Monday, June 15, 2009
The Taking Of Pelham 123
The Taking Of Pelham 123 (2009)
Within five minutes the crew of four hijackers is aboard the train. Everything is planned to a tee, calculated, not overlooking any sign of countermove by the MTA workers aboard the train, the MTA dispatch workers at Grand Central Station, the New York City police, or any of the passengers. Calmly and methodically, the hijackers position themselves within the first car, disconnect the first car with the rest of the train, drive it to the middle of the tunnel between 42nd and 50th St., and let havoc pile up before contacting the MTA and making their demands.
When the time is right Robert Shaw picks up the 2-way radio, and calmly and coldy speaks to the irrascible Walter Matthau and makes his demands, "One million dollars in one hour, or a hostage dies for every minute you are late"...
Oh wait. That was 35 years ago, and both Matthau and Shaw are long dead. The decidely Un-PC dialogue and interactions that made the originals interesting, funny, fun, relatable, and real are gone and replaced with Brian Helgeland's snappy if slightly expository dialogue. Helgeland's characters exude testosterone and snappy dialogue the plot unfolds at a comfortably fast pace (the hijacking occurs within the first 5 minutes of the film) so as not to waste any time, but something feels decidedly "off" with this film.
The biggest issue is the casting of leads Denzel Washington and John Travolta as protagonist Walter Garber and villainous mastermind Ryder, respectively. Director Tony Scott focuses solely on these two characters, making them the most fully-formed of anyone else in the movie (something which the original forgoes in an attempt to make every character ---protagonist, villain, and passengers --- at least interesting).
Garber, as played by Washington, is a man who is demoted to train dispatcher after taking a bribe some years ago, so in casting Washington one immediately gets the sense that this is someone who should be in control, but unfortunately isn't. While Washington's turn as "average-Joe-action-hero" in the third act (more on that in a bit) rings less true, this tweaking of his backstory at least makes the image of Washington sitting behind a dispatch desk more plausible. Unlike Ryder's backstory, Garber's backstory makes him a more plausible character for the simple fact that, through the casting of Washington, Garber stopped being an "everyman" and became the center of control; Matthau, back in 1974, was able to be the sardonic everyman who eventually outwits the hijackers; Washington just looks as if he's always on top of his game. At least the casting choice is justified in part by Helgeland's backstory to the character.
Travolta on the other hand plays his role with the subtly of a drunken Jackson Pollack throwing paint on a canvas...only without the artistic merit. Ryder here is given a ridiculous backstory (he's a former Wall Street shark who siphoned funds from a pension fund and was summarily thrown in jail, justifying his grduge against New York), tattoos, sunglasses (in the subway...for some reason) and the most ridiculous handlebar mustache that he might as well have been in biopic about the Village People (which seems apt, in regards to the hints of homosexuality in the character). Every other line said (or rather "shouted") is "Motherfucker", but Travolta cracks his voice while shouting, as if he didn't really know what he was doing and seems uncomfortable in his role. Whoever designed the character's look (especially that fucking mustache) must be stuck in the mid-1990's, when "badass" meant tattoos and scowls (that's not scary. At all. AT ALL). Robert Shaw's character, on the other hand, is given little backstory (the only solid piece of history about him is that he's a former mercenary), never loses his cool, and remains cool, composed and even polite as he's executing people. Travolta is so unhinged he becomes a farce, adn he's played characters like that so often that it's old (hell, his Howard Saint character from 2004's The Punisher is more threatening). Not only is he too unhinged and goofy-looking to appear menacing, but the fact that he's a former Wall Street hustler, to me, implies that he would be more the person to finance and supply the hijackers and reap the benefits, not sit down there in the subway with a gun in his hand. Gone also are the interactions between the hijackers, where we learn to distinguish each as being separate personalities: in this film, I don't even remember hearing the names of the gunmen, and only Ramos had any lines, and they were a lot stronger and in control than Ryder. May Guzman should have been the villain!
I guess the point about Ryder's backstory being unbelievable is more of a personal nitpick, since I'm always of the opinion that the less known about a character (especially a villain or antagonist), the more interesting (or scary) s/he becomes. Examples? Most recently there have been three outstanding villains: Anton Chigurh in No Country For Old Men, Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood, and The Joker in The Dark Knight. What all these characters (which garnered each actor an Oscar, and remain prime examples of evil on film for the past decade) have in common is that they have a limited backstory (the only one with even half a past is Plainview). Explain too much about an iconic villain or character and you strip him of the mystery and interest factor, and the result would be the Halloween remake. (*shudders*)
However, back to this review...
Other actors do well with what screen time and material they're given, the most interesting being John Turturro as Camonetti (the "Greaseball motherfucka'"), a hostage negotiator; James Gandolfini as the Mayor, a pleasant and likable mix of Guiliani and Bloomberg; and Luis Guzman as Phil Ramos, Ryder's right-hand-man and former MTA employee who seems to be the real brains behind the operation (and he's also criminally underused and I wish he was in the film for longer than he was). Barely present? The women. Sure, there's Regina the MTA worker who herds the passengers off the train, and there's Garber's wife (who I don't even think got a name), and there's the girlfriend of a hostage who, while trying to perform a striptease for her boyfriend instead witnesses, via webcam, the hijacking. But this is very much a man's film, so they're unfortunately pushed aside.
Director Tony Scott seems to forget such cumbersome filmmaking techniques like "composition", "pacing", "clarity", "tension", and "relativity". This is the Tony Scott from Domino making a film that should be more like Crimson Tide or True Romance: a film that slowly builds to a dramatic climax. Instead the film opens loudly, and suddenly, to Jay-Z's "99 Problems" as Ryder walks down to the subway, and as the credits play we witness each hijacker getting into place. This is done cleverly (though I don't for the life of me know why he picked that song). But where Scott used the credits to push the story, he then forgets that great use of screentime to show off some directorial "style": at least 3 times in the film we witness either Garber, the Mayor, or Ryder talking to someone (offscreen or not) about something relatively mundane as the camera WHIP-PANS-AROUND-BECAUSE-IT'S-SO-FAST-PACED-AND-EXCITING!!! and then he'll open up the iris to the camera and streak the image and slow.....the.....film.....down....to.....dramatize....NOTHING (this happened during a helicopter flight near the end, when we were treated to no less than four separate slo-mo shots of a helicopter flying over New York). Other flourishes were more confusing: several point-of-view shots from Ryder's viewpoint through a blurry window showed that the camera was either not in focus or the lens was covered in a prism of some sort that blurred everything together, but I couldn't tell what the hell I was looking at. During the race to get the money to the subway, we were treated to shots lasting no more than a second, shot in handheld, with the camera zoomed in so the car or motorcycle in question filled the entire screen: if it weren't for the fact that the movie presented a map indicating where the money car was in relation to its destination, I wouldn't have been able to tell if it was driving down Broadway, a side street, flying through the air, or shooting out of someone's buttcrack. I hate that zoom-in-and-handheld-super-fast-cutting-in-a-car-chase shit.
