Frank (Frank Langella) is a "retired" jewel thief, and getting old. By day, he sits around the house, getting up late and reading a book—that old, antiquated form of reading in the future. When he has half a mind to, he'll wander into town and visit the library, and flirt with librarian Jennifer (Susan Sarandon), and do a little light shop-lifting. At night, he indulges in some light lock-picking...a man has to have a hobby. But, living isolated, 30 years divorced with two grown kids with their own lives, he's solitary...and failing. It's tough for son Hunter (James Marsden) to keep an eye on him, so he gets Frank the latest thing...a robot caretaker (performed by Rachael Ma, voiced by Peter Sarsgaard*) to get Frank on a regulated schedule, cook him healthy meals, clean, and program some beneficial activities.
To Frank, the robot is one big rectal thermometer, and he spends the initial first few days trying to find a way to turn the thing off or, at least, a way to get under its metal skin (those lock-picks might come in handy!). Frank grouses, kvetches, protests and Robot (he never gets around to naming it) re-directs, gently persuades, all according to a program that looks for improvement, adjusts its approach and gently pushes. It is altogether clear that Robot is more capable of change than Frank. But, they're stuck with each other, in sickness and in health, until the old thief notices the precision and flexibility of the robot. Maybe they might be of some use to each other, after all.
It's a great idea for a story, and the capacity for old dogs and programs to learn new tricks. It might be a little too "out there" to make Frank a jewel thief, as the tale would be just as compelling, the interactions (the best part of the film) as interesting without it, but without that angle there wouldn't be much of a plot. And the movie falls flat in the same area most speculative movies fall flat, the sociological aspect. Oh, they get little technology details fine (there's one futuristic electric car, all the others are very contemporary) and the fashions are a little forward (but not hysterical ala The Hunger Games), but everything feels exactly the same as now. There are no details, beside the talk of "brain-centers" and the demise of the bound book, about what the effect of these mechanical man-servants on people's lives, or the plight of the mentally challenged in this world. This future does not look compelling, and after saying the film is set in "the near future," the idea is pretty much abandoned.**
But, that's the details. For the most part, Robot & Frankclanks along, with a nicely done performance by Langella, the central interaction between the titular characters being the heart, soul and well-greased gears of it.
* Sarsgaard's performance is in the same soft, reedy, solicitous manner that, I suppose, is de rigeur post-HAL 9000—Kevin Spacey did the same thing in Moon—but one wonders if one can do anything else with it, besides, of course, fussy butlers.
** I could also quibble about one relationship being a little too neatly tied together, but to say anything else would be spoiling things.
I should caution before you go any further that this review is full of spoilers.
To the Stars, Alice! (Zoom! Pow!)
or In Space, No One Should Hear You Voice-Over
or Ameliorating With Extreme Prejudice
Science Fiction is a fascinating genre. At its best, it is mind-expanding, forcing you to ponder the imponderable and think the unthinkable...to look at things in new ways and never see them again as you once did, or even think about why things are, and how they managed to get there in the first place...and why not another. That's "science fiction," the concept. It is rarely science fiction, the reality. As one of it's practitioners, Theodore Sturgeon, once opined "90% of science fiction is crap...but then, 90% of everything is crap." With the exception of science fiction movies, where the percentage is upwards of 95%.*And if you think I'm being too harsh, then consider one of the hallmarks of science fiction movies is The Planet of the Apes. Frankly, really good science fiction is above the heads of casual movie-goers—you throw two or three advanced concepts out of their comfort zone and it'll turn into a giggle-fest. In movies, a "successful" science fiction movie is, by and large, another reliable story or concept that is set in the future or in space. The familiar off-sets the strange and, as a bonus, keeps the familiar hidden in plain sight.
So, James Gray is a good director. His last movie, an adaptation of the daunting book The Lost City of Z was very good and too little seen. It was backed by Brad Pitt's Plan B company (and, at one point, Pitt was going to star). Whatever returns the movie made, Pitt is one of the folks behind Gray's new film Ad Astra—Latin for "To the Stars"—about an Earth in "the near future," at which time four things seem to be occurring: 1) Earth has expanded colonizing other planets; 2) we commercialize those colonies to the hilt—there's a Pioneer Hotel and Casino on the Moon, judging by the "Vegas Vic" neon sign**; 3) humans are spending an inordinate amount of time searching for intelligent life...with at least two major projects—an Earth-based antenna array that extends from the Earth's surface into space and a deep-space manned mission called the Lima Project sent to do exactly the same thing on the outer rim of the solar system***; and 4) the Earth is being buffeted by something called "The Surge" which acts like a high altitude nuclear weapon disrupting and shutting down power grids across the Earth...and the Moon.
