as it can be given the writing.
Director Peter Berg (The Kingdom) does do a solid job giving this film the look of a more prestigious film than it turns out to be. But the writing and the plot, again, collapses the film. What I would have liked to see was a defined villain, perhaps someone with their own powers, who has begun to turn to criminal activity to deal with their own problems. Instead, we get a group of villains that are flat and stale, and never threatening. Perhaps, then, with a fresher villain, an existential showdown between Hancock, the changed one, and the defiant villain, would have kept the heart and the focus of the first two acts in tact throughout.
C+
EVERYTHING YOU COULD WANT
WANTED: James MacAvoy, Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman. Director: Timur Bekmambetov. 100 min.
This summers heaviest and hardest-hitting summer flick to date, Wanted, is pure hedonistic joy from start to finish. As the summer-movie season has been humming along without so much as a hiccup in the stale day to day, the new James MacAvoy, Angelina Jolie actioneer is a great wake up call, and something to stir the pot with The Dark Knight just on the horizon.
MacAvoy plays Wesley Gibson, a genuine nobody. He Googles his name and turns up nothing. He is, what else, an accountant. His best friend, a real doofus, is bedding his bitch girlfriend, and his boss is a continuous kick in the crotch. Everything about him is painfully ordinary, save for the prescription he takes for what he assumes are panic attacks.
Wes is in the pharmacy one evening when he is approached by Fox (a sultry and mysterious Angelina Jolie, back in her groove and enjoying her craft), who is there to save his butt from an assassin in a rousing chase sequence full of outlandish stunt work, and take him back to meet, as they are simply called, ‘The Fraternity.’
‘The Fraternity’ is headed by Sloan, played by Morgan Freeman. Freeman mixes up his typical ‘old and wise’ role by adding an edge to his personality. Sloan explains to Wes that he has special talents, the same as his father had, to be a flawless assassin. He also lets it be known that his father was gunned down by a rogue from the group, fueling Wes’s desire to become a member of ’The Fraternity.’
Once Wes buys into the idea, the all important training montage is underway. But this is not just learning the ropes of weaponry, this is rigorous mental and physical training that is as brutal as it is interesting. Wes is tied up and pummelled to learn to endure pain, he is forced to knife fight, and he learns to do the most vital trick of the trade: he learns to curve a bullet.
Curving a bullet? you ask. Yes. The idea on its own may get some eyes to rolling, but then again, any of the events that take place in Wanted, if isolated, may do the same. The important thing here is that a world has been created for these events to all go together and create adrenaline rushes more than guffaws. Virtually every action sequence has some fantastic stunt or series of stunts that are impossible in the world we live in, but not in the world that director Timur Bekmambetov has created from the comic-book series. Having created said world, the events can unfold without the audience stopping down or giving up on it by saying, simply “that could never happen.” That is the point, and if the audience can suspend their disbelief, they can then appreciate the creativity and ingenuity that was put in each and every scene.
A lot of times in films as this, the audience is asked to check their brain at the door. Not the case here. Bring your brain and your ears withyou, as the dialogue, the wit, and the performances all pop with the energy and the same intelligent design of the action pieces. And the story does not just float along on less plot and more action. The action serves the story, and vice-versa. MacAvoy, shedding his soft-hearted role in Atonement, has bulked up and chiseled his speech to deliver a performance full of pop and charm. And Angelina Jolie, as the sultry super-assassin Fox, embellishes her tattooed killer better than anyone could.
Rated a hard R, Wanted is ultra-violent and brutal, but it serves it up well with style and panache. There are the obvious camera-tricks, thematic allusions, and similar attitudes of Fight Club, The Matrix, and last years Shoot ‘Em Up, but Wantedis not ripping these films off. It is simply joining their… fraternity… of sharp action smackdowns.
A-
Seeing Isn’t Believing
X-Files: I Want to Believe (PG-13) – David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson – 1hr. 44min.