Every bit of action is cranked up to 10, every line Travolta spews is shouted at level 22, and the music is cranked to 15 (whenever the film cut to the money cars, the soundtrack blasted a rap song, whereas the preceding and succeeding scene would have very subtle, mellow instrumentals playing... suffice it to say it didn't counterpoint very well.) How amp up is the action, when the action arrives? Well, in the original the money car causes a few accidents, then hits a fence, flips over and is totalled and the money is handed over to cops on motorbikes; in this version the money car hits about three or four cars that FLIP OVER possibly killing the passengers and drivers, and then gets hit by an ambulance, flipping over about 8 times, lands in the middle of the FDR Drive, and then an X-Wing fighter swoops down and blows it up. It happens EXACTLY like that. It's as if Scott is overcompensating for the relative lack of action by ramping everything up once the action gets going.
Alexander Witt, the second-unit director, did a commendable job with the chase sequences. It's jsut a shame that Scott's choice in shots seemed to prefer medium and close-up shots where wide shots would be best. I'm no action director, but if I were spending millions of dollars on an action sequence, I would want to shoot it in a way that the audience can actually see what's happening and take the time to absorb everything. Still, Mr. Witt (whose prior credit includes Casino Royale, amongst many other personal favorites) did a great job with the action...it just seemed like too much in what should otherwise be a potboiler thriller.
Whether this film is a remake to the 1974 film, or a third adaptation of the John Godey novel by the same name, one thing is true: it is solid enough until the action starts. It wasn't a vast improvement on the original, but I wasn't bored, and remember laughing at a few of Helgeland's lines. Once the chase is on, and once the third act starts everything seems to fall apart and it becomes a by-the-numbers thriller, as Garber realizes he's the ONLY person who can catch Ryder: I couldn't buy that, seeing as we've been led to accept Garber as a smarter-than-average everyman for two acts and it is unlikely he'll have the composure, skills, and driving expertise to chase Ryder down. The third act remained a problem i nthe 1974 film as well, as once the hijackers leave the train there's still 20 minutes left, and everything feels very anticlimactic.
If the action had stayed on the train this would have been a fun, believable if forgettable thriller. Scott's style of directing the action seems more appropriate for the mid-1990's adrenaline junkies, the kind of pacing that Speed excelled at. Here it's just inappropriate, especially as just the last act of the film is paced thusly.
I'd use the cliched "rollercoaster" ride analogy for this movie, but it doesn't seem apt. This is more like an express train that accelerates way too fast on its last stretch: most of it is a pleasant ride, but then it just goes by waaaaay too fast, and when you reach your final stop you vow, in an angry show against the conductors, never to ride that train again.
Judge for yourself, as I'm unlikely to see this movie again.
I did, however, see the trailer to Martin Scorsese's new movie Shutter Island, and it looks amazingly good. Can't wait. Also, I need to see Moon.
Compare the above trailer with the one below, for the 1974 original. I don't know about you, but the one below seems like a hell of a better time, if you ask me.
P.S. --- I saw The Hangover on Sunday as well. Expect a review soon.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Up
Up (2009)
Pixar is the standard when it comes to great storytelling, and is the type of studio that other studios should be aspiring to become. Of their 10 feature films, none has bombed (at least as of yet), and with each successive film, they've just gotten better and better, not only in terms of quality of filmmaking, but also with the emotional resonance of the story, the characters, and pacing. Wall-E was so good upon first viewing that I couldn't believe that there'd be another animated film that could even compare, much less by the same studio (that, despite the relatively weak second and third acts). But within the first ten minutes of Up, director Pete Doctor and co-director Bob Peterson pack more emotion in a quiet, wordless montage than any other film to come out this summer.
The montage is one of the best things Pixar has done yet. In it, we are introduced to Carl Fredricksen (voiced by a lovably droll Ed Asner) and his wife Ellie (Elie Doctor) as they first met as children. Carl is enamored with the exploits of adventurer Charles Muntz (voiced by Christopher Plummer), who has disappeared in South America in search of a rare giant bird. While walking home one day, young Carl meets young Ellie in an abandoned house, and they form a quick (if slightly quirky) friendship. This segment of dialogue ends when Carl falls from a beam and breaks his arm; while in bed that night a blue balloon weighted down by a stick flaots into his room, and Ellie climbs into his room and shares her Adventure Book with him. He promises that one day they'll make it to South America (which is where her adventure is to hopefully take place), and the scene ends and a montage begins.
The montage sums up the entire relationship between Carl and Ellie, from their courtship, to their marriage. They work at a zoo, she in the aviary, he as a balloon salesman. They set money aside for their South American adventure. But then Carl breaks his leg, and they take out from their savings. They save up again. Then a tree falls on their roof; goodbye savings. They start over. They try to have children, but can't. In their later years, Ellie becomes depressed; Carl remembers the promise he'd made when they were children and buys tickets to South America. He takes her on a picnic to surprise her, but she falls ill. She's in the hospital; a single blue balloon floats into her room. Carl walks in and hugs her, and then sits down. When he stands up he's alone in a funeral home holding a blue balloon, and as he turns to walk out, the scene dissolves into him walking alone into his house and closing the door on the audience.
People cried during this sequence, and I couldn't help but let myself get worked up also. Within 10 minutes we know everything about Carl, Ellie, their life together, and why later in the film Carl is a grumpy miser. This is simple, elegant storytelling in a purely visual sense (remember the scene in Citizen Kane where Kane's marriage to his first wife is shown in its entirety, from love to breakdown, over the course of a few minutes' cuts at a dinner table? Same thing here); Michael Giacchino's (yes! I love that guy!) beautiful score respectfully undercutting the emotional beats, making them that much more resonant. The scene is heartbreakingly simple, beautiful, and perfect.
However, Pixar perfoms a complete tonal shift (something which would ruin lesser films) and becomes a light-hearted comedy with enough sight gags and dialogue to please the many kids in the theatre, as well as the equally-numerous adults.
Carl's house is the last obstacle in an urban development programs. Carl is rude to Russell (voiced by Jordan Nagai, who comes ever-so-close to being annoying), a Junior Adventure Explorer, and tells him to find an imaginary snipe which ruins his garden. Contractors are trying to push him off his property and sell his house, and when a clumsy construction worker accidentally knocks over Carl's mailbox, Carl hits him with his cane, and agrees to be taken to a nursing home. On the day he is to be taken off though, Carl escapes his plight by tying thousands of helium balloons together and sailing his house through the sky to South America. However, he fails to take into account Russell sneaking aboard his house, and he soon finds himself having to deal with this stowaway.