It's that last one that gets the narrative ball rolling—Pitt plays astronaut Major Roy McBride, considered top-notch in his field because he's emotionally stable (despite being something of an space-"orphan"—more on that in a moment) who stays cool under any circumstance proven by the fact that his heart-rate has never risen above 80 BPM—not even when, during one of these "surge" events, he's knocked off the Earth-based antenna seeking extraterrestrial signals from space. He survives the high-altitude fall despite having his parachute slightly damaged on the way down and he's called on by U.S. Space Command (SpaceCom) to undertake a top secret mission.
It seems those "surge" blasts have been tracked originating from the planet Neptune. That particular planet is where The Lima Project, commanded by McBride's father, H. Clifford McBride (Tommy Lee Jones), was sent to search for E.T. signals at the outer reaches of the solar system. His father is considered dead, as nothing has been heard from the Lima probe for sixteen years, but, those surge blasts are coming from Neptune...and there's some techno-babble about it having to do with anti-matter, and the power source for Lima did have an element of anti-matter to it. They put "2" and "-2" together and came up with a Neptune-sized "0". McBride is asked to go to Mars, which has an underground facility not affected by the "surge" to relay a message to the Lima Project—and, hopefully, his father—to find out what the heck Dad is doing out there. If he truly is "Out There."
But, first, they have to go to the Moon. Commercial flights are available (on Virgin) and McBride is joined by an old colleague of his father's, Col. Pruitt (Donald Sutherland, sure, because he and Jones were in Space Cowboys together), who has been brought out of retirement to keep an eye on McBride and has his own ideas about what happened "out there." Seems the older McBride was upset that Pruitt quit SpaceCom, calling him "a traitor," and, given his father's nature, "a voyage of exploration can be used for escape. We think your father is hiding."
The trip to the Moon is uneventful, if still based on the rather wasteful first stage/second stage way of going into space now. The lunar colony is now a tourist destination, which Roy says—in his ever-present narration****—is "covered with drink stands and T-shirt vendors—just a recreation of what they were running away from on Earth—if my Dad saw this, he'd tear it all down." Well, he just might be doing that, sonny-boy. Better head for the next leg of the journey—from Moon to Mars. Trouble is, there's a little territoriality going on, Moon-side. Seems mining interests (maybe led by Sam Rockwell—or Rockwells) are in dispute, and there have been incidences of violence and theft by pirates. Pirates? On the Moon? Arrrr, I HATE those!
As goofy and entertaining as a rove-by shooting on the Moon is, it's just there to provide "an incident bump" so that something is happening besides watching ships move in a straight line and Pitt's constant navel-gazing (no, ladies, not literally). It is not necessary to the plot. It is not necessary at all. All it does is get rid of Pruitt's character and gives McBride an opportunity to know something that Pruitt is hiding about the mission, something that would have been revealed later, anyway. Grant the sequence this, though: it's staged like one of John Ford's "we've got company" Indian attacks (on the Moon!) and it does a marvelous job of recreating the hummocky lunar landscapes familiar from the Moon landings. If only they could fake it that well in the 1960's!
So, McBride gets to go on his trip to Mars to deliver the message to his father, and it's not a commercial flight, it's more like a trucker line—McBride refers to the astronauts as "long-haulers." They basically launch from the Moon base and then point themselves at the spot where Mars is going to be when they get there in 19 days. Fast trip. But, too long for a movie unless something happens along the way. The movie needs another "bump." So, they get a "May-Day" signal from a "bio-medical" facility called Vesta IX and decide to investigate. McBride puts up a protest that he is on a top-secret mission and the pilot cannot risk screwing it up. The pilot, says, sure, but this is a "May-Day" and he has to investigate, especially since he's not getting any return hails. McBride thinks it's stupid, but ultimately agrees, even volunteering to join the pilot when he notices the co-pilot is a bit reluctant to go (which brings up the "Captain Kirk" rule—the commander should stay on the ship and let the "red-shirts" handle it, but, no, not on this ship).
There, then begins the "Alien" episode, where McBride and the pilot split off on the Vesta, looking for the crew...bad idea, but, we're starting to get used to bad ideas on this trip...and this movie. I would like to be spoiler-free in this review, but I don't think Ad Astra is worth seeing, and, also, I can't resist using the phrase "Crazy-Killer-Baboons-From-Space." Yes. They go there. It was about this time I gave up on the movie (but stuck it out until the end).