I will try to avoid the unfortunate subtitle of the newest X-Files movie when I explain the trouble with the picture. The film itself has plenty of problems to deal with aside from I Want to Believe…
David Duchovney and Gillian Anderson are back together as Mulder and Scully in the two roles that launched their careers over a decade ago. The story avoids the first (and far superior) film, and picks up some six years after the television series left the air where Agent Fox Mulder is exiled and in hiding from the FBI upon the liquidation of the X-Files Investigation Unit. Meanwhile, Dana Scully has turned to a career in neurosurgery.
Meanwhile, the search is on for a missing woman in West Virginia, and the new FBI agents’ most promising lead are the psychic visions of Father Crissman (Bill Connolly), a priest booted from the priesthood after being convicted of molesting upwards of 30 alter boys. As the FBI search team, led by Agent Dakota Whitney (a startlingly forgettable Amanda Peet) follows Father Crissman through the snowy West Virginia wilderness, he uncovers, first, a severed arm. This, then, is where Agent Whitney feels that the expertise of Mulder and Scully may be needed.
Whitney’s partner, Drummy (played horridly by the rapper Xzibit) seeks out Mulder by asking Scully of his whereabouts. Scully then travels to a rural farmhouse and finds Mulder, who is busy cutting out newspaper clippings and pinning them to the walls. See, he has been in hiding for a long time. How do I know that? He has a beard. And it’s all scruffy and everything.
Scully convinces Mulder to come back to the FBI and help out the seemingly confused Agents who desperately don’t want to believe the priest, even though he continues to lead them to buried body parts. Mulder shows back up, and he does really nothing. He is only there because he is the believer of the two, and he is the one who buys what this tainted priest is selling. He lends no police work or intuition outside of ordering a car. To go where? Well, he’s “not sure yet.”
The plot begins to unfold as Father Crissman leads them to more and more evidence. He even cries tears of blood in front of the agents, but when he cannot pick up any vision at the site of a car accident where a woman was abducted, the Feds simply dismiss him and think he has nothing. Nevermind that he has led them to their only evidence and cried tears of blood. He must be in on it. The poor logic here is just the tip of the iceberg as to the stupidity of Peet’s character, and Xzibit’s character… fughettaboutit.
What comes to pass is that (spoilers ahead… Not that it really matters) a team of Russian scientists, or murderers, or something, has been harvesting the women’s bodies to try and get one of their own a new body, as his is eaten up with cancer. They get the women from the same public pool, and they know they have the same blood type as their friend because of some bracelets they wear. So, yeah, they are going to attach the body of one of these women to the head of their friend. Oh yeah, and their friend is one of the former victims of Father Crissman.
Oh, and there is a two-headed dog in the mix as well… Don’t even ask.
The X-Files was never driven by characters. It was always successful due to the plot and the elements of the story. Let’s face it, Mulder and Scully are not the most charismatic people, and their development as a couple is as muddy as the plot. When Scully first seeks out Mulder, it almost seems as if she has gone looking for him. But a few scenes later, there they are, sleeping in bed together, in the same house. Then, later on, they talk about how they cannot be together. It’s as if the screenplay wants to keep this tension between the two characters, but the characters cannot sustain such a tension on their own without a workable story to surround them. The film then becomes stale and the action dull and shrouded in darkness or weighted with snow. Connolly does a serviceable job as the troubled priest, but his part diminishes for some reason as the story continues. And I was utterly amazed by how Amanda Peet is so forgettable here. I would forget from scene to scene that she was even in the picture until I saw her again. And Xzibit, please, the acting experiment is officially over.
Two thirds in, when the suspense attempts to pick up, there are some interesting sci-fi elements that do appear (nothing with aliens, unfortunately), but they are gone too quickly and I was so uninvested with the story by then that it didn’t really make a difference. I realize that the series dealt, at times, with psychics and missing persons and murderers. However, for the average moviegoer, and for myself, the first thing that pops into my head when I think of X-Files is extra terrestrials. Without that, director (and the show’s creator) Chris Carter has made what I assume is a fanboy’s only film, but nothing that is remotely memorable, chilling, surprising, or interesting.