And that's just the first 30 minutes of the movie. I tend to view the first third as The Wizard of Oz (complete with a thunderstorm and swirling house!); the second third is like Fitzcarraldo; and the third act is right out of an RKO serial, or a film like Gunga Din or The Most Dangerous Game (it is even complete with a horde of ravenous dogs, a clever nod to that film). All of these homages combine well and never once feel tacked on.
The biggest surprise to me though was not in how advanced the animation was, but how organic and real everything felt. Every piece of action i nthe film occurs as a result of a decision made by one of the characters, and none of the characters felt unneccesary (even the inclusion of a talking animal, in this case Dug the dog---voiced perfectly by Bob Peterson---felt intrinsic to the story. Hell, I loved Dug! I want a stuffed Dug doll...for my girlfriend. Yeah.) The conflicts faced within the story were stronger as a result of the action being character-based rather than plot-based, and it's a skill that the Pixar filmmakers have perfected.
I won't ruin the rest of the plot outside of what I've already described here, because there is so, so much more to witness once you sit down and watch Up. There are so many moments of perfection and originality and comedy, and it mixes so well with its moments of beauty and sadness and surrealism and symbolism. The image of Carl dragging his floating house over a rocky desert is surrealism enough (and, again, is an homage to the insane genius of Werner Herzog), but once you realize that Carl's obsession with transporting his house to the edge of a waterfall is causing so many problems for the other characters the image of the house takes on an entirely different meaning; the image of the thousands of balloons unfurling into the sky is enough of an inspiring, iconic moment for the film, but for me one of the more beautiful moments comes a few seconds later, where we see a little girl playing in her room, and suddenly the room is lit up into a million colors as the balloons float past: here the simple beauty of color transforms a quiet moment in a child's room into a magical one.
And magic is the name of the game when it comes to Pixar. Pete Doctor, Andrew Stanton, and everyone involved with Pixar has my utmost respect and envy (from what I know of people who interned there, everyone at Pixar absolutely loves thier job...and I would too). They've turned the story of a lonely, elderly man into a funny, dramatic, emotional story of escaping into our own version of paradise and, therein, take responsibility for our lives, learn to care about others and, eventually, move on to better things.
As I said earlier, there's so much more to talk about with this movie that I'll probably revisit this film in the future and talk about it at length (when I know that everyone who reads this has seen it). The direction, story, voice-acting, and character design is flawless. Michael Giacchino once again creates a memorable, beautiful score. And Pixar has created another priceless film to add to their ouevre.
If you see it in theatres (and I hope you do), make sure you catch the Toy Story 3 preview, as well as the short film Partly Cloudy (not as fun as Presto!, but good nonetheless). And if you don't see the film in 3D, it's not a problem, trust me. Unlike Coraline, little is added to the experience (although nothing is taken away either).
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Remake On My Remake Post
Since my rant about remakes several months back, there have been several new remakes announced, and here are some of them: Barbarella, Short Circuit, Valley Girl, Girls Just want To Have Fun, Total Recall, Predator, Alien, Footloose, My Bloody Valentine, The Crazies, Clash Of The Titans, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Scream, Red Dawn, The Karate Kid, Park Chan-Wook's unreleased new film, Thirst. In fact, those were all announced within the past two weeks.
I understand that remakes have occurred throughout the history of cinema (what is The Magnificant Seven other than a remake to The Seven Samurai? What is The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly other than a remake to Yojimbo? Even Hitchcock remade his own movies: The Lodger, and The Man Who Knew Too Much for example), but usually there's a reasoning behind it. For Hitchcock, he wanted to improve on a film that he felt had potential yet was shot in a point in his career where he was still a novice; once he acquired all the skills he'd needed to be a master, he remade his film to perfect it. In regards to Magnificant Seven and Good, Bad..., it was a matter of transitioning a near-perfect story into popular genre so as to maximize its storytelling potential (Westerns were pretty much the rage in the 1960's when these remakes were released) as the originals might have been a challenge to more the conservative American audiences in the 1950's when they were originally released. And the remakes are just as highly regarded as the originals upon which they are based.
Can the same be said for the spate of remakes that have been released over the past five years? Let's name some: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, The Hills Have Eyes 2, Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth, The Stepford Wives, The Invasion, War Of The Worlds, The Omen, The Women, The Honeymooners, SWAT, 3:10 To Yuma, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I Dream Of Jeannie, Herbie: Fully Loaded, The Taking On Pelham 123, etc. etc. (these were the only ones I could think of without going through Amazon or IMDB, but merely using my own memory and experience). Of these films, how many of them were actually worth the experience of watching them (sure, Pelham isn't released yet, but do the trailers really look that interesting?) I would say, of that list, maybe two were worth watching (and, to a point, are at least comparable to the originals).
In an age of Blockbuster, Netflix, and Hulu, is it really necessary to remake (or "reboot" or "reimagine") films? Are these films even in need of being remade? Is a film like Alien or Predator or The Thing so bad and incoherent and unprofitable as to warrant being remade and improved upon? (The easy answer is "No, of course not. Don't be an idiot"). In an age where Wall-E is hailed as a technical and storytelling classic, it makes sense to remake Short Circuit, but it's still uneccesary (even with "Greg The Bunny" and "Robot Chicken" scribe Dan Milano writing). And when it comes to horror films, it seems common for a remake to appear every few years (hell, I thought the Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake wasn't that bad).
But why does it seems as if, of late, a remake is being announced every three to four days (and I'm not even pulling that rate out of my ass)? Well, the current troubled state of the economy is one factor; despite a stronger-than-expected first quarter for this year, theatre attendance is still down about 7-8% as compared to last year (the struggling economy is not the only factor, but also the proliferation of HD-quality home-theatre systems, and the ease at which one can rent or buy films or stream them online).
Audiences seem to know the films they're going to attend, and (especially in the summer) these films are tentpole features, event films, or movies that benefit from incentives such as 3D, IMAX, or digital projection. However, sometimes not even these are incentive enough for audiences (just observe the steep drop-off in the second week after the release of Watchmen back in March).
What to do with dwindling ticket sales and competition in the home-theatre market? Well...repackage old films with new stars, new directors, and similar (if not the exact same) stories, then release it into theatres.
That's all well and good, and I can understand why studios would want to repackage their films to new audiences. But I think it'd be vastly cheaper to release the originals in revival theatres or in an event-worthy DVD or Blu-Ray release. Imagine the amount of money spent to acquire the rights to a movie like, say, SWAT, pay a hefty price for the stars (especially Colin Farrell back when he was making consistent, event films), spend more money for pre-, production, and post-production, and then another $15 million or so (on average) on marketing. And then the movie flops, it's rushed onto DVD, and then slowly and quietly disappears from all memory. Does that make any fucking sense? To release an inferior product whose short- and long-tail both fail to impress? Whether or not a film a film is well-known enough or cherished enough to warrant a remake or adaptation, any studio that has any options on any outside product is quickly speeding up production to adapt it to the big screen (cases in point, the film "adaptations" of Stretch Armstrong, Ouija, Monopoly, Clue---yet another remake---Battleship, Candyland, Where's Waldo, and---somehow, in some way, for some reason--- Bazooka Joe. I am not making ANY of these up).