But, one other thing about the sequence disturbed me—it's impossible. The transport is going in a straight-line (with gravity variants) to Mars (or where it will be in 19 days) and getting there pretty damn fast. Unless the Vesta facility is on the same trajectory going at the same speed, the pilot wouldn't be able to just "change course" like on "Star Trek" and sidle on over to the other ship—they don't have brakes in space, they would have to stop their momentum (which is a lot to ask) in order to rendezvous, and then, once they're done, restart the engines to regain that same speed to continue on to "where-Mars-will-be-in-19-days-plus-the-amount-of-time-wasted-on-the-'May-day' signal." This is "Star Wars"-science, meaning it's not science at all.
They make it to Mars, not easily—another "Surge" happens just as they're trying to land and McBride is welcomed to the underground Mars-base by its manager Helen Lantos (Ruth Negga), who escorts him to his destination, but she is dismissed by SpaceCom authorities as "not authorized at this level." He is escorted into a sound-proofed booth, handed a script and reads it—if you've forgotten because of the rove-by shootings and killer space baboons, that is that mission to read a message to his father, who might be alive near Neptune. McBride's script is "just the facts, ma'am" formal, and no reply is received after Roy reads it. Neptune does not respond.
But, Roy is freaking out. He spends a lot of time in "comfort-rooms" that project Earth-scenes on the walls and voice-overing about his father and him and their lack of relationship and how they're more alike than he might know and wonders what the long-form Lima Project might have done to "my Dad. Did it break him? Or was he already broken?" At that point, the H. Clifford McBride character starts to take on the mythos of Marlon Brando's Col. Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Old messages have messianic overtones and a devotion to the search for E.T.'s that slightly creep one out.
Next time, Roy goes in the booth to broadcast a signal, he goes off-script, appealing to his father directly, using personal details and ending with "Your loving son, Roy." He waits, and when there is more activity in the control room, he understand what it means "You heard from him, didn't you?" When he is not given an official reply to his questions, he starts to get angry. Now, it's personal and that's just what SpaceCom doesn't want. "Thank you, Major. For your service, we will return you to Earth. Your connection makes you unsuitable for the Mission."
Now, they tell him.
Roy's security clearance is revoked, and all he can do is go to a comfort room and stare at the fish. Then, Lantos makes a visit and asks "They never told you what happened to him out there, did they?" Well, no, they didn't, and it's surprising that she knows as she'd previously been told she was "not cleared at this level." Lantos reveals to McBride that her parents were also part of Lima and that his father killed everybody else on the project to quell an apparent mutiny—something Pruitt was aware of. She shows him a classified tape of the older McBride reporting the incident to Earth: "I'm disclosing a tragedy...I have killed the innocent and the guilty."
Then, she drops a bomb on him. The ship he came in on is being re-purposed with nuclear weapons to go out to Neptune and destroy Lima. All Roy can think about is that he has to get back on that ship and get to Neptune.
I've dropped so many spoilers, I'm not compounding any damage to say that he does. But, how he does it is eye-rollingly stupid, and once he gets there, things go downhill just as the ship is launching, because apparently there are no such things as G-forces during a launch. What then happens is a contrivance that just ensures that Roy is the only one to make the long, lonely trek to confront his Father and...as the SpaceCom boys say "ameliorate the situation."
And with that, the film plays out more for the sake of convenience than any sort of Big Theme about the nature of man or his place in the Universe, other than the notion that to be obsessed with life off the Earth and ignore it at home is crazy and crazy-making. What good is proving we're not alone in the Universe, when we're isolating ourselves on Earth?
Well, the quest for knowledge, for one thing. If human beings don't have all the answers, it would be nice to get a second opinion. But, the movie is too involved with self-involvement to ponder that. But, one should go into space with more goals than merely to solve "Daddy Issues."
So, (the movie says) astronauts are cold and distant...because their destinations are. And the farther we go, the more distant, physically and emotionally, they're going to become. Not a big revelation or a revolutionary statement. That's why there are no space-romance movies unless they throw out the physics book, and when they don't, you get creepy things like...Passengers (shudder). All you had to do was take a look at astronaut divorce statistics: all that training, all that time away from families...and that's for trips that took up to a week. With the ISIS and extended-stay missions, the toll on families must be enormous. The toll on families must be irrevocable.
But, James Gray obviously didn't know that. I've known it since Frank Poole's birthday party...and you know something? David Bowie and Elton John, who are not film-makers or involved in space-programs, knew it, too, some 40+ years ago. And it should be obvious—explorers do not make good partners...because they will not value others above their personal goals. They are selfish, self-involved, and frequently obsessed. They have a singular vision, and "singular" doesn't involve sharing. Gray's The Lost City of Z had that as a sub-text. Putting the story in space doesn't change the point. We're merely repeating ourselves somewhere else.
