Star Trek Into Darkness

Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) by J.J. Abrams

This film is awful.

It took 3 viewings to realize it without any doubt whatsoever, but this is an awful, awful movie. This is like Star Trek V level bad. This film is so bad it actually makes me a bit angry thinking about it, not Tron Legacy or Serenity levels of mad, but mad nonetheless. And that's something I've never felt watching a Star Trek film the first time out. In retrospect I learn to see the flaws in a Star Trek film (especially the Next Generation films), but I never have walked out of a theatre thinking "Jeez, that was awful". There is so much wrong with this movie that I'm afraid this is going to be quite a long one (me, over-analyze and write much more about a film than should be acceptable in any reasonable circumstance? No!) From the first scene it was clear that this was not only a film that ignored the intelligence of Star Trek fans, but also of the audience itself in general.

The film opens with Kirk (Chris Pine) and Bones (Karl Urban) on the run from primitive inhabitants on the planet Nibiru (which is actually the name of a "hidden" planet in our solar system, according to some conspiracy theorists...*sigh*), having stolen some artefact or some such thing. Simultaneously, Spock (Zachary Quinto) is deep inside a volcano on Nibiru, attempting to detonate a cold fusion device that would prevent the volcano from exploding and thus destroying the planet. For whatever reason, the transporters on the Enterprise can't beam Spock aboard, and Kirk orders the entire ship over to the volcano to do a line-of-sight transport of Spock aboard.

Kirk hides the Enterprise under water, mere meters away from a Nibiru village, in order to keep it hidden from the natives, but allows the natives to see it fucking rising from the water. Sadly, at this point, mere minutes into the movie, I was immediately taken out of the film.

Let's try to ignore, for a minute, the fact that the Enterprise would be unable to withstand the pressure of being underwater (and it'd have to be underwater pretty damn deep to cover the entire thing and keep its lights and whatever bubbles are produced from its nacelles and ports and whatnot from being visible. There is a line from an episode of Futurama where the Planet Express ship is dragged underwater: "The pressure's too great! We'll implode!" "How much pressure can the ship withstand?" "Well, it's a spaceship. So anywhere between zero and one." Star Trek is currently less logical than a cartoon comedy series.) Again, even if the ship could hide underwater, why would it be parked so close to a primitive village? It could have parked like eight miles out to sea, away from any land whatsoever, and still achieved its goal.

There is absolutely no reason for it to be submerged, aside from the admittedly cool shot of it rising from the water.

And that's something that I sensed throughout this film; events and actions occur not because it advances the plot or characters, or even make sense, but simply because they look "cool". The complications inherent with the plot (as well as the "mysterious" twist thrown in regarding one of the characters) also work to make the film appear much smarter and cleverer than it really is. At the end of the day, it's an exercise in futility, and makes the film and, ultimately, the characters that much more stupid. Sure, the fact that the ship is underwater neither adds nor takes away from the plot, but that is the point: events and scenes shouldn't be thrown in for no reason. They should advance the plot and story. And the problem is that with this film, nothing seems to occur for the sake of advancing whatever story there is.

I am going to spoil the entire movie, but seeing as it's been out for nearly 2 months, if you haven't seen it by now, it's safe to assume you aren't going to see it. So, it turns out that there is a "mysterious" figure named John Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch), an agent of Starfleet's secretive Section 33, and he's blown up an archives in London, as well as the meeting of several Starfleet admirals (including Kirk's mentor, Christopher Pike). Kirk and the crew track Harrison to Kronos, the Klingon home planet, and they arrest him to bring him back to Earth and answer for his crime.

In a twist that surprised no one, John Harrison is actually Khan Noonien Singh. He was found floating in his derelict frozen by Admiral Marcus (Peter Weller), who has secretly been building a massive starship, the subtly-named USS Vengeance, the first Federation starship built specifically for battle. Marcus, working on his own, has been blackmailing Khan by commandeering his crew and threatening to...start a war with the Klingons by bombarding their homeworld with special torpedoes that...house the frozen pods containing Khan's crew.

Or some shit like that.

Nothing in what could only be fleetingly called the plot makes sense. So, aside from the opening scene that doesn't make sense, there is section where Khan beams himself from Earth directly to Kronos, and there is a chase between Kirk and his away team, and several Klingon fighter-type vehicles, and they chase each other over and through pipes and tunnels and some industrial machinery, and then they land and go through some firefight and then Khan shows up in the nick of time and does some crazy kung-fu type fighting and just...surrenders. And that was all part of his plan. His plan was to get caught and reveal Admiral Marcus' plan.