In the case of Twentieth Century Fox Studios, the remakes and reboots are efforts to retain the rights to their properties: reboots to the Daredevil and Fantastic Four franchises are in the works so as to prevent the rights to those characters from reverting back to Marvel (the X-Men Origins films are likewise attempts by the studio to retian their rights to the characters...however, Fox has major, MAJOR management and development issues that have resulted in horrible films for the past few years). So, in this case, remakes, reboots and sequels are released to ensure that rights to characters and storylines are retained. Is that a reason to make a film? By all acocunts, NO.
So what happens now? Here I am, for one, an exhausted filmmaker who is depressed with each new story about a remake, prequel, or batshit insane concept (Stretch Armstrong; Bazooka Joe) not for the childish reason that "it's raping my childhood" or some such bullshit that most fanboys on AICN whine about constantly, but simply because I've ideas for films that could be made cheaply, quickly, and could produce a respectable audience (Porn Fu practically sells itself and already has a small fanbase waiting for it to get made...too bad it can't garner the $1 million dollar it'll need....and that's a low estimate!) And I know that there are dozens of people I know, and thousands of people I don't, that have more elaborate, epic, and interesting ideas for films than I who, if they had even a quarter of the money spent on these remakes and bullshit prequels, could produce something unique and beautiful and personal.
I miss the personal touches to films, the feeling I'd get watching an early Scorsese film like Who's That Knocking At My Door or Mean Streets, a film that reads like an autobiography and which wasn't factory-made to meet a deadline or placate a fanbase. What happened to that type of filmmaking? What happened to those types of films? Films that would be made and released into theatres where they'd simmer for a few months and find its own audience? These days films are lucky to receive two months in a theatre before being sent in to be released on DVD. The turnaround is insane! The near two-year run of Titanic seems to be the last long-run release, and that was over twelve years ago! That is the highest-grossing film of all time, but if released now would remain in theatres for three months, thus cutting off its total gross by at least half.
The short-tail return, the first two weeks' gross after release, is the name of the game here. How the fuck did that happen? And why? It's hurting audiences, it's hurting theatres, it's hurting studios, and it's just going around and around in circles. Maybe this is the new trend in filmmaking, and if it is then it's something I for one have to get used to, otherwise I'm going to run into a whole heap of trouble.
All that being said, I just want Where The Wild Things Are, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, and Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World to be released already!
In slightly more personal news (but not much and not really):
My friend's father got me the name of an entertainment lawyer, as wel las the Volunteer Lawyers For The Arts, a firm of freelance entertainment lawyers. There is a $150 1-day crash course seminar on July 10th about fundraising and investing that I'll be attending not only for Porn Fu but also for a documentary I'm helping to produce (I might have to go to Mexico in August for it, but I'm hoping I won't have to do so).
Goodbye David Carradine (aged 72).
Sources:
http://www.joblo.com/commando-remake
http://www.joblo.com/scream-reboot-really
http://www.joblo.com/wheres-waldo-movie
http://www.joblo.com/barbarella-rising
http://hollywoodinsider.ew.com/2009/06/barbarella-robe.html
http://hollywoodinsider.ew.com/2009/06/scream-to-be-rebooted-as-a-trilogy-courteney-cox-and-david-arquette-in-discussions-to-return-.html
http://www.joblo.com/total-recall-remake
http://www.joblo.com/musical-valley-girl
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41295
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41279
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41210
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118004377.html?categoryid=13&cs=1
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41278
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19719/1/I-NEVER-THOUGHT-I-WOULD-REGRET-RODRIGUEZ-LEAVING-BARBARELLA/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19715/1/KURT-WIMMER-GETS-HIS-ASS-BACK-TO-MARS-FOR-TOTAL-RECALL-REMAKE/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19714/1/IF-YOU-BRING-BACK-THE-SAME-ACTORS-PLAYING-THE-SAME-CHARACTERS-IT039S-NOT-A-REBOOT/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19713/1/YEAH-THIS-ONE039S-A-BIT-OF-A-STRETCH/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19664/1/ALIEN-PREQUEL-INDEED-HAPPENING-WHEN-FOX-WINS-WE-LOSE/Page1.html
http://www.collider.com/2009/05/29/exclusive-tony-scott-confirms-carl-rinsch-is-directing-alien-and-its-a-prequel/
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19628/1/IN-SPACE-NO-ONE-CAN-HEAR-YOU-SCREAM-BECAUSE-THEY039RE-REMAKING-ALIEN/Page1.html
And so on and so on...
I understand that remakes have occurred throughout the history of cinema (what is The Magnificant Seven other than a remake to The Seven Samurai? What is The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly other than a remake to Yojimbo? Even Hitchcock remade his own movies: The Lodger, and The Man Who Knew Too Much for example), but usually there's a reasoning behind it. For Hitchcock, he wanted to improve on a film that he felt had potential yet was shot in a point in his career where he was still a novice; once he acquired all the skills he'd needed to be a master, he remade his film to perfect it. In regards to Magnificant Seven and Good, Bad..., it was a matter of transitioning a near-perfect story into popular genre so as to maximize its storytelling potential (Westerns were pretty much the rage in the 1960's when these remakes were released) as the originals might have been a challenge to more the conservative American audiences in the 1950's when they were originally released. And the remakes are just as highly regarded as the originals upon which they are based.
Can the same be said for the spate of remakes that have been released over the past five years? Let's name some: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, The Hills Have Eyes 2, Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth, The Stepford Wives, The Invasion, War Of The Worlds, The Omen, The Women, The Honeymooners, SWAT, 3:10 To Yuma, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I Dream Of Jeannie, Herbie: Fully Loaded, The Taking On Pelham 123, etc. etc. (these were the only ones I could think of without going through Amazon or IMDB, but merely using my own memory and experience). Of these films, how many of them were actually worth the experience of watching them (sure, Pelham isn't released yet, but do the trailers really look that interesting?) I would say, of that list, maybe two were worth watching (and, to a point, are at least comparable to the originals).
In an age of Blockbuster, Netflix, and Hulu, is it really necessary to remake (or "reboot" or "reimagine") films? Are these films even in need of being remade? Is a film like Alien or Predator or The Thing so bad and incoherent and unprofitable as to warrant being remade and improved upon? (The easy answer is "No, of course not. Don't be an idiot"). In an age where Wall-E is hailed as a technical and storytelling classic, it makes sense to remake Short Circuit, but it's still uneccesary (even with "Greg The Bunny" and "Robot Chicken" scribe Dan Milano writing). And when it comes to horror films, it seems common for a remake to appear every few years (hell, I thought the Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake wasn't that bad).