And that's not science fiction, not if we're trying to expand things, or think new thoughts. It's not much of anything, really. Ad Astra is a waste of time...and space.
* No, I haven't forgotten about 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick's "proverbial GOOD science fiction movie" ("You new here?"). In fact, I've written about it so often, that I avoid mentioning it whenever I can. It's part of the 10% that isn't crap, and actually achieves what I proposed as the mission of science fiction—"to go (boldly) where no mind has gone before." ** Someone should tell the director or art director or CGI-ist's that the Pioneer Club shut down in 1995 "in the near past" and became a souvenir shop. The sign remains in Vegas for nostalgic reasons. And because...Vegas. *** Neil deGrasse Tyson will have a field day with this one: why off of God's green Earth would you send a manned probe to search for messages from outer space to Neptune when those messages will arrive at Earth 4 hours and 2 minutes later? What's the hurry? If somebody wants to come up with some woo-woo explanation like "because of the Van Allen belts" I would reply...then set 'em up away from them on the Moon, dummy! Why go to Neptune...except to gin up false drama?
**** This continuous narration is annoying. Maybe it was a nod to Willard's narration in Apocalypse Now (which the movie resembles—I kept thinking over some of the montages "Space transit. Shi-iit. I'm still in Space transit"), but it's closer to the "hit-you-over-the- head" narration of the theater version of Blade Runner. It would have been a far gutsier—albeit riskier—move to just eliminate it, even if it left some of the audience in the lunar dust. Pitt's performance is internalized and well-done and one can tell that his McBride is dealing with a lack of engagement to counter-act his separation anxiety issues without having to tell us.. I'm not sure that the narration provides anything that Gray doesn't already provide visually and it feels like the voice-over was put in at the studio's insistence...due to cold corporate feet. I'm thinking there'll be a non-narration director's cut "in the near future."
The latest "Avengers" movie comes out on May first. For this month of Fridays before the premiere, we'll be re-running reviews of the movies that formed the stepping stones for this latest one, this time two outliers: the first, the subject of the fourth Marvel comic character adapted for the big screen (after a popular TV series in the 1980's) which failed to light up the box office, but whose appearance in the first "Avengers" film was considered the most successful version of the character; and another of Marvel's "major" characters, who had previously not captured the imagination of the movie-going public, but who really only hit his potential (and comic possibilities) in that same "Avengers" movie. What links these two characters is they are probably better as supporting characters than they are as the focus of a complete two hour narrative. Certainly, they were never better than they were in the first "Avengers" movie.
Hulk (2003)A director of many different genres, this is The Ang Lee superhero movie. Lee, fresh off Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (his tribute to wuxia martial arts films) went full Hollywood with Hulk, with an interesting cast (with less-than-interesting results, but I'm sure they all wanted to work with Lee) of Eric Bana (who can be terrific—but, alas, he's just not here), Jennifer Connelly (just not here), Josh Lucas (ditto), Sam Elliott (never less than interesting, even here) and Nick Nolte (so over-the-top crazy, that he's a bit of a relief). The problem here is tone: Bana described the set as being "ridiculously serious and morbid"—Lee wanted to avoid any sort of light-heartedness and went for superhero tragedy, with ten screenwriters (a lot of good ones, too) tackling the movie in various stages adapting the Hulk origin-revision "Monster" (Incredible Hulk #312, Oct. 1985) showing that the young Bruce Banner was a victim of child abuse from a brutal alcoholic father, setting the psychological stage for his latent reluctance to express emotion and his hidden rage.
That might have been good if Bana found a sympathetic way to portray it and gain some audience sympathy. The only time the movie takes off is when The Hulk appears (Ang Lee himself did the motion-capture work), and that's a bit too-little-too-late to keep the movie from seeming like the downer it is intended to be. Best thing about the movie: Lee's elaborate work with split-screen to simulate a comic book's fractured story-telling techniques.* The movie could have used more of that inventiveness, as well. The next Hulk movie would have a different cast and a different "take."
* It's a noble experiment, but frankly works at cross-purposes from the intent. The problem is split-screen does something other than what comic-book panels do: the graphics in comics separate action into different progressing time-frames; split-screen shows simultaneous action occurring in different spaces. One involves and transcends time; the other involves and transcends space.