However, the revelation of Khan's identity holds absolutely no weight. Nor does the scene later on, when the Vengeance disables the Enterprise, and it's falling into the Earth's atmosphere, and Kirk struggles to get the warp reactors realigned. First, he literally kicks it back into place. And, secondly, he dies. Normally that would be a source of deep emotional resonance: Kirk dies. He sacrifices himself for his crew, and Spock is there next to him, separated by a protective shielding, but unable to touch him, and Kirk is lamenting about how scared he is to die.

But his death isn't earned.

The emotions it is supposed to elicit are trite and shallow. Here in this instance we have known this incarnation of the crew for only one-and-a-half-films, separated by four years, and during their first adventure together they spent more time arguing with each other and trying to figure out how to work together for any real friendship to develop. Kirk is dying and scared, and we're supposed to feel sad because, hell, we're supposed to feel sad. I, for one, didn't genuinely feel sad. When Spock died in Wrath Of Khan it mattered: the friendship between Kirk and Spock had developed over the course of over 15 years by that point, spanning a television series, and one-and-a-half films. Khan, as a threat, was similarly looming and dangerous because of his appearance in the original series. In this film, when his identity is revealed to Kirk and company, no one bats an eye or even shrugs with a "Huh. Well, nice to meet you." He says that he is Khan, and then a few scenes later Spock calls up Spock Prime (Leonard Nimoy) and asks about Khan, and we are told that Khan is dangerous. Only then is he approached as a threat. This is a film that tells us so much about characters and motivations, but never allows a character to show us; there is a literal deus ex machina moment with Spock Prime explaining Khan's viciousness that it is almost insulting to not only the audience, but to the characters themselves.

Barring the nonsensical psuedo-science present herein (the aforementioned submersed Enterprise; Khan beaming himself literally halfway across the galaxy and then finding the main characters seemingly by random; the fact that the Vengeance, a massive vessel several times larger than the 1200+ meter long Enterprise, was built in secret and can for some reason be controlled by a single person; the fact that the Enterprise drops out of warp mere miles from the moon and then floats to Earth in a matter of minutes when in actuality it would take at least 60 hours; the fact that the Enterprise literally falls to Earth, as if someone dropped it, as opposed to it falling from a decaying orbit like it should...**sigh**), the drama of the film (and, by extension this new Star Trek universe) is ultimately hollow. Khan's blood has the ability to cure disease and bring people back from the dead; so, of course, a mere 10 minutes after Kirk dies he is brought back to life, thus undoing whatever emotion his death scene might have earned. People in this universe still have the ability to beam from one planet to the other, thus rendering the need for starships moot (especially miles-long starships that could be flown by one person!).

The first Star Trek reboot had plot holes and inconsistencies, but what it lacked in  solid plotting it made up for in sheer fun, spectacle, and charm. Each actor had their moment to shine in the film, and the chemistry was palpable. The core of each character was present, even if it was in a slightly ramped-up pace. Nothing in this sequel feels earned or real. If the first film placed emotions above plot, this sequel does the opposite, and does so at the expense of a solid story and earned sacrifices. It is as if this film is more concerned with throwing in as many references to the official canon as possible, and hoping that it would congeal into a coherent gripping story; but with no emotional connection to the characters, and without an ounce of earned emotion, it is all sound and fury. Kirk dies for nothing. Khan is thrown in for nothing. Alice Eve's Carol Marcus is thrown in for nothing. This is a film that is, ultimately, inconsequential. Even Michael Giacchino's score (a composer of whom I am a moderate fan) is forgettable.

JJ Abrams' "mystery box" method of filmmaking, while admirable, does him a horrible disservice here. Khan's presence adds nothing to the film. He'd be better off learning about the subtlety of a big twist from Iron Man 3.

