65

Saturday, here, is traditionally "Take Out the Trash" Day; it doesn't matter if it's old trash or new trash. It's still trash.

Nice Planet to Visit...But I Wouldn't Want to Live There

or

Stuck Between a Rock (Falling) and a Tar Pit

 

65 ("from the writers of A Quiet Place") is a good idea for a movie. But a bad movie. Oh, it does its job efficiently, providing the beats we've come to expect, the tropes, all of the recycled cliches—of the horror, sci-fi, and reluctant guardian variety—even a couple of Spielberg call-backs (as tribute, or just because they're "expected" in a dino-movie?) 

 

But, it never becomes inspired. It never does anything newish. It has that initial bright shining idea bulb that gets progressively duller until it finally fizzles out and then, at the tail-end, re-iterates the premise to remind us that it was a good idea. But, by that time, even that good idea has become hum-drum and (dare I say it?) pedestrian.

 

Which is too bad, because it's got Adam Driver in it, and he's doing something new.

 

And he's the only one who is.

It is 65 million years ago, "titles" tell us."Prior to the advent of man...in the infinity of space...other civilizations explored the heavens." Good premise (if the inclusion of "man" being merely us sounds a little speciest...and sexist). It's a long time ago in a galaxy far, far way. Commander Mills (Driver) is spending time with his nuclear family on their planet as he's about to go on a mission—that will last two years—ferrying an exploratory group to some far-flung part of the Universe. It's not a mission he wants to undertake, but he's doing it for economic reasons. His daughter (Chloe Coleman) is very sick and his wages will pay for her medical expenses. But, he'll be gone for years (if all goes well), and he's spending as much time with his family as he can before he leaves.

Note to self: plan your route.

Well, there wouldn't be a movie if it all went well, and Driver's ship gets caught in an unexpected asteroid field en route, which batters his ship and forces an emergency landing on a planet that just happens to be in the neighborhood—amazingly fortuitous when your commuter route is in light-years. The ship breaks up, killing the vast majority of his passengers (save one, but that's for later) and his command section is miles away from where the "escape pod" with any sort of rocket thrust has landed. He puts out a distress signal, checks the air, and does some recon of his camping site.

You know the drill—it's described in the movie's posters. He's on Earth of 65 million years ago, during the Cretaceous period—if you don't know the particulars, that puts you in the same boat as him. Let's just say that things are a little rough, what with tar-pits and hot-springs, the sometimes unexpected explosive geysers, quick-sand, bad bugs and badder lizard-things, including trex's. All very hungry, as if they haven't been fed in weeks. The movie goes by the dramatic rule of "Chekhov's Gun"—if you see something in the movie, it's assured that it's going to be used (which is fine and all, but it eliminates any anticipation of surprise. One could bring a score-card, write down one sees and then just check them off as they're utilized for drama.

Not exactly watching each others' backs!

 

That includes all the dangerous flora and fauna of Olde Earth, but also Mills' sick daughter, and the charge that he takes on—the lone crash survivor named Koa (Ariana Greenblatt), who (of course) reminds Mills of his own daughter, and forms a grumpy "you watch my back/I'll watch yours" relationship, despite their speaking different languages and the traditional old guy/punk kid relationship that is tried and true to the "reluctant family" story-line of so many films. But, they're the only game in town; that's certainly what the dino's see them as—game, I mean.

But, at least it gives Adam Driver a chance to morph out of his "geek" role that we've grown accustomed to and into a more-standard somewhat grudging pater-familias along the lines of the Alan Ladds and latter roles of the John Waynes and Clint Eastwoods, trying to survive while also dragging a kid along to make him a more charitable protagonist. It's the "Lone Wolf and Cub" trope among the dinosaurs, and that's an elevator pitch that can be done within half a floor. Maybe even before the door closes.

All this is to reinforce that 65 is nothing new and nothing that hasn't been seen before in different packages—just not done as well. I was thinking that even a dumb movie like Robinson Crusoe on Mars, although short on science and long on special effects that depend on the viewer's charity, is still entertaining and intriguing, whether your a kid at a matinee (as I was when I saw it) or an oldster (as I am now) who can still find it charming. 65 is not charming. Nor is it innovative in any sense. The only sense of wonder it instills is you wonder if the film-makers could milk the same water-downed formula until there is no nutritional value whatsoever.