C-
COMEDY STEP CHILD
From the outside, Adam McKay’s new comedy Step Brothers looks like quite the funny summer romp. Will Ferrell and John C. Reilley, a comic duo who is considered a great combination by heresay rather than actual films done together (only one prior), play Brennan and Dale respectively, two man children who are at odds when their parents, Richard Jenkins and Mary Steenburgen, marry each other. The set up is there, but not much else is in this lackluster comedy that fails much more than it succeeds.
Brennan and Dale hate each other. But, after they find out that, if they were a woman they would both sleep with John Stamos, they become best buds. The plot here isn’t really important, but Brennan and Dale are forced to find a job to move out of the house, a house that is being put on the market by Brennan’s douchebag brother. After purposefully failing at trying a job, of course they do, and all is well. Like I said, the plot is not important, but the comedy, I suppose, is the main draw. It’s too bad that not much is funny.
First of all, Will Ferrell does not do vulgar. Where Ferrell succeeds is when the comedy is completely random, and lacking the words “fuck, “penis,” or any other offensive word. When these words are added, the comedy becomes, for whatever reason, surprisingly unfunny. Vulgar set pieces are fine, but Ferrell does not deliver these lines in the same comedic way as he does when he is saying things like “milk was a bad choice!” Ferrell seems unsure of himself here, and when he does the best is when he appears arrogant and confident. He does not appear that way here. And Reilley is simply playing in a Will Ferrell cover band. Everything he does just seems like a person impersonating Ferrell.
Second of all, there is a very large problem regarding the way in which Dale and Brennan are to be percieved in the story. If these two guys were a couple of burnouts, a couple of forty-year olds living in their parents house because they want to, or because they have no drive or motivation, that would be one thing. But as it is here, the two man children seem mentally retarded. Now, mental retardation can be played for laughs, but that is only if the characters are clearly made retarded. See: The Farrelley Brothers Films. But in this instance, Dale and Brennan seem too stupid to be believable. Their parents would not force them to go and get a job if, in fact, they were as dumb as they are in the film. The way the parents have to correct their eating habits and their manners suggests that they have some developmental disorder, not that they are simply annoying.
Step Brothers is, flat out, not funny. My laughter never raised above a chuckle, and those were too far and in between to recommend this film. This might be the only time where I wish the film would have been PG-13 instead of R. Then, maybe, Ferrell and Reilley would have been able to flex their random comedy muscles like they did in Ricky Bobby.
D
HIGH TIMES
PINEAPPLE EXPRESS: Seth Rogen, James Franco. 105 min.
Comedies typically don’t grab me from the outset. It usually takes a second viewing to really let go of the laughs, but in Pineapple Express, the latest edition from the Judd Apatow Hollywood Gold Factory, the laughs are immediate, if not lasting throughout the story. It is clear now, after seeing Step Brothers and Pineapple Express back to back, that the Apatow clan now runs the Hollywood comedy world. Will Ferrell? He’s so 2005.
Now, Pineapple Express isn’t flawless as a comedy, as it attempts to work in action to a fault near the end. Nevertheless, the heavy chuckles and all-out hysterical, slobbering laughter is readily available, mostly between our two leads. Seth Rogen, the guttural, sarcastic, slovenly comic genius plays Dale, a process server who, much like his character in Apatow’s Knocked Up, is having a tough time adjusting to being an adult. Case in point: his girlfriend is a high school senior. Dale wears a suit, but his job doesn’t entail much effort. Which is why he can drive around smoking pot all day.