But why does it seems as if, of late, a remake is being announced every three to four days (and I'm not even pulling that rate out of my ass)? Well, the current troubled state of the economy is one factor; despite a stronger-than-expected first quarter for this year, theatre attendance is still down about 7-8% as compared to last year (the struggling economy is not the only factor, but also the proliferation of HD-quality home-theatre systems, and the ease at which one can rent or buy films or stream them online).
Audiences seem to know the films they're going to attend, and (especially in the summer) these films are tentpole features, event films, or movies that benefit from incentives such as 3D, IMAX, or digital projection. However, sometimes not even these are incentive enough for audiences (just observe the steep drop-off in the second week after the release of Watchmen back in March).
What to do with dwindling ticket sales and competition in the home-theatre market? Well...repackage old films with new stars, new directors, and similar (if not the exact same) stories, then release it into theatres.
That's all well and good, and I can understand why studios would want to repackage their films to new audiences. But I think it'd be vastly cheaper to release the originals in revival theatres or in an event-worthy DVD or Blu-Ray release. Imagine the amount of money spent to acquire the rights to a movie like, say, SWAT, pay a hefty price for the stars (especially Colin Farrell back when he was making consistent, event films), spend more money for pre-, production, and post-production, and then another $15 million or so (on average) on marketing. And then the movie flops, it's rushed onto DVD, and then slowly and quietly disappears from all memory. Does that make any fucking sense? To release an inferior product whose short- and long-tail both fail to impress? Whether or not a film a film is well-known enough or cherished enough to warrant a remake or adaptation, any studio that has any options on any outside product is quickly speeding up production to adapt it to the big screen (cases in point, the film "adaptations" of Stretch Armstrong, Ouija, Monopoly, Clue---yet another remake---Battleship, Candyland, Where's Waldo, and---somehow, in some way, for some reason--- Bazooka Joe. I am not making ANY of these up).
In the case of Twentieth Century Fox Studios, the remakes and reboots are efforts to retain the rights to their properties: reboots to the Daredevil and Fantastic Four franchises are in the works so as to prevent the rights to those characters from reverting back to Marvel (the X-Men Origins films are likewise attempts by the studio to retian their rights to the characters...however, Fox has major, MAJOR management and development issues that have resulted in horrible films for the past few years). So, in this case, remakes, reboots and sequels are released to ensure that rights to characters and storylines are retained. Is that a reason to make a film? By all acocunts, NO.
So what happens now? Here I am, for one, an exhausted filmmaker who is depressed with each new story about a remake, prequel, or batshit insane concept (Stretch Armstrong; Bazooka Joe) not for the childish reason that "it's raping my childhood" or some such bullshit that most fanboys on AICN whine about constantly, but simply because I've ideas for films that could be made cheaply, quickly, and could produce a respectable audience (Porn Fu practically sells itself and already has a small fanbase waiting for it to get made...too bad it can't garner the $1 million dollar it'll need....and that's a low estimate!) And I know that there are dozens of people I know, and thousands of people I don't, that have more elaborate, epic, and interesting ideas for films than I who, if they had even a quarter of the money spent on these remakes and bullshit prequels, could produce something unique and beautiful and personal.
I miss the personal touches to films, the feeling I'd get watching an early Scorsese film like Who's That Knocking At My Door or Mean Streets, a film that reads like an autobiography and which wasn't factory-made to meet a deadline or placate a fanbase. What happened to that type of filmmaking? What happened to those types of films? Films that would be made and released into theatres where they'd simmer for a few months and find its own audience? These days films are lucky to receive two months in a theatre before being sent in to be released on DVD. The turnaround is insane! The near two-year run of Titanic seems to be the last long-run release, and that was over twelve years ago! That is the highest-grossing film of all time, but if released now would remain in theatres for three months, thus cutting off its total gross by at least half.
The short-tail return, the first two weeks' gross after release, is the name of the game here. How the fuck did that happen? And why? It's hurting audiences, it's hurting theatres, it's hurting studios, and it's just going around and around in circles. Maybe this is the new trend in filmmaking, and if it is then it's something I for one have to get used to, otherwise I'm going to run into a whole heap of trouble.
All that being said, I just want Where The Wild Things Are, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, and Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World to be released already!
In slightly more personal news (but not much and not really):
My friend's father got me the name of an entertainment lawyer, as wel las the Volunteer Lawyers For The Arts, a firm of freelance entertainment lawyers. There is a $150 1-day crash course seminar on July 10th about fundraising and investing that I'll be attending not only for Porn Fu but also for a documentary I'm helping to produce (I might have to go to Mexico in August for it, but I'm hoping I won't have to do so).
Goodbye David Carradine (aged 72).
Sources:
http://www.joblo.com/commando-remake
http://www.joblo.com/scream-reboot-really
http://www.joblo.com/wheres-waldo-movie
http://www.joblo.com/barbarella-rising
http://hollywoodinsider.ew.com/2009/06/barbarella-robe.html
http://hollywoodinsider.ew.com/2009/06/scream-to-be-rebooted-as-a-trilogy-courteney-cox-and-david-arquette-in-discussions-to-return-.html
http://www.joblo.com/total-recall-remake
http://www.joblo.com/musical-valley-girl
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41295
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41279
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41210
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118004377.html?categoryid=13&cs=1
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/41278
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19719/1/I-NEVER-THOUGHT-I-WOULD-REGRET-RODRIGUEZ-LEAVING-BARBARELLA/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19715/1/KURT-WIMMER-GETS-HIS-ASS-BACK-TO-MARS-FOR-TOTAL-RECALL-REMAKE/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19714/1/IF-YOU-BRING-BACK-THE-SAME-ACTORS-PLAYING-THE-SAME-CHARACTERS-IT039S-NOT-A-REBOOT/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19713/1/YEAH-THIS-ONE039S-A-BIT-OF-A-STRETCH/Page1.html
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19664/1/ALIEN-PREQUEL-INDEED-HAPPENING-WHEN-FOX-WINS-WE-LOSE/Page1.html
http://www.collider.com/2009/05/29/exclusive-tony-scott-confirms-carl-rinsch-is-directing-alien-and-its-a-prequel/
http://chud.com/articles/articles/19628/1/IN-SPACE-NO-ONE-CAN-HEAR-YOU-SCREAM-BECAUSE-THEY039RE-REMAKING-ALIEN/Page1.html
And so on and so on...
Monday, June 1, 2009
Terminator Salvation
Terminator Salvation (2009)
This movie sucks.
I don't even want to put the trailer up.
I would leave it at that and let it slowly die into a painful memory, but I can't allow that. This is a movie I had promised myself I wouldn't see, but wound up seeing for the following reasons: 1. I had time to kill; 2. I had brain cells to kill; 3. I was visiting a friend and we wanted to see a movie we could make fun of; 4. As much as I love Star Trek, I think seeing it four times would be too much; and 5. the only other movie I would want to see now, Up, is one I'd like to see with the lady. But now that I've seen it, I have to talk about it and why it just fails.