The "Maybe-Not-So-Much-Incredible-But-Certainly-An-Improvement-Over-The-Last-Time" Hulk
Don't get me wrong. I admired what Ang Lee tried to bring to the, by now, here-to-stay "Superhero" sub-species (meta-species?) of action-adventure films. Taking his cue from Bryan Singer's "no, it's really about something" furrowed-brow approach to the "X-men," Lee (no relation to Smilin' Stan) made an examination of the rigors of the scientific mind, battling inner demons brought on by a repressed memory of child abuse, and made manifest in the form of a big green berserker id, The Hulk, equal parts Mr. Hyde and the Frankenstein monster.
Good thoughts. But we're talking The Incredible Hulk here. These films should take their cues from the "Superhero" epithets espoused by the characters, like Superman's affirmative "Up, Up and Away" or Batman's introspective "criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot" (these days he just says "Hrn."). "The Hulk" (in one of his incarnations) never got beyond "Hulk SMASH!" He's not the most sophisticated of heroes,* he's as pure a power-fantasy for nerds as can be—a three-year old with super-strength. So to pile on the daddy-complex psychology, when what people basically went to see was the Big Guy punch holes in things, was putting a lace doily on a trash-compactor. Lee had fun bringing back split-screen to simulate comic panels (which was nifty), but Hulk was depressing...and not in a good way, like the "Batman" films. If you want angst, best take it only as far as The Seven Samurai.
So, three years later, with "Marvel Studios" in control of (most of) their characters, and an eye towards creating an "Avengers" film in the future, comes a re-vamped "Hulk," with Ed Norton replacing Eric Bana, Liv Tyler for Jennifer Connelly, and William Hurt (made ruddy and silver-maned) for Sam Elliott. As good as those previous performers can be, the substitutions are all improvements. And this "Hulk," has no other agenda than to be a chase-and-fight film, and succeeds quite well in its humble goals.
Hulk's a little trimmer and hunkier than Hulkier.
Some Hulking thoughts:
The credit sequence re-writes the Hulk's origin-story (always a drag on these films, and is patterned after the TV-series), and gets going with Banner on the run. He's hiding in Brazil, working at a bottling plant in the densely populated box-city of "Rocinia Favela," in computer contact with a research scientist, and working on breathing disciplines to make sure he "don't go changin.'" It makes Banner a less helpless character than the last film, and gives him a goal.
This is not Eric Bana; this is Edward Norton
Norton's re-write of the script (by Zak Penn--who wrote the last two "X-men" films and Elektra and gets full script credit on the film), is clever, detailed, and plays to the actor's calculating strengths. Plus, his Bruce Banner is a sickly-thin, not buff, scientist—in good shape, but not super-hero material. Nice contrast with the uber-defined Hulk.
The cameos all work terrifically, are integrated well, and show obvious affection for their subjects: Stan Lee (though not a drooling fan of his, one has to admit this is his best cameo, and he's terrific in it), Lou Ferigno (he looks great!), and, in an "Aw!" moment, the late Bill Bixby. Plus, Robert Downey, Jr. makes an appearance as Tony Stark (Iron Man).
Tyler and Norton do wonders with the stormy (heh) Betty Ross-Bruce Banner romance. Connelly and Bana never seemed to connect in the first film, and seemed quite diffident to each other. Not here.
These are not Jennifer Connelly and Sam Elliott (They are Liv Tyler and William Hurt, and that's different)
Hulk does more than roar and punch. Here he is quite capable of using collateral damage as a defense and weaponry (and kudos to the sound design team for the police car sequence). There is one scene of Hulk being attacked by "sonic-blast" weaponry that is as enjoyably "comic-booky" as in any of these films. Tim Roth makes a very effective villain, green with envy for The Hulk's power, and the simple monster against monster plot is stream-lined and moves along while not feeling very draggy (as the battle sections of Iron Man did).
Director Louis Leterrier keeps the pace going, as one would expect of a director of the "Transporter" films, and there are extended chases through that Brazilian slum-town that recall the run-downs of the "Bourne" series and the parkour scenes of Casino Royale.
Leterrier also treats the Hulk like the shark in Jaws (or "Batman" in Batman Begins); we only get glimpses of him in the dark, as big pieces of machinery go hurtling through the air, placing the audience in the same disoriented mode as the "wet" squad sent to capture him.
Bruce Banner has a Blue Heeler like I do. How cool is that?