Dale’s pot dealer is Saul, played with a deft comic touch by James Franco. Saul is a confused, stoned, sensitive dealer who loves his Grandma and loves watching 227. Franco disappears into this role and is the perfect foil to Rogen’s relative straight man. His comedy is subtle, rambling, aimless, and hilarious while still creating one of the most like able characters in a long time.
Dale doesn’t see Saul as a close friend at first. He is just the dealer. But Saul sells Dale his best weed, Pineapple Express, a potent strain of pot that is like “killing a unicorn” according to Saul. Very funny. After getting his new sack, Dale goes to serve another subpeona and witnesses a murder. The murderer is a dealer named Ted, played by Gary Cole who needs more time here. Ted is aided by a corrupt cop, the curiously cast Rosie Perez, and once Dale witnesses the murder, his noisy getaway draws the attention of the murderers. Once Cole gets a taste of a Pineapple Express roach that Dale ditched at the scene of the murder, he knows where to look.
From here, Dale and Saul spend some time hiding out in the woods in the most detailed development of the two characters. After leaving the woods, Dale and Saul employ the help of Red, the middle man dealer played excellently by Danny McBride. But Red is being pressured by a couple of thugs whom Ted has sent out to find the witness to the murder. The film then unfolds into a meld of action, misunderstandings, and solid comedy that begins to fade into mindless action in the final frames.
Director David Gordon Green handles the material well, and the look of the film is muddy and dank and straight from the 70s, a la Superbad. Rogen and Franco, two Freaks and Geeks alumni, are perfect together. And what is so appealing about these characters is that they appear true and real with each other. Their development as a duo is wonderful for the flow of the story, and it distracts from the flat, paper-thin plot about Asian dealers moving in on Ted’s turf in which the film ultimately becomes distracted. As the final act develops, the comedy disappears and the action, which is nothing special, takes center stage. The film fails, but redeems itself with a hilarious final scene between Rogen, Franco, and McBride (who becomes the default indestructible sidekick) that might cleanse the pallet.
While not perfect, and not on the same level as Knocked Up or Superbad, Pineapple Express is definitely entertaining. Gary Cole, who can be hilarious, is completely wasted here, and Perez is a poor fit. Although the action becomes a bit heavy in the end, the players of the story have built up enough hilarious interaction to forgive the manila action scenes. The comedy is so real and connects with the audience in a way Will Ferrell used to be able to do. But now, those comic connection belong to the Apatow clan.
B+
…wow
The Dark Knight – Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine. 152 min.
This suggestion is to all of you summer moviegoers out there who have enjoyed the rather tame movie landscape the last few months, to those of you who want to sit in a cool theater, out of the heat, and enjoy a bit of lighthearted superhero fare, to those of you looking to kill a few hours… look elsewhere. The Dark Knight is a living thing, something that will get under your skin and leave you dizzy and staggered with emotion, excitement, and psychosis as you leave the theater. It is not only the best superhero film of all time, it is perhaps the best two and a half hours I have spent in a theater in my lifetime. And that is a lot of film.
But let’s not jump the gun, let’s look a bit closer. As we all know by now, this is Heath Ledger’s last completed role, his swan song, and despite the sadness of that thought, this is one hell of a way to finish a career. Ledger’s take on the Joker is one of the best, most complete, most completely insane villains ever to grace the screen. He is an “agent of chaos,” a maniac that creates chaos for the mere enjoyment. There is no motive for his criminal ways, which makes him even more frightening than his grungy, scarred appearance. The performance is something beyond comprehension as it slowly unfolds in front of your eyes.
The Joker, who comes from nowhere this time around, creates mayhem for the sake of creating mayhem, and he starts by going after the mob’s pocketbook. He has the underworld of Gotham in the palm of his hand, and he embellishes the power and cares nothing about financial gain. This is merely his first step in getting Batman to reveal himself, as he sets the stage for a confrontation with the Caped Crusader. But he does not want to kill Batman, instead, he wants to drive Batman into breaking his own rules. He wants to corrupt him, to spoil everything that is good just to prove that he can.