Man Of Steel (2013)

Man Of Steel (2013) by Zack Snyder

Man Of Steel is sadly unbalanced, and that is in spite of its spectacle, which is exactly what Superman fans have been clamoring about since 2006's disappointing Superman Returns (which had its moments, mind you, in particular the airline rescue). There's a lot that this film does right in terms of making Superman a viable, interesting character in 2013 (it's been exactly 75 years since his first appearance, and he's been reinvented too many times over those years to boot). One of my favorite memories from when I lived in the Bronx (as a wee little one) was watching Richard Donner's original Superman: The Movie and being enthralled with the experience, getting what I can only describe as a warm, fuzzy feeling by the end of it. There is such charm and warmth to it, it's like wrapping yourself up in a warm blanket and eating cereal on a Saturday morning. Just earlier this week I revisited it with my girlfriend, who had vague memories of watching it, and by the end we were all smiles. 

There's something about that film, and about Superman in particular, that brings comfort and stability in an uncertain, sometimes petrifying world. 

Man Of Steel only hints at that wonder, which is a shame.

We know the story of Superman, his origins, his doomed world and what his journey to Earth meant not only to his birth parents, Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van (Russell Crowe and Ayalet Zurer, respectively), but to his adoptive parents Jonathan and Martha Kent (Kevin Costner and Diane Lane), and to humanity at large. As the opening scenes indicate, Kal-El's birth is an event in and of itself, as on Krypton the population is bred (essentially “grown” in pods that resemble the Matrix pods) for specific roles (politicians, soldiers, scientists, etc.). The natural birth of Kal-El is the catalyst of major civil disputes, with General Zod (Michael Shannon) attempting a coup, and eventually getting thwarted and banished (along with his private army) to the equivalent of the Phantom Zone, but not before Zod shoves a scythe into Jor-El's abdomen, all this occurring some time before Krypton explodes. This sequence, despite taking some liberties that neither take away nor add to the established Superman canon yet can be met with nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders, is one of the most purely imaginative sequences in any mainstream comic book film. Giant reptilian creatures graze on plains, and flying dragons are used by Kryptonians the way we would use cars (and there is a marked diversity in typography and architecture, some buildings built out of the grown, some hanging down from the ceiling of giant caves). These creatures and elements are glossed over, hinting at a larger world, and the fact that they are given little to no explanation makes them that much more interesting. They just exist, we see them for a few seconds, and then they're gone. In the first 20 minutes, Man Of Steel packs more sci-fi goodness than an entire feature-length version of the explicitly sci-fi Green Lantern. 

 

Belaying the standard origins story prevalent with rebooting a major franchise of one of the most recognizable characters in human history, Man Of Steel intercuts modern-day Clark Kent's (Henry Cavill) journey to find himself with scenes of his growing up in Smallville (which is never mentioned by name, merely by a water tower in the background) and trying to cope with his growing powers. The flashback sequences are touching enough (particularly a scene where a school-age Clark has a freak-out in the middle of elementary school because he can hear everything, and can see through people without any control and Martha arrives to talk sense into him).

Despite the big-budget spectacle in terms of action, it's the smaller moments in Man Of Steel that repeatedly gave me the most goosebumps. When Jonathan is explaining to Clark that he is from another world, and shows him his spaceship and says “Somewhere out there you have another father and another mother”, and posits that Clark's very existence will change the way humans react to concepts such as religion and our place in the universe and Clark's only response is to ask “Can't I just go on pretending I'm your son” and Jonathan says, simply, “You are my son.”, it's such a touching moment and one to which I'm sure any child feeling confused about their lives and identities could relate. Later on, when Superman has first tried on his suit and is first testing the limits of his powers and he's bounding and hopping around (much like he was capable of doing back in 1938, before it was established he could fly), there's such unbridled joy on his face. Here is a man enjoying, as any one of us would given the situation, the fact that he could fly. 

 

So often I'd wanted Man Of Steel to express that joy and optimism, to continue those small moments that peppered 1978's Superman (and while it is unfair to compare the two for so many reasons, at least the tone in Superman was consistent. Superman, as a character, embodies the absolute pinnacle of human potential, a standard to which humans are to aspire; if nothing else, Superman got that aspect of the character right. Superman is the ultimate optimist, being challenged but never giving in to fear and doubt). After an hour or so into Man Of Steel, once the plot falls into place and General Zod makes known his presence and demands to humanity, the film takes a decidedly dark turn and undoes the very essence of Superman in one of those most irresponsible, protracted, and yet awesome brawls yet seen in a comic-book film.