Nothing about this movie intrigued me. The concept (John Connor, a relatively blithe character in the second Terminator film, and a relatively annoying character in Terminator 3) is now played with the usual brooding and screaming and sullen moroseness that is characteristic of Christian Bale's style of "serious" acting. Director McG drops the ball early on in the film, shifting the narrative focus from Sam Worthington's guilt-ridden tragic hero Marcus Wright to Bale's theatrical and scene-stealing (and not in a good way) John Connor.
The Connor portrayed in this film is waaayyyy too strong for someone who is 1. human and 2. the survivor of not one, but two previous attempts on his life. Nick Stahl's interpretation of the character (as a whiney, near-manic character) made more sense than Bale's unemotional, distant, nearly indestructible leader of the human resistance (for example, take the final battle between Connor and the T-800 in the terminator factory: Connor gets thrown through glass, into metal doors which wind up dented and destroyed, and burnt by the molten hands of the terminator; oh, and he gets impaled through the heart and still manages to survive. What is this? Die Hard 4?) I would expect that someone who had to fight off two terminators while just a teenager would have some issues....but nope. It's just a typical day for Mr. Connor.
Bale's insistance on augmenting Connor's role in the film is one of the many flaws this movie possesses. The original screen story had previously centered on Marcus Wright and Kyle Reese (as played by Anton Yelchin, who between this and Star Trek has an aptitude for mimicing popular sci-fi characters), and how their relationship grows (which would have been infinitely more interesting than watching Bale shout into a CB radio).
As per Devin Faraci's breakdown of the original script as compared to the finished film over on CHUD.com last week, the problems with the film began when Mr. Bale started to make Connor the main character and sidetracking the Wright and Reese characters. By doing that, the emotional investment in either character is diminished (and that, for me, was so apparent that I wound up not caring about anyone or anything that happened in the film). Connor, in the original draft, was not to be seen until the scene in the film, keeping him a mysterious figure in the story and making his reveal that much more dramatic. Instead, the opening scene features some aerial attack, and a helicopter landing on the exoskeleton of a terminator, which is then shot in the head by.... (*big dramatic reveal*) John Connor! Only we've seen that money shot in every single preview. And at this early point in the film, Connor has done nothing to garner such an "epic" shot. In fact, in the last film he was kept alive by a robot from the future just to ensure that he survives judgment day.
Marcus Wright (as played by Sam Worthington) would have fared a lot better had the movie focused solely on him. Perhaps his MO would have been more clear, but in this version he's just a convict donating his executed body to science in order to redeem himself for the death of his brother and two cops (though it's not clear that he killed them, just that he's responsible). We learn of this in the opening scene, as he's talking to a cancer-ridden Helena Bonham-Carter (wasted as talent, and giving woefully dreadful line readings. C'mon Ms. Carter! You're way better than that!). Clumsy dialogue aside (and this dialogue is Clumsy. That "So that's what death tastes like line" seemed so out of place I just felt like asking the character what the fuck he was talking about), this scene sets up the "shocking" reveal about Marcus later in the third act (surprise: he's a cyborg but doesn't know it. Too bad the second trailer ruined that reveal also) and gives him essentially all of his backstory. However, Worthington sells the character as best he could, putting his all into it and actually making me half-care about what happens to him.
Yelchin's Reese fares a lot better, as he was the most interesting character in the whole movie (and that remains even if you haven't seen the first terminator movie). While Yelchin is able to mimic original actor Michael Biehn's trait's, his character is the only one given anything resembling an arc (and even then it's cut off in the last act). And while it was obvious from the beginning of the movie that he would wind up safe and sound, there were still several moments where I wondered...nah. I'm kidding. I wasn't once thrilled or held in suspense over what was happening, but Yelchin sure was likeable (despite that stupid mute kid Star who does NOTHING but conveniently reveal pieces of equipment that the characters just so happen to need at the exact moment they need them. I was actually rooting for that kid to kick the bucket.)
The female characters are treated with even more disdain. Bryce Dallas Howard is absolutely wasted. Completely. She plays Connor's pregnant physician wife, despite the fact she does nothing with her skills and nothing is done with the fact that she's pregnant (hell, even a cliched, "this baby is the future of humanity bullshit" speech from Connor would have at least given the impression that he cares about her.) Instead she' background fodder, a pregnant woman waiting for her husband to return safe and sound she wouldn't have to become an active part of the story (and trust me, any doctor could have performed that open-heart surgery at the end of the movie. Nothing is even made of that: hell, make her the last person in the area with open-heart-surgery-skills. Something interesting, please!)
Moon Bloodgood. No comment. Despite the fact her character seems like she was rejected from the Charlie's Angels movies, she's absolutely beautiful despite the fact she's spent X number of years fighting robots. (and a nitpick: do you think in a future where humans are a relative endangered species that members of a tiny pocket of resistance would actually execute a woman for something like freeing a friendly cyborg?) Her character is supposed to be the Linda Hamilton of this film. The Sarah Connor of this film. Too bad Bloogood that Linda Hamilton's femininity was never viewed as being more important than her character. Sarah Connor was never a woman who happened to be a strong protaganist; she was a strong, bad-ass hero who just so happened to be a woman. And she got hurt, she bled, she made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. Just as we all do.
No one in this film, aside from Marcus (and even then in small instances) seems "human". There is no emotion. No humanity. There is nothing here for me to care about. McG can direct an action sequence in a competent manner (there is a single-shot sequence where Connor climbs into a helicopter, escapes a massive explosion, gets shot down by a terminator, crashes upside down, and climbs out that was impressive), but there's no emotion. The hunter/killer chase in the second act, where Marcus, Reese and Star try to outrun two motorbike terminators, wasn't thrilling at all because I'd just barely gotten to know any of the characters and didn't know which one to root for (Connor? Wright? Reese?) Without any emotional connection it's just a bunch of loud noises and explosions.
McG allowed himself to acquiese to Mr. Bale's insistence on making Connor the central character, and as a result the film suffers horribly: the script feels rushed and has too many plot holes to even list here (I'll try to add some at the end of this review); the characters are hollow and given little to no backstory, which makes them uninteresting; the action beats were uninteresting; the dialogue feels clumsy and forced; trademarks of the series just seem thrown in to remind the audience, "Hey! You're watching a terminator movie!"; and even the music seemed lazy and horrible (this is easily Danny Elfman's worst score)...hell, even the opening credits and two-minute long typed prologue were horrible. Nothing felt thrilling or exciting: not even the reveal of digital 1984-era Arnold Schwarzenegger at the end battle (yet another Terminator film ends in a battle in a factory).