But this is Batman’s movie, right? Well, the title would suggest so, but we know better. And this is no slight on Bale’s performance. Bale is back and in top form, even more so than in the first installment. He seems to have wrangled the identities of both Batman and Bruce Wayne even better, thus taking the reins as the best of the bunch. Where his raspy voice in the first film seemed forced, this time around, the voice seems to serve the character and separate the two identities for the viewer as well as, we can assume, for Wayne himself. With a leaner, more efficient suit and a whole bunch of new toys, Bale has defined the role of Batman even more than any actor before him. But, as the film opens, it is evident that Batman’s place in Gotham is in question for a couple of reasons, one being that his acts of heroism has created a slew of copycats. Another is that a strong, courageous, square-jawed DA named Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) is ridding the streets of the mob without the need of a mask. However, once the maniacal joker jumps on the scene and targets Dent as well, a masked vigilantie may be exactly what the city needs.
Batman and the Joker are definitely the draws here, but director Christopher Nolan realizes what allows these two characters to live and breathe are the supporting characters, so they are given their equal share of time and meat in the story. Michael Caine is back as the butler, Alfred, and Caine is as solid and fatherly as ever. Morgan Freeman, back as the technical guru Lucious Harris, does his thing as well, neither distracting or adding to the story in one way or another. Gary Oldman is back as well as Commissioner Gordon, and he is so immersed into this role that you forget he is acting, you forget who the actor even is playing Gordon. He is given more rope this time, and he does a phenomenal job with the extra scenes.
Then there are the two new faces on the scene. The first is Maggie Gyllenhaal, taking over the reins for Katie Holmes (I won’t throw her under the bus) as Rachel Dawes, and she gives the character more humanity in her mere ability to act better than the previous actress (okay, I guess I did throw her uner the bus. Oh well). The second is Eckhart as Harvey Dent. Dent is a fearless DA hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He is the White Knight of Gotham, but, as you know, he will soon change his ways as he becomes the villainous Two Face. His transformation and look are quite jarring and add an extra flair to the film. You may think Eckhart is in over his head in a film of this magnitude, but he is clearly not. He holds his own, and his character is not overshadowed.
The action is The Dark Knight is big, bold, and jaw dropping. The set piece in the middle of the film involving an eighteen wheeler, a whole gaggle of police automobiles, and Batman’s sweet little motorcycle is truly exhilarating, nothing short of amazing. But the film is not overloaded with action so much that it drowns out any semblance of plot or character development. Nolan allows the story to unfold. The Joker’s cards are not all on the table at first, there is much mystery about this character as we begin. But there are small little hints into his mental makeup, namely through varying stories on how he acquired those smiling scars. And there is also a sense that this Joker has no regard for his own safety or life, adding even more layers to his frightening character.
With the simple, yet powerful score in place, the film, from scene to scene, builds and develops and unfolds and tightens and explodes with so much energy and fervor that it takes some time to even realize the greatness of what is happening. Aside from delivering the action in spades and developing these characters to their fullest, the screenplay from Chris and his brother Jonathan also raises several questions of what exactly makes a hero, what creates villainy, and what keeps people from being ruined. And most of this moral dilemma is raised by Ledger, who absolutely owns his role. While he is as dark and frightening as anything, he also embellishes the maniacal laugh and swift wit that make the character of The Joker what he has always been.
This is a crime-drama, a superhero film, a morality tale, and a summer blockbuster rolled into something special and something that will not soon escape the minds of those who see it. This is a superhero film, mind you, that will haunt you and leave you spellbound from the opening heist to the ending monologue, and for days beyond that. This franchise reboot now has its Empire Strikes Back, its Godfather II. The best thing Nolan and Company can do from here on out is not worry how they can top The Dark Knight with the next installment, because that will be impossible. If they realize this, then the third one will be greatness in and of itself.
A+
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