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Terminator Salvation (Movie Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on May 21, 2009.

Terminator Salvation

I have fond memories of Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Even though Iron Man has recently supplanted it as the film by which I measure summer blockbusters, it is without question one of the best movies I have ever seen. This isn’t the place to explain why (perhaps I’ll review T2 retrospectively one day), but I must confess that I went into Terminator Salvation with amorous thoughts of Judgment Day in my head. Mainly, I hoped that Salvation would do for the post-apocalypse what Judgment Day did for the pre-apocalypse, and that the series would be on the same level again after the slight dip in quality resulting from 2003′s Rise of the Machines. Unfortunately, this is far from the case. If Rise of the Machines got the snowball rolling, then Salvation has turned it into an avalanche.

Salvation takes place in the year 2018, some 15 years after Judgment Day. The machines have completely taken over, and decided to redecorate Earth (or at least the western seaboard) by shrouding the landscape in dirt, dust, and grey decaying ruins. The human population has been decimated by the change in management, and as such are unable to protest the machines aesthetic desires. What’s left of humanity is looking to John Connor (Christian Bale) and a handful of stuffy warmongers hiding in a submarine for primary colours and salvation. A discrete frequency used to control all machines may hold the key necessary for the humans to win the war, and humanity is looking to Connor and a mysterious cyborg (Sam Worthington) for liberation.

It’s not the most inspired plot ever, but this isn’t my main problem. My frustration with Terminator Salvation is with its disinterest in the story it tells. Questions about humanity and ethics are prominently raised and then unabashedly left dangling in the wind the very next scene. The moments in the previews where an android in human skin is chained over a pit and interrogated by John Connor is the exact subject matter I was praying this film would deal with. The fact that no one on the narrative side of Salvation made any attempt at exploring these matters is rather reprehensible. Why bother including nods to such material if you’re only going to do so on sufferance? There’s nothing wrong with Salvation being a gritty high-octane action flick, especially when it is very effective in being such a film, but don’t tease the audience with matters you have absolutely no intention on exploring.

To be fair, Sam Worthington’s “machine with the human condition/man made of metal” is a key element of Salvation, but the character isexplained and not explored. Marcus Wright was a man on death row who donated his body to SkyNet, and you can probably figure out the rest. Thanks, McG, since I often have trouble being fascinated by enigmatic and mysterious characters. Marcus is a textbook example of a character that everyone involved is better off knowing nothing about, yet the film feels obliged to turn him into something dishwater dull from minute one.

Since I’m on the stupid character sketch tangent, let’s talk about Kate Brewster, post-apocalyptic sweetheart/wife of John Connor. She was first introduced in 2003′s Rise of the Machines as Connor’s (very vocal) future wife which neither she nor Connor would accept. In Salvation, she’s a meek and soft-spoken physician who is also pregnant, but that last bit doesn’t seem to matter that much. Part of this could just be the superfluous darkness and grit which means there are only a few scenes where you can actually tell that Kate is indeed pregnant, but still the question must be made of what the point of it all is. Pregnancy in the post apocalyptic world would likely be a big deal, especially when it’s the child of a prophesized resistance leader of all people. This is the type of plot point that demands exploration, or at the very least some attention.

In general the characters are very poorly handled across the board. There’s hardly any dialogue for one thing. John Connor communicates either through whispers or through various volumes of yelling, and this seems to be a common theme with the actor’s action roles. Much like in The Dark Knight, it doesn’t take very long for Bale’s growls and snarls to become exhausting and then laughable. The only likable person, aside from the botched Marcus Wright, is Blair Williams, which is a stark contrast to the actress’ grating turn in the Street Fighter debacle from a few months ago. She’s the only character that actually embarks on a path somewhat resembling a development arc, which should be a quest primarily designated for the protagonist. Sadly, the only path Connor wants to tread is the one strewn with bullet casings and machine scraps.

Depending on your tolerance for mechanical mayhem, you may appreciate the fact that Terminator Salvation mostly occupies itself with guns and explosions and not petty pop philosophy. Action amounts for at least three quarters of the film’s running time, and it’s quite impressive when it isn’t straying dangerously close to the line of tedium. The sequence where Marcus chauffeurs a young Kyle Reese and his little friend on a massive death truck stands out as being grand and exciting, even though it unfortunately decides to compare itself to the similar iconic sequence in 1991′s Judgment Day. Actually, many action scenes are modelled a little too closely on scenes from past movies which gives the feeling that Salvation isn’t breaking any new ground. Certainly the aforementioned death truck evolves into something that might rightly be considered epic, but the final game of cat and mouse between Connor and a T-800 (a.k.a the Schwarzenegger model) isn’t trying anything new and drags on for far too long.