If James Cameron were involved, he would have made at least a half-decent film that at least had characters I cared about and a plot (say what you want about his films, but Mr. Cameron always has fully-formed characters, even if their arcs are cliched as in Titanic). But he's divorced himself from the Terminator franchise, and maybe he's right to do so. To me, this series ended with Terminator 3 back in 2003, and I'm happy to let it end. Fuck this movie. It wasn't even worth making fun of, as it seemed to make fun of itself. I almost feel bad for the people who gave their all for this film...but they'll still have many other films to work on in the future. There are better man-versus-machine movies out there (hell, even the Matrix sequels does it better.) And why do these types of movies require an angry black man named Barnes (in this case played by Common)?
I don't even want to talk about the script, cinematography, or score here....I'm done...
Maybe I should have seen Star Trek for a fourth time...
Plot Holes:
1. No explanation given as to why SkyNet was rounding up only some humans, but killing others (the commercials make it clear that SkyNet was trying to replicate human flesh so as to send the T-800s back in time, but there was no mention of this in the film, nor of the time-travel technology).
2. Why would SkyNet have computer consoles and interfaces designed for use by humans if humans are to be wiped out?
3. Once SkyNet recognized Kyle Reese (something it does OVER and OVER again) why does it not just kill him? Without Kyle Reese, there is no John Connor, and without John Connor there is no resistance. Just (*bam*) one bullet to the head. No human resistance.
4. On a similar note, once SkyNet has both Connor AND Reese in its headquarters, why not KILL THEM both? They're in the CENTER of SkyNet (robot city), in the CENTER of a factory BUILDING robots, and they send one (1!) unarmed T-800. Why not send in 100 hunter/killer with guns built into them? I mean, they could just make more robots if they fail (which they can't because they have GUNS attached to them). Hell, blow up the whole building. More robots can be built.
5. Why would the characters allow Marcus to sacrifice himeslf to save Connor? There isn't ANYONE else willing to give up their heart to save the "prophesized" savior of humanity? I mean, a friendly cyborg would be great to have as a bodyguard for the savior of humanity. Not only that, but Marcus could infiltrate robot territory because he's recognized as one of them: he could run in and plant bombs for them, for Christ's sake!
6. How could Connor drive the motorcycle terminators? They don't have handlbars, brakes, or a seat. Right?
7. Why is NOTHING done with Bryce Dallas Howard? Or Helena Bonham-Carter aside from establishing that they're, respectively, pregnant and cancer-ridden?
8. Why the fuck is Star mute? Why make a character mute but not do anything with that trait? Why not write a scene where she was the only one who could warn someone of danger, or where she meets Connor and gives her first line, even a humorous (like in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest's Chief?)
9. Since when is the T-800 so indestuctible? It gets molten metal poured all over it but still manages to function perfectly.
10. Why would SkyNet put Marcus' control chip in a place where A. he somehow knows where it is and what it does, and B. in a location where he can so easily remove it?
11. How did Marcus get healed after infiltrating SkyNet and before receiving the expository monologue by digital Helena Bonham-Carter? And why was he healed? If he was designed to lure Connor to SkyNet (which is FUCKING STUPID...see #'s 3 and 4), then his mission is over. Why heal him up again?
Christ...that's 11 points too many for a film to overcome...sadly it doesn't. There are too many more holes to go on. I'm finished.
This movie sucks.
I don't even want to put the trailer up.
I would leave it at that and let it slowly die into a painful memory, but I can't allow that. This is a movie I had promised myself I wouldn't see, but wound up seeing for the following reasons: 1. I had time to kill; 2. I had brain cells to kill; 3. I was visiting a friend and we wanted to see a movie we could make fun of; 4. As much as I love Star Trek, I think seeing it four times would be too much; and 5. the only other movie I would want to see now, Up, is one I'd like to see with the lady. But now that I've seen it, I have to talk about it and why it just fails.
Nothing about this movie intrigued me. The concept (John Connor, a relatively blithe character in the second Terminator film, and a relatively annoying character in Terminator 3) is now played with the usual brooding and screaming and sullen moroseness that is characteristic of Christian Bale's style of "serious" acting. Director McG drops the ball early on in the film, shifting the narrative focus from Sam Worthington's guilt-ridden tragic hero Marcus Wright to Bale's theatrical and scene-stealing (and not in a good way) John Connor.
The Connor portrayed in this film is waaayyyy too strong for someone who is 1. human and 2. the survivor of not one, but two previous attempts on his life. Nick Stahl's interpretation of the character (as a whiney, near-manic character) made more sense than Bale's unemotional, distant, nearly indestructible leader of the human resistance (for example, take the final battle between Connor and the T-800 in the terminator factory: Connor gets thrown through glass, into metal doors which wind up dented and destroyed, and burnt by the molten hands of the terminator; oh, and he gets impaled through the heart and still manages to survive. What is this? Die Hard 4?) I would expect that someone who had to fight off two terminators while just a teenager would have some issues....but nope. It's just a typical day for Mr. Connor.
Bale's insistance on augmenting Connor's role in the film is one of the many flaws this movie possesses. The original screen story had previously centered on Marcus Wright and Kyle Reese (as played by Anton Yelchin, who between this and Star Trek has an aptitude for mimicing popular sci-fi characters), and how their relationship grows (which would have been infinitely more interesting than watching Bale shout into a CB radio).
As per Devin Faraci's breakdown of the original script as compared to the finished film over on CHUD.com last week, the problems with the film began when Mr. Bale started to make Connor the main character and sidetracking the Wright and Reese characters. By doing that, the emotional investment in either character is diminished (and that, for me, was so apparent that I wound up not caring about anyone or anything that happened in the film). Connor, in the original draft, was not to be seen until the scene in the film, keeping him a mysterious figure in the story and making his reveal that much more dramatic. Instead, the opening scene features some aerial attack, and a helicopter landing on the exoskeleton of a terminator, which is then shot in the head by.... (*big dramatic reveal*) John Connor! Only we've seen that money shot in every single preview. And at this early point in the film, Connor has done nothing to garner such an "epic" shot. In fact, in the last film he was kept alive by a robot from the future just to ensure that he survives judgment day.
Marcus Wright (as played by Sam Worthington) would have fared a lot better had the movie focused solely on him. Perhaps his MO would have been more clear, but in this version he's just a convict donating his executed body to science in order to redeem himself for the death of his brother and two cops (though it's not clear that he killed them, just that he's responsible). We learn of this in the opening scene, as he's talking to a cancer-ridden Helena Bonham-Carter (wasted as talent, and giving woefully dreadful line readings. C'mon Ms. Carter! You're way better than that!). Clumsy dialogue aside (and this dialogue is Clumsy. That "So that's what death tastes like line" seemed so out of place I just felt like asking the character what the fuck he was talking about), this scene sets up the "shocking" reveal about Marcus later in the third act (surprise: he's a cyborg but doesn't know it. Too bad the second trailer ruined that reveal also) and gives him essentially all of his backstory. However, Worthington sells the character as best he could, putting his all into it and actually making me half-care about what happens to him.