Zod, having tracked the warp signature from Kal-El's ship to Earth, lays an ultimatum to humanity: deliver Superman, or he'll kill everyone. Superman turns himself in, essentially announcing his existence by surrendering immediately. This is entirely in line with who Superman is: selfless and willing to sacrifice himself for his adoptive world. Having learned that the entire future of the Kryptonian race lays in Superman's DNA, Zod proceeds to attempt terra-forming Earth to turn it into Krypton, using two gigantic World Engines, placed on opposite sides of the planet, to do so. From an idealistic perspective, both Superman and Zod have the same goals: preserve the existence of Krypton, but their methods are entirely converse. Superman wants to preserve Krypton in a more archaeological sense by preserving the history and culture through interactive recordings sent with him by his parents, and in a crashed Kryptonian scout ship that is treated as an impromptu Fortress of Solitude. Zod wants to preserve Krypton by rebuilding it from the ground up, even if it means genocide. Humans are nothing more than pests, ultimately, nothing more than collateral damage.

And in this last point, both Zod and Superman are one and the same.

During the climax of the film, Superman goes up against Zod and his legion of Kryptonian soldiers. The battle starts small, in Smallville, before being taken to Metropolis, where one of the World Engines is laying waste to entire miles of the city. Superman goes all out against the other Kryptonians (who are also endowed with superhuman strength and abilities, but who can somehow master them in days rather than decades), destroying most of Smallville in the process. Once the action moves to Metropolis, destruction on an even greater scale takes place. Buildings collapse, entire blocks are laid decimated, and even single punches between Zod and Superman result in shock-waves that break windows and destroy entire blocks.

In essence, Superman destroys most of Metropolis and presumably kills just as many people as Zod and his World Engines. 

This aspect of the film, the wanton destruction and irresponsibility displayed by Superman is something not to be taken lightly. Sure, this is Superman's first foray into unleashing his powers, and presumably he has no conception of the extent of the damage he is capable of, but above everything else, Superman is a protector. That is his primary role.

If the previous movie incarnations of Superman got anything right (and yes, this includes Superman Returns), it is his primary role. And this makes not only for great cinema, but also for great characterization; when Superman is late saving Lois Lane during Superman, resulting in her death, there is such loss and anguish and pain in that loss. But why did she die? It wasn't because he was too busy punching bad guys to care, it was because he was out saving all of California. Even in Superman II where there is a protracted fight between Superman, Zod, Ursa, and Non within downtown Metropolis, there are multiple instances where Superman stops to save a busload of people, or to keep a truck from blowing up, and he attempts to at least move the battle to a place where there is no risk of civilians being hurt. In Man Of Steel, Superman gives one line in Smallville (“Get everyone inside. They'll be safe there”), waits for civilians to hide out in their houses and stores, and then proceeds to lay waste to the very houses and stores where people are hiding. There is very little regard to humans, and, in essence, very little of that protector role. Why would humanity trust Superman after all this wanton destruction? How can he be a protector? In the end, when he returns a destroyed Army drone that was tracking him...why would he think the Army would act otherwise? He just blew up a major city, of course they'll want to track and spy on him!

With all that out of the way, how is the actual film? 

 

Amy Adams is great as Lois Lane; for once Lois is an actual journalist following leads and gathering sources and she can fucking spell. And while the actual legitimacy of why Zod would have her kidnapped and brought to space are sketchy (in essence, she is a plot device, nothing more), she still seems like someone who can kick ass when she needs to, but who still lacks the attitude and spunk that Lois typically employs. Henry Cavill, who up until this film was an unknown (in typical “Superman-leading-man” style) owns this role. He is actually given material to work with, and is allowed to make the character his own (unlike poor Brandon Routh, who was forced to do a Christopher Reeve impersonation for his single outing), and it's his smaller, quieter moments that sell him in the role. And the guy is fucking cut; he looks the way Superman should look (at least in a Tim Sale/Jim Lee/Denn O'Neill interpretation of the character; all muscles on top of muscles). The guy doesn't have a single ounce of fat on him, and that is fucking impressive. And he doesn't look at all bad in the redesigned costume (and kudos for getting rid of the red underpants. It was time to get away from those). Laurence Fishburne as Perry White offers the sort of no-nonsense, gruff attitude that most leading correspondents and editors exhibit (this witness from first-hand experience). Michael Shannon offers up a version of Zod who is less psychotic and regal (no “Kneel before Zod”'s to be found here!), creating a menacing threat of a villain that actually has a goal in mind, and who can at least have his evil attributed to his upbringing: he was designed, from birth, to be Krypton's protector, no matter what. And the fact that the only way to stop him was for Superman to snap his neck makes him that much more of a force (and don't give me that “Superman doesn't kill” bullshit; yeah, it's true in a modern context, but prior to the Comic Authority's incorporation in the 1950s, superheroes in comics regularly killed. Even Batman's earliest appearances in Detective Comics shows him brandishing a gun and killing his adversaries, often with impunity. Even in Superman II, Superman threw Zod down a fucking crevasse, after de-powering him, breaking his hand and punching him in the gut). 