Speaking of The Governator, Schwarzenegger does indeed make a show-stopping appearance of sorts. His likeness was grafted to a T-800 that tries to kill John Connor in the SkyNet labs through computer effects wizardry, but its novelty is tragically short-lived as it doesn’t take very long for Connor to burn away the flesh to reveal yet another boring and generic machine. Linda Hamilton also lends her voice as the deceased Sarah Connor who left behind a collection of audio tapes to help baby her son through the future, though frankly I would’ve preferred it if she just narrated the film’s prologue and epilogue instead. These inclusions are a bit gimmicky, but entertaining for what they’re worth.

Considering the franchise’s pedigree, Terminator Salvation had a lot to live up. It’s certainly more action heavy and explosive than the other films in the series and you’ll be delighted if that’s all you expect. However the complete abandonment of a good story and strong characterization coupled with an ending that shamelessly begs for a sequel ultimately prevents myself from mentioning this film in the same breath as Judgment Day.

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Taken (Movie Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on February 4, 2009.

Taken

Liam Neeson is unstoppable in Taken, perhaps even a bit too badass for the story to handle. He darts around Paris busting up prostitution rings, mowing down enough people to populate a small village during every violent encounter. He hardly ever takes a hit, and when he does it might as well be on sufferance. The only characterization Liam Neeson has outside of searching for his daughter is that he could very well be human, but I remain unconvinced because the human form cannot contain such volumes of testosterone, scotch, and awesome. He never sweats, for one thing. The tendency for modern films to dip their action protagonists in vegetable oil and Sprite to have their actors beam enticingly in flickering incandescent lights is strangely absent. There may even be a minor clause in Liam Neeson’s contract stating that he can never bleed.

The plot of Taken is embarrassingly straightforward: Liam Neeson is a somewhat overprotective father who lets his daughter run off to Europe with her slutty best friend so they can follow U2 around on tour. As the two arrive in Paris, a crew of Albanian’s break into their penthouse suite and abduct the girls as slaves for their prostitution ring. The reasoning for this business strategy is solid gold: It’s cheaper to just kidnap them when they’re already in the country than it is to import them from the States. Luckily for Neeson though, premium merchandise is kept separate from promiscuous garbage in most sex rings, so while the slutty friend pays the price for bring unable to keep her legs together, Neeson’s daughter fetches a high price and lucrative customers for keeping her chastity belt on. This buys him time as the rich and famous empty their international bank accounts.

As far as no-nonsense action flicks go, Taken is one of the better ones in recent memory. Depth is cut in favour of frequent efficient fisticuffs, and it works. Liam Neeson kicks ass at a construction site, at a fancy shindig, on a boat, etc. and never does he suffer any significant physical damage. This might confuse the average viewer who is used to seeing their protagonist get momentarily bitched around before ultimately and inevitably triumphing, but this would be more incongruous than anything else. Liam Neeson is a professional (albeit recently retired) killer who is taking on hoards of largely incompetent henchmen who were rejected from all the other crime syndicates for supreme idiocy and possessing the firearm accuracy of a blind stormtrooper. The only reason the action feels a bit iffy is because the odds are unfair, not because it’s inherently preposterous (although it momentarily can be).

A compromise has been made regarding the screenplay though. Luc Besson, responsible for writing throngs of obscure French cinema and The Transporter series, misses ample opportunities for tongue-and-cheek one liners a la Die Hard or Lethal Weapon. Lord only knows why, but apparently a screenwriter is only totally serious and legitimate if they treat comedy as second rate entertainment. A lighter tinge would’ve done wonders to mollify Neeson’s somewhat sadistic demeanour, and if nothing else it would’ve turned the film into something raucously entertaining. It’s a sorely missed golden opportunity, especially when the cinematography sets it up all so well.

Taken is entertaining but ultimately lacking, which is characteristic of virtually everything Besson is attached to. Unfortunately, the writing is far too melodramatic to mix well with the excellent action and cinematography. Nonetheless, the film is a considerably short ninety minutes which means you won’t be able to stay mad at it for too long. If you consider yourself an action connoisseur, you’ll enjoy this brisk and brief adventure in retribution. It’s just a shame there’s not a whole hell of a lot for anyone else.

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Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li (Movie Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on March 4, 2009.

Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li

Nerds like to think they’re making headway in the film industry, especially since the comic book adaptation genre has finally “come of age” in July 2008 thanks to The Dark Knight. While that may be so (even if I personally still don’t agree), video game adaptations still have a long way to go, as Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li aptly demonstrates.