It made me happy, right? I enjoyed myself, right? So, why not as high a rating as, say, Indiana Jones? Because, as fun as it is, the effects scenes tend to look a bit shoddy on the big-screen. The Hulk, himself, looks a bit too much like one of those plasticene statues of "the Hulk" you see at comic-shops, and things like helicopter inserts have a video-game quality to them. Everything about it is fine, but I don't think the film will suffer on the small screen. You don't need to spend full-bore on The Incredible Hulk to get the most out of it. The decision is economical, rather than artistic, and for that, The Incredible Hulk goes down a notch.
"Hulk...SMAAAASH!"
* Face it, "The Incredible Hulk" is "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (in the comic book and the first film, the transformation is accidental, while in the TV series and this film, Banner does it to himself). And it's always creeped me out a bit that you could make a "hero" out of "Hyde." But combined with the "poor, poor monster" aspects of Frankenstein (Kirby's early flat-topped Hulk looked an awful lot like Karloff), and the TV series' driving it further, by using "The Fugitive's" running victim conceit, you could tame the brute.
"Thor Thubject (It's Hammerin' Time!)" or "Natalie Portman's Post-Oscar Slump, Part 2"
Never having been a fan of the comic, I could therefore approach the introduction of Thor to the movies without bias—I couldn't argue about the graphics on the hammer, or whether they followed the comics-mythology well, whether the casting was appropriate (they do well with what they got for material, and star Chris Hemsworth does a fine bellow just this side of Brian Blessed in his early, primal days). But, as a movie, there's nothing too fresh about Thor, in fact, it reminded me a lot of Superman II, but with better architecture (designed by the amazing Bo Welch) with its super-beings walking through a hick-burgh doing derring deeds (in this case, battling a Gort-like robot with a furnace grate for a face-plate—it's one of the genuinely cool things about this one), some dicey flying sequences that look a little flat and the big plot-holes in story-logic (if he could do that THEN, why couldn't he do it before?), and a little too much Unexplainium in how things happen and why.
By now, the Marvel films have become formulaic, let me count the ways: 1) love interest—which feels a bit tacked onto Thor (shouldn't there be an Asgardian demi-goddess he should be attached to?); 2) Stan Lee cameo (mercifully short); 3) cross-characterizations and Marvel Universe details (S.H.I.E.L.D. is back with Agent Coulson (Clark Gregg) and a post-credits sneak with Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury (which doesn't amount to much, as there aren't any other super-heroes in it, and seems bottled up as it involves Stellan SkarsgÃ¥rd's research scientist and Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston), Stark Industries is mentioned a couple times and there's an intriguing sneak peak of another Avenger in the film, (played by an Oscar nominee) and three action set-pieces that involve a lot of hammering, lots of ice-giants who all seem instantly shatterable and not much of a threat, despite some gratuitous growling (Colm Feore is pretty much unrecognizable as the King of the giants), and a lotta leaping with single bounds.
Kenneth Branagh directs with an emphasis on swoops over spires for 3-D effects, ornate throne rooms full of pixelated somethings or other, and a curious propensity for dutch angles (I don't believe there's such a thing as Norse angles). When Thor is at his most boastful, there is a tinge of Branagh's own Shakespearean projection, and Thor's brother Loki serves as an Iago-like presence throughout.
But, it ain't Shakespeare. The script wheels between the flat-nothing desert of New Mexico that seems to attract a lot of things falling from the Heavens (make that "The Seven Realms"—one of which is called "Anaheim") and the castles built on nothingness of the Asgardians, ruled over by Odin Allfather (played by Anthony Hopkins in his "elderly King" mode, although he has flashes of interestingness here and there). Natalie Portman tries her best with the romantic sub-plot, but it's a "nothing-girl-friend" role and her sections have a slight "blah-ness" to them, though they do try to punch it up with some wacky banter from a wacky intern (Kat Dennings). Thor feels like a second-rate Marvel movie, like the "Hulk" movies or the "Fantastic Four" films (but several steps above Howard the Duck*). Try as they might to make it relatable, the scale just fails to register as something that humans have any business being a part of...or even caring about. I found myself uninvolved and not caring. Thor might be a hit this weekend, but it's more of a myth.
* Ya know, I'm amazed that George Lucas hasn't done a CG overhaul of HTD. Yeah, it wouldn't make it any better, but at least it wouldn't look so clunky.
Update to the above: George Lucas isn't doing one, but evidently Marvel Studios is thinking about it —Howard showed up in Guardians of the Galaxy.
"I Really Don't Understand What All the Fuss is About" or "Is There a Point to All This, Because There Needs to be a Point!"