 

Hans Zimmer's score is hands-down on of his best. The new theme (“What Will You Do When You're Not Saving The World”) starts small and quiet, before building to a crescendo that does much to get me pumped (I tend to play it on loop whenever I go running). The bombastic, bass and drum-heavy score imparts a lot of weight and scope to the film, making an epic story that much more so epic. At times it threatens to overpower the smaller, quieter moments of the film, but it doesn't take away it either. 

 

Director Zack Snyder thankfully does away with his speed-ramping, and actually allows for some breathing room. While he seems to be the go-to comic-book action film guy, he has a surprisingly sure hand with the smaller character moments. I tend to place the emphasis on wanton destruction to his trigger happy need for spectacle, but at least he understands that a major film of this scope needs spectacle (and no, Superman throwing an island into space does not count). He overdoes it here, and hopefully in the sequel (which is thankfully greenlit) these issues are addressed, and the repercussions of Superman's wanton destruction is explored. Hopefully his role in the world, as both a threat and protector, is further explored as well.

This film makes major missteps in regard to Superman's role as a protector, and, yeah, there are some plot holes, but they didn't take away from the ultimate experience. And while the coda of the film neatly throws the Superman archetypes neatly in order (he's got the glasses; he works at the Daily Planet---despite having zero journalist credentials---and Metropolis is somehow rebuilt....unless LexCorp is responsible for the quick recovery, which would actually be cool), the journey to that moment is great. This film, while darker than any previous Superman film, is a necessary reintroduction to a world gone cynical and weary. 

 

Hopefully Superman will once again be considered what he was always intended to be: a symbol not only of hope, but of the human potential for good in the world.

Captain America: The First Avenger

Captain America: The First Avenger (2001) by Joe Johnston

There is a part in Joe Johnston's Captain America where Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) is performing onstage with a chorus line of star-spangled girls, dressed in the somewhat ridiculous red-white-and-blue garb of his soon-to-be trademark uniform, and I just started to chuckle. Not out of spite, not out of irony, not because the whole premise of a superhero singing and dancing punching out an actor portraying Hitler is utterly ridiculous, but simply out of the fact that it was so charming and fun that I'd almost forgotten how great it is to just have fun at a comic book film. This, and Matthew Vaughn's X-Men: First Class (why haven't I written my review for that one yet?!), are two of the better comic-book based films to come out in the past few years due simply to the fact that they are both returns to the good old-fashioned "let's just have a good time and make a fine, polished film" era of comic book film-making. Again, these aren't the best in terms of long-term appeal, or in accomplished film making, but they never lose track of creating a spectacle for the audience.

The film in question is the origin story of the star-spangled man, Captain America, AKA Steve Rogers, who starts off as a determined, idealistic 90-lb. weakling constantly being shut out of the chance of fighting the Nazis overseas due to his small stature. Seeing potential in his determination and character, scientist Dr. Abraham Eskrine (Stanley Tucci) hand-picks Rogers to be the first of the proposed "Super Soldier" program, meant to inspire Allied troops in the face of Nazi propaganda (an interesting concept: a superhero created as a propaganda ploy). Due to sabotage (planned primarily by Johann Schmidtt, AKA the Red Skull, played with a German accent worthy of Werner Herzog by the ever-great Hugo Weaving), Rogers is the only Super Soldier to see fruition, and his work as a USO stage-player leads to his eventual rescue of a group of captured infantry that would, in the comics, be known as the Howling Commandos. Rogers eventually faces his doppelganger, Red Skull, himself the result of Eskrine's super-soldier program, and the latter's attempt to shift the course of the war with sapce-age weapons powered by the Cosmic Cube (which is alluded to in 2011's other Marvel Studios release, the rather inferior Thor). That the Cosmic Cube plays into Marvel's Phase 1 series of films is a given, provided by the heft of weight placed upon it. The film ends with a preview of The Avengers, the tie-in film that finds all of Marvel Studios' characters united in a single film.