I’m not even sure where to being describing the plot. Exposition is of the “have characters converse disengagingly for a bit, splice in a cityscape/action scene, rinse and repeat until end credits” variety. The overreaching story arc follows Chun-Li’s (Kristin Kreuk) quest to rid Bangkok of crime, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Chun-Li is a San Franciscan born aspiring concert pianist who moved to Hong Kong with her family. Her daddy was taken away by Bison’s (Neal McDonough) crime syndicate because he finds his strong international connections useful, and that’s really the only hiccup in her otherwise picturesque childhood. Years later, Chun-Li becomes an accomplished concert pianist with no connection to any sort of street fighting or martial art whatsoever, let alone a connection to Bangkok of all places. After receiving a mysterious scroll at the end of a performance, she has it deciphered and learns that she is to head to Bangkok where a mysterious man named Gen is to draft her as a sort of freedom fighter against local crime and poverty.

Chun-Li’s motivation for heading to Bangkok in the first place is beyond my understanding, which is largely a result of the brief ~90 minute run time that does not offer sufficient room for one story to grow, let alone three. The “Chun-Li heads to Bangkok to get revenge on Bison for kidnapping her father” thread might not be the most original plot in the world, but it’s still solid ground for a decent movie. Instead of sticking to the core story and running with it, Interpol/Bangkok Homicide has to have their own fat slice of exposition pie, and of course we need to figure out what makes Bison so gosh darn evil in the first place. As a replacement for one focused and coherent albeit slightly insipid plot, we have three muddy and sloppy stories that are definitely insipid.

But who goes to a film about Street Fighting for story-time anyway? People want to know if the film kicks any measure of ass, and indeed it sort of does, even if it’s hampered by the production’s own profound technical ineptitude. Fight scenes are good in the same manner that people compliment Paul W.S Anderson’s gunplay because it’s his crappy movie’s only consolation. While it’s entertaining to see characters flip around each other menacingly, the lighting is often so dim that what you see is often just a blur of hair and clothing flickering through shadows. Characters also have a terrible habit of uttering terrible one-liners at senseless times. “I’m just getting started!” quips Chun-Li after handing Vega’s ass to him before the camera cuts and the fight scene ends. Is the film only half finished? It’s almost like a bizarro tie-in where the film is rushed to meet the video games target released date instead of the other way around.

What about the die-hards though? Will they be pleased by the film? I’ve only played Street Fighter II way back on the SNES some 16 years ago, so I only recognized Chun-Li, Bison, and Vega as characters from the franchise. The rest of the main characters are all strange figures who try to fit in to the world but don’t resonate with me at all. Even the iconic costumes are gone, which may heighten real world credibility, but severely diminishes the nostalgic factor. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li isn’t a total disaster, but it does fail to register on any significant level. Not only did I not like, I did not dislike strong enough, which leaves it squarely in the cinematic purgatory of cheap adaptations and B-Movies. Street Fighter is straight to DVD dross with a theatrical release. Nothing more, nothing less.

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State of Play (Movie Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on April 24, 2009.

State of Play

Fans of BBC television series’ have a justified right to be afraid of American adaptations of their intellectual properties, whether it be on the silver or the small screen. After all, I largely find that the Brits have an exceptional eye for detail and a sense of pride with most of their products while Americans are content to just take flashy titles and a half dozen soundbytes and churn out a comparatively inferior product (compare and contrast an episode of Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares [British] vs. Kitchen Nightmares [American] if you need proof). State of Play is an American screen adaptation of a British television serial and might cause some discomfort for fans of the film’s progenitor. But thanks to a well-crafted story and a certain British star, the film dually manages to maintain the lustre of its source, and pique outside interest in it.

State of Play follows the staff and investigative reporters at the Washington Globe newspaper as they pursue a story centring on a hotshot United States congressman (Ben Affleck) and a young member of his staff named Sonia Baker (Maria Thayer) who had recently died under strange circumstances. The congressmen’s situation in the ensuing media firestorm is made stickier by the his connections with PointCorp., a military company interested in privatizing the country’s security for massive profits that he may or may not be involved with. Cal McAffrey (Russell Crowe) is an old hand at the Post who is leading his paper’s investigation, and he reluctantly teams up with a recently hired naïve and spunky web-writer named Della Frye (Rachel McAdams) to get the job done.

What immediately makes State of Play stand out from the crowd is its pedigree. Apparently, the film is adapted from a BBC television series that I’ve had no idea existed prior to this film and will not pretend to be familiar with for the sake of this review (beyond a Wikipedia search). What matters is that the original series was well received critically and therefore means that the film has a glossy reputation to live up to, albeit indirectly. Next to that connection which many probably won’t concern themselves with is the cast, and by that I mean Helen Mirren as Editor Cameron Lynne for the Washington Globe. Helen Mirren is excellent, and it’s unfortunate that the filmmakers don’t quite understand this because the greatest sin State of Play commits is underwriting her character. Rachel McAdams and Russell Crowe are great fits for idealistic yet inexperienced and cynical yet veteran writers respectively, and it truly is refreshing to see Jason Bateman play a character that isn’t a mere transplantation of Michael Bluth, but it all becomes irrelevant the moment you successfully commission Helen Mirren to appear on screen, even it’s only for 25% of the running time.