Marvel's Thor was a necessary part of The Avengers puzzle—the Norse God is a little minor-ish when compared to A-listers like "Spider-man" or "Captain America" (in the comic world, anyway, where the same "minor-league" status could be said for Iron Man) and is usually relegated to second row in group shots. That first movie was a bit "iffy" despite a Shakesperean director (Kenneth Branagh) and a rather breath-taking conceptualization of Vanaheim. It took Joss Whedon, though, to throw a couple of good lines into Thor's mouth (without him turning into a jokey punster) and making a grand villain out of Tom Hiddleston's Loki—so grand, in fact, that they brought him back for the second Thor movie,Thor: the Dark World. This film is part of the "Marvel: Phase Two," which I translate to "We take advantage of The Avengers success by trying to make hay on individual characters until The Avengers 2 comes along." Good strategy, that. But there's the danger of watering down any anticipation of that next film if they don't show some promise in the second installments, which already showed signs of rust in Iron Man 3. Even if you're Thor, lightning doesn't always strike twice in the same franchise.
Thor 2 (if we can call it that) is quite a bit lighter in tone than the first film, the first one being rather stuffy, as if any humor would possibly blow the Norse mythology segments away in a puff of whimsy. No, it was taking its playbook from Jackson's The Lord of the Rings trilogy where the heroes are rustic and the villains are really vile looking and the violence is over-the-top, but not so over the top as to risk an "R" rating.
In lieu of a program, clip and save this handy diagram of the Thor Universe
It also compares to TLOTR by sharing the propensity for using the first six minutes or so of the film to shoe-horn as much detailed exposition intoned with doomed gravitas as can be wedged in before the title card. "Long before the birth of Light," Anthony Hopkins' Odin informs us, "there was darkness. From the darkness, came the dark elves." That's quite a jump, but then, we have to find out about the Aether (everything in the Marvel Universe seems to be a common term spelled wrong), the Kursed on Svartalfheim, and the 5,000 year configuration of the nine Realms, at which point evil with a capital "E" can take out all nine of them without having to make it a bank-shot. Malekith (because everybody needs to have a name that sounds like a lisp) and who is played by an unrecognizable Christopher Eccleston* is the leader of the Dark Elves and wants the Aether all for himself, so that he can destroy the nine Realms because...well, I don't know why, it seems like a really dumb thing to do, akin to crapping where you eat. And at that point, I didn't care. I just wanted something familiar so that I could stand any chance of following the movie. Now, the last time I saw the Thor character, he was in The Avengers movie, and some mention is made here of "New York," especially by gal-pal Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), who uses it 1) as part of a "why didn't you write me for two years?" hectoring of Thor (Chris Hemsworth, not so stodgy this time) and 2) a chance to lash out at Loki (Hiddleston) as if he personally took out her favorite pizza cart on Fifth (and he gets a chance to do his version of the line from The Dark Knight: "[She's got some fight in her]. I like that."). Plus, Dr. Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgaard) has been acting strangely—making international news by stripping naked with some sort of stick-devices at Stonehenge that are supposed to do some sort of astral plane alignment or some sort of something, or maybe nothing as he's a bit of a raving lunatic at this point (His excuse: "I've had a God in my head. I don't recommend it" Geez, Doc have you watched TBN lately?).
Meantime, the already-mentioned Loki is imprisoned in As-Gitmo, where, when he isn't using his quick-change ability, he's sulking and throwing illusory daggers at people, babbling contradictory dialogue ("You know, I've always loved our little talks because...actually I haven't"). That's some trickster. As with Hensworth's Thor, Hiddleston's Loki actually had become an interesting character in The Avengers movie, and although he's still a little devil, you begin to think that his motivations, if not his brains, are a little scrambled. He does provide a couple of little quick-changes in a walk-and-talk out of Asgard, one of which might be considered a cameo appearance. He also provides the big "question mark" of the film, that is one of those things that the film-makers will either resolve, or, if they have bigger flounder to fry, will just dismiss with a line somewhere down the road.
Speaking of which, there could be considered three "stingers"—the convention of mid and post-credit "tags" in the Marvel super-hero films—in Thor: the Dark World, that have decreasing importance, but increasing complexity (how many of these things are they going to have, not that Brian Tyler's score isn't rather fun to listen to, but sometimes I have better things to do than watch all the credits). There is the "stinger" that ends the film, and confuses the issue of what was going on; there is the second "stinger," after Blur Studio's main credits, that serves as a preview for another Marvel production**—in this case, Guardians of the Galaxy with a look at Benicio del Toro's "Collector" (and we'll just say two words: "tonal shift"); finally, a third stinger at the very end of the movie that's purely for "shippers" and has an "after-thought" joke, much like the "shawarma" scene from The Avengers. There's nothing essential to wait for, if you have a ride waiting or a train to catch.