Yelchin's Reese fares a lot better, as he was the most interesting character in the whole movie (and that remains even if you haven't seen the first terminator movie). While Yelchin is able to mimic original actor Michael Biehn's trait's, his character is the only one given anything resembling an arc (and even then it's cut off in the last act). And while it was obvious from the beginning of the movie that he would wind up safe and sound, there were still several moments where I wondered...nah. I'm kidding. I wasn't once thrilled or held in suspense over what was happening, but Yelchin sure was likeable (despite that stupid mute kid Star who does NOTHING but conveniently reveal pieces of equipment that the characters just so happen to need at the exact moment they need them. I was actually rooting for that kid to kick the bucket.)
The female characters are treated with even more disdain. Bryce Dallas Howard is absolutely wasted. Completely. She plays Connor's pregnant physician wife, despite the fact she does nothing with her skills and nothing is done with the fact that she's pregnant (hell, even a cliched, "this baby is the future of humanity bullshit" speech from Connor would have at least given the impression that he cares about her.) Instead she' background fodder, a pregnant woman waiting for her husband to return safe and sound she wouldn't have to become an active part of the story (and trust me, any doctor could have performed that open-heart surgery at the end of the movie. Nothing is even made of that: hell, make her the last person in the area with open-heart-surgery-skills. Something interesting, please!)
Moon Bloodgood. No comment. Despite the fact her character seems like she was rejected from the Charlie's Angels movies, she's absolutely beautiful despite the fact she's spent X number of years fighting robots. (and a nitpick: do you think in a future where humans are a relative endangered species that members of a tiny pocket of resistance would actually execute a woman for something like freeing a friendly cyborg?) Her character is supposed to be the Linda Hamilton of this film. The Sarah Connor of this film. Too bad Bloogood that Linda Hamilton's femininity was never viewed as being more important than her character. Sarah Connor was never a woman who happened to be a strong protaganist; she was a strong, bad-ass hero who just so happened to be a woman. And she got hurt, she bled, she made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. Just as we all do.
No one in this film, aside from Marcus (and even then in small instances) seems "human". There is no emotion. No humanity. There is nothing here for me to care about. McG can direct an action sequence in a competent manner (there is a single-shot sequence where Connor climbs into a helicopter, escapes a massive explosion, gets shot down by a terminator, crashes upside down, and climbs out that was impressive), but there's no emotion. The hunter/killer chase in the second act, where Marcus, Reese and Star try to outrun two motorbike terminators, wasn't thrilling at all because I'd just barely gotten to know any of the characters and didn't know which one to root for (Connor? Wright? Reese?) Without any emotional connection it's just a bunch of loud noises and explosions.
McG allowed himself to acquiese to Mr. Bale's insistence on making Connor the central character, and as a result the film suffers horribly: the script feels rushed and has too many plot holes to even list here (I'll try to add some at the end of this review); the characters are hollow and given little to no backstory, which makes them uninteresting; the action beats were uninteresting; the dialogue feels clumsy and forced; trademarks of the series just seem thrown in to remind the audience, "Hey! You're watching a terminator movie!"; and even the music seemed lazy and horrible (this is easily Danny Elfman's worst score)...hell, even the opening credits and two-minute long typed prologue were horrible. Nothing felt thrilling or exciting: not even the reveal of digital 1984-era Arnold Schwarzenegger at the end battle (yet another Terminator film ends in a battle in a factory).
If James Cameron were involved, he would have made at least a half-decent film that at least had characters I cared about and a plot (say what you want about his films, but Mr. Cameron always has fully-formed characters, even if their arcs are cliched as in Titanic). But he's divorced himself from the Terminator franchise, and maybe he's right to do so. To me, this series ended with Terminator 3 back in 2003, and I'm happy to let it end. Fuck this movie. It wasn't even worth making fun of, as it seemed to make fun of itself. I almost feel bad for the people who gave their all for this film...but they'll still have many other films to work on in the future. There are better man-versus-machine movies out there (hell, even the Matrix sequels does it better.) And why do these types of movies require an angry black man named Barnes (in this case played by Common)?
I don't even want to talk about the script, cinematography, or score here....I'm done...
Maybe I should have seen Star Trek for a fourth time...
Plot Holes:
1. No explanation given as to why SkyNet was rounding up only some humans, but killing others (the commercials make it clear that SkyNet was trying to replicate human flesh so as to send the T-800s back in time, but there was no mention of this in the film, nor of the time-travel technology).
2. Why would SkyNet have computer consoles and interfaces designed for use by humans if humans are to be wiped out?
3. Once SkyNet recognized Kyle Reese (something it does OVER and OVER again) why does it not just kill him? Without Kyle Reese, there is no John Connor, and without John Connor there is no resistance. Just (*bam*) one bullet to the head. No human resistance.
4. On a similar note, once SkyNet has both Connor AND Reese in its headquarters, why not KILL THEM both? They're in the CENTER of SkyNet (robot city), in the CENTER of a factory BUILDING robots, and they send one (1!) unarmed T-800. Why not send in 100 hunter/killer with guns built into them? I mean, they could just make more robots if they fail (which they can't because they have GUNS attached to them). Hell, blow up the whole building. More robots can be built.
5. Why would the characters allow Marcus to sacrifice himeslf to save Connor? There isn't ANYONE else willing to give up their heart to save the "prophesized" savior of humanity? I mean, a friendly cyborg would be great to have as a bodyguard for the savior of humanity. Not only that, but Marcus could infiltrate robot territory because he's recognized as one of them: he could run in and plant bombs for them, for Christ's sake!
6. How could Connor drive the motorcycle terminators? They don't have handlbars, brakes, or a seat. Right?
7. Why is NOTHING done with Bryce Dallas Howard? Or Helena Bonham-Carter aside from establishing that they're, respectively, pregnant and cancer-ridden?
8. Why the fuck is Star mute? Why make a character mute but not do anything with that trait? Why not write a scene where she was the only one who could warn someone of danger, or where she meets Connor and gives her first line, even a humorous (like in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest's Chief?)
9. Since when is the T-800 so indestuctible? It gets molten metal poured all over it but still manages to function perfectly.
10. Why would SkyNet put Marcus' control chip in a place where A. he somehow knows where it is and what it does, and B. in a location where he can so easily remove it?
11. How did Marcus get healed after infiltrating SkyNet and before receiving the expository monologue by digital Helena Bonham-Carter? And why was he healed? If he was designed to lure Connor to SkyNet (which is FUCKING STUPID...see #'s 3 and 4), then his mission is over. Why heal him up again?
Christ...that's 11 points too many for a film to overcome...sadly it doesn't. There are too many more holes to go on. I'm finished.
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