Sadly, despite an excellent cast and an engaging script, there are two major flaws that mar an otherwise great bit of intellectual entertainment. The first and more evident stumble is the casting of Ben Affleck as Rep. Stephen Collins. While it’s clear that Affleck has the sort of image the filmmakers were looking for, the sort that immediately resonates “young go-getting rising star politician,” it eventually becomes rather plastic and quite tiresome. The character could’ve worked and indeed he is very central to the plot, but scaling back his screen time and painting him as a more inscrutable and enigmatic politician would’ve not only made his appearances more tolerable, but also given the other main characters more time to evolve and manoeuvre.

The second major fault is far more tragic because it happens just as the film is wrapping up, which means that discussing it ultimately amounts to revealing spoilers. Without giving too much away, the ending is essentially an exercise in having just one plot twist too many. It’s like a sports team advancing on an open goal with seconds left on the clock, and instead of keeping with the play that would certainly guarantee them an easy point and sure victory, they decide to change it up at the last minute and end up damn near blowing it altogether. The final scenes don’t ruin the film, and in fact some people might enjoy the relentless deception (these being the people with the memory of a goldfish who probably forget the slight immediately after it’s occurred), but it effectively turns the film on its head and marches in a direction that hasn’t seriously been alluded to otherwise. Alas, this is the nature of the dramatic thriller, and criticizing a mystery for being mysterious is hardly a sound complaint.

Though when the dust settles, State of Play is a cut above the rest of its ilk, if only because of the talent carrying it. While it does occasionally feel a bit bland and listless thanks to the heavy dialogue that serves more to drive the plot rather than develop the characters, it’s fortunate that the one exceptional strength is strong enough to carry the other struggling elements. An extra twenty minutes to flesh everything out would’ve not only been necessary; it would’ve been welcome.

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Role Models (Movie Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on November 12, 2008.

Role Models

To be a successful comedy in this day and age requires a few key things. First, there’s the obligatory romantic drama that has to resolve if it’s a central aspect of the film from minute one, or magically develops and resolves itself because these clichés have to be crow-barred in somewhere. Next, there’s the minor character (or group of minor characters) whose sole existence in life is to play comic foil until the plot demands they magically say or do something profoundly resonant within the confines of the closing act. Also, every character has to learn something before the credits roll, which usually entails a generic moral such as “I’m willing to compromise for the sake of our bastard love” or “titties are only small aspect of life (and your torso )” or some other twisting of epicurean philosophy for the illusion of happiness and closure. And finally, the comedy must have “heart”… whatever that means.

If “Role Models” were an occupation, it would be a clown who knows his job all too well and has frankly become rather bored with his place in the universe. It’s a master of predictable romantic drama, comic timing and morals, but it succeeds without even trying so while it feels a tad derivative, you’ll never be chastised for saying so. The common criticism sure to emerge is that the affair seems “heartless,” but like I said earlier, what the hell does that even mean? Do you really believe that the movie isn’t functional because they threw it out before it had time to don a coat of cocaine gloss that makes everything seem sentimental all of a sudden? While I’ll admit you can’t objectively measure the multitude of adjectives people often use to describe films (yet), “heart” is the most obscure concoction yet.

“Role Models” tells the story of two men who work in the marketing department of an energy drink company. While on the job, one of the two picks a particularly bad time for an existential crisis and ends up committing a few traffic crimes that result in them having to serve 150 hours of community service as big brothers for the socially damaged. The misanthrope (Paul Rudd) gets paired with a colossal nerd (McLov… sorry… Christopher Mintz-Plasse) and the man child (Seann William Scott) gets paired with an aggressively foulmouthed ten year old (Bobb’e J Thompson).

Not exactly the most unique idea for a comedy, but the relationships are so disparate, volatile, and [most importantly] plausible, that it’s virtually impossible for anyone to not squeeze some excellent jokes out of the premise. Astonishingly, the film is also well paced with an ideal run time, so while it could rightly be perceived as merely mimicking tried and true formulas, the results are all but scientifically guaranteed to work.

Although this is the rare occasion where being a bit insipid plays to the overall strength of the final product, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s insipid. I’m not going to say something stupid like “‘Role Models’ doesn’t have the heart to be the sort of endearing comedy…” because that would mean I buy into that sort of crap. While character depth and development often make a movie that can stand up to the scrutiny of multiple viewings, sometimes all you want is a quick no strings attached dalliance, and Role Models fits the bill quite nicely. It’ll hardly be worth a second watch and there’s no point in buying the DVD, but when it comes to harmless temporary novelties in the maelstrom of dramatic Oscar bait, you could do a lot worse.