As a stand-alone film, Captain America serves a dual purpose: tying together most of the loose threads leading up to The Avengers, and introducing one of Marvel's top tier characters in a worthy feature film. However, the inclusion of the Cosmic Cube and its importance in the larger scheme of things sometimes feels a bit rushed, as if the studio is more concerned with throwing as much continuity into the film as possible in the lead up to The Avengers, as opposed to just letting the film develop naturally. And while director Joe Johnston is certainly guilty of allowing the bloating to occur (in fact, he's beholden to do so, if he wants to get paid), he still manages to create a fun film.

Again, "FUN" is the key component here. There are very few instances or standalone story lines that feature Captain America entering into dark, gritty territory, and thankfully this film doesn't adhere to the modern trend of superhero films fitting into "real world" scenarios. Captain America embodies all that is great and best not only of this country (which, honestly, needs an image boost), but of humanity in general. We need to be reminded that sometimes a hero can save lives, punch bad guys, throw jokes, and be just an overall good guy. Too cynical is the world in which we live, and that's sad. There are sequences in this film that remind me that, yes, Joss Whedon is a great writer (almost every line that Tommy Lee Jones says is golden,), and that Joe Johnston (who cut his teeth with Steven Spielberg on the Indiana Jones films) is a competent action director, if lacking any visual flair. Is this movie a classic? Not at all, nowhere near a classic. But it's fun, and that's more than I can ask for in an action superhero comic film. I'd never ask my mom to watch The Dark Knight, but she and my dad and I had a blast with this film. That in and of itself is an achievement.

Look, we live in dark times that are confusing, and sometimes even I get angry about all the shit going on around me. But it's wonderful and refreshing to go to a movie where we see people working together to fight a common evil, who are just outright good people, no matter what, and are willing to risk their lives for a greater cause. Is Captain America my favorite superhero film? No, that will always, ALWAYS be relegated to Superman: The Movie, but for a Marvel Studios film that just has a great vibe, solid cast, and a lot of fun? Well, it kind of takes the cake in that regard.

A Good Day To Die Hard (2013) by John Moore

It had been quite a fucking while there, no?

By all accounts, it is unfair of me to review this movie because I only saw about an hour of it. I couldn't stand to see the rest, and this is only one of two films I've ever walked out on, and the first during which I'd actually fallen asleep. From its loud, obnoxious, confusing, insipid and uninspired action, to its massive plot holes and droll, unhappy characters, I couldn't stand this film and was happy when my date turned to me, eyes sad and depressed, and sad, "Can we please leave? This film is depressing".  And that is a massive, MASSIVE shame, because, despite all the negative reviews I'd read regarding this film, I still wanted to at least enjoy it on the same level as I had the previous entry, 2007's ridiculous Live Free Or Die Hard, which, while a "Die Hard" film in name only, remains my "start of summer" fun movie. I can honestly enjoy it for what it is, despite the fact that it is a bad, idiotic film. This latest entry though? It's just...sad. It exists and simply remains there, loud and obnoxious and telling us that this is what "Die Hard" is about and, God damn it all, it is anything but.
The plot, so far as there was one, involves a character who happens to be named John McClane, played by Bruce Willis, who played a more interesting character of the same name from 1988 through 1995, and his trip to Russia to rescue his son, Jack (played with a wasted determination by Jai Courtney) who is implicated in the attempted assassination of a Russian politician (played by Sebastian Koch? I honestly don't know. There's only so much movie one can pay attention to in between naps). There are apparently double- and triple-crosses, and victims are really villains, and ultimately all paths lead to Chernobyl. For some reason.
There is such lifeless banality to John McClane this time around that the entire film is a lifeless, joyless affair that, unlike Live Free..., is so un-fun it ruined the entire film and for me made me even question the notion of "fun" as a concept. Plot holes trip over themselves in a vain attempt to escape the confines of celluloid, such that what I am about to write in the exact next sentence is something that actually happened: so John McClane finds out his son is arrested in Russia, and his cop friend hacks some Russian files so John can study them; McClane, on a plane headed to Moscow, studies the Russian ploice files on his son. Close-ups indicate that, yes, they are indeed in Russian. The exact next scene finds McClane in the back of a Russian taxi, using am English-to-Russian dictionary to direct the cab to the courthouse. In the only instance where John McClane resembles anything like a human being, McClane flubs his translation. Here's the point: on the plane, McClane's reading the Russian file on his son like it ain't no thang, but in the cab he can't even say that he wants to go to the courthouse. Can the motherfucker speak Russian, or can't he? Please, be consistent with me movie. Be honest. If Live Free... can make me believe that McClane can fly a helicopter despite the fact that flying is one of his mortal fears, I will accept that the man can at least speak Russian...if you can at least meet me halfway. 
Immediately following this scene is a shootout in the courthouse, followed by one of the most confusing, overdrawn chase sequences since the entirety of Quantum Of Solace. McClane, having literally randomly run into his son as Jack is trying to escape with an informant he is to protect, leaps into a flatbed truck and, knowing nothing about any of the proceedings or why his son is being chased by who, rams his vehicle into oncoming traffic, eventually slamming the truck head-on into parked cars, where it flips over, completely destroyed.
John McClane climbs out and walks off like absolutely nothing happened, gets back into another car, and continues as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on. 
It is around this scene that I started to pass out. And that's the biggest shame of it all; in the middle of a "Die Hard" movie, with elaborate set pieces, and which is shorter in length than any of the other four films, I was bored out of my mind.
As I've stated before, I can enjoy a big dumb movie so long as it's consistent with it's gaps in logic and it's leaps in believability, and so long as it is earnest and fun. This is a dark (not tonally, just in terms of lighting), empty, soulless, sad affair, a film made simply to keep the rights to a character and name that rightly had no place being the fuck in the middle of Russia (or Chernobyl, for that fact...a location the characters actually go without ANY RADIOACTIVE PROTECTION WHATSOEVER).
Gone are the days of slow character development and cleverness, where the pacing pushes the story in such a palpable, concrete way it is almost a character of its own (for example, the slow build up in the first Die Hard film, establishing McClane's fear of heights, lack of shoes, indecision when it comes to saving Takagi...this is all slow build up, leading to an establishment of character. We get to know these people, and take the time to know not only their strengths, but their fears and weaknesses as well. By the end of the first film (hell, by the middle of the second act of the first film), McClane is beaten, bloodied beyond compare, walking on sliced up feet, exhausted, and almost defeated entirely. Here, in this film, there's an unstoppable thing called "John McClane", who seems to come alive only when he's killing bad guys and firing guns and surviving insane car crashes and making limp puns over the deafening sound of gunfire with too much bass. Here there is a film who's mid-act stunt involves jumping out of a window to avoid a helicopter gunfire, whose climax is set in MOTHERFUCKING CHERNOBYL, and whose main character comes away with less physical bodily damage than in his last film, in which he surfed an F18 jet before shooting a bullet through his already-shot shoulder. Here is a John McClane who has evolved, fully, into the very action caricature that he was the absolute antithesis of in 1988.
And therein lies the irony. At least Sylvester Stallone had the good sense to ground the last Rambo film with some sense of realism (make Rambo part of a team; address his age, address the previous films while developing off of them; have some Goddamn PACING, sure, 2008's Rambo was essentially a two-act film, but it didn't try to shove in some familial issues or sappy romance or confusing action). For a Die Hard film, this movie has more in common with XXX or Abduction or any other cheap action flick.
The cinematography is beyond confusing, the script (by The A-Team's Skip Woods) has such lapses in logic and coherence as well as a complete disregard for everything that made the previous entries fun that it's difficult to tell if the film is even trying to be serious (the entire climax takes place in Chrenobyl...where there was a giant fucking radioactive meltdown? And John and Jack run around with absolutely no protection whatsoever? And the audience is reminded at least 3 times throughout the film about what the fuck Chernobyl is, because apparently a major global event from the past 30 years is inconsequential?)
The Die Hard series is done, it's gone. With the last film it lost its sense of realism and depth, and with this film it lost its sense of fun. The quips are gone, none of the characters are real people (or even the exaggerated, broad-strokes "character types" that most modern action films tend to exhibit). Perhaps this is the modern state of action films now. Perhaps this is what we demand of our heroes: unstoppable, inconsequential, all-knowing, indestructible, and ultimately boring. 
So perhaps the Die Hard series is dead.
It had its run, it's finished.
Let's just leave it be and move on, shall we?