So, summing up, Thor: the Dark World is generally more entertaining than the last one, but not entertaining, realm-changing, or artistic enough to make it rise above the Rental category. Characters are born, characters die, and the Universe is returned to the same point it was at in the beginning of the movie, not unlike episodic TV. Nothing major is going to happen until somebody's contract runs out. In the meantime, it looks good, fulfills the action quotient, without going over the line (Hello,Man of Steel) to the point where you think it might be better not to have superheroes "saving the day" when they're destroying the infrastructure. It does suffers from the Marvel "I-don't-know-but-it-sure-is-big" syndrome, where there are no rules, and merely randomness in phenomena that just show up, make a big noise and then *poof* go away, leaving us to mull over our shawarma or bowl of "Shreddies." There is no order to the Marvel Universe (as much as the tick-tock clockwork of the art direction says there is), and it's easier to take a page from "The X-Files" and just leave it unexplained. Or come up with a convenient new super-power like "amnesia kiss" to take care of it. Sometimes, rather than thinking through a problem, it's just better to hit it with a hammer to make you think it's getting better.
"I've won an Oscar; why am I in this Moooo-viiiiie?"
** Although that's completely arbitrary, nothing is set in celluloid stone, and the solar wind is more stable than the tides of movie marketing—the cosmic villain Thanos appeared in The Avengers, may appear in Guardians of the Galaxy (he did) and definitely won't be in Avengers 2.
Now that that's done, one is worried about how to write about super-hero movies in the future. There is a sameness to them that creeps from film to film—the mythos, the "givens" of selfless good and illogical (and often impractical) evil, the unquestioning quest for revenge, the brooding sky-scapes, the heavy air of portent, and the elaborate CGI. One feels like they're in the process of grading different brands of chocolate. They may be bitter or sweet, but they're all chocolate. So, in the future, as the tent-poles of the franchise circus increase in number, we're going to do reviews of super-hero movies with a basic form—a Comic-Book Movie Matrix, that should distill what the movie's about, where it fits in its own little universe, and how successful it is—as a movie-movie, and maybe as a representative of that character. Take a look at the list, and if you have any suggestions for what might be a critical consideration, drop a comment. 1) Is the movie version of the character recognizable from the graphic/comics version? 2) Is the plot something that someone who doesn't know the comic can come in and still understand? 3) If not, how complicated is the back-story that is provided in the movie? 4) What's wrong this time, plot-wise? 5) Is the story important enough to deserve its own movie, or is this one just "marking time?" 6) In relation to 5): Major villain or minor villain? 7) Is the back-story and motivation the same as in the graphic/comics version? 8) How radically different is the setting of the movie version to the graphic/comics version? 9) What compromises have been made to the comics version to make it "play" on-screen?
10) Is there a "Noooooooo!" moment? Yes? No? 11) Any easter-eggs for the true fans? 12) Is there a stinger? Is it worth waiting for? Where does it occur?
Really, this is just to increase my Internet "hits" Jaimie Alexander as Sif in Thor: The Dark World
Future Tense: Past Imperfect
To Frank, the robot is one big rectal thermometer, and he spends the initial first few days trying to find a way to turn the thing off or, at least, a way to get under its metal skin (those lock-picks might come in handy!). Frank grouses, kvetches, protests and Robot (he never gets around to naming it) re-directs, gently persuades, all according to a program that looks for improvement, adjusts its approach and gently pushes. It is altogether clear that Robot is more capable of change than Frank. But, they're stuck with each other, in sickness and in health, until the old thief notices the precision and flexibility of the robot. Maybe they might be of some use to each other, after all.
It's a great idea for a story, and the capacity for old dogs and programs to learn new tricks. It might be a little too "out there" to make Frank a jewel thief, as the tale would be just as compelling, the interactions (the best part of the film) as interesting without it, but without that angle there wouldn't be much of a plot. And the movie falls flat in the same area most speculative movies fall flat, the sociological aspect. Oh, they get little technology details fine (there's one futuristic electric car, all the others are very contemporary) and the fashions are a little forward (but not hysterical ala The Hunger Games), but everything feels exactly the same as now. There are no details, beside the talk of "brain-centers" and the demise of the bound book, about what the effect of these mechanical man-servants on people's lives, or the plight of the mentally challenged in this world. This future does not look compelling, and after saying the film is set in "the near future," the idea is pretty much abandoned.**
But, that's the details. For the most part, Robot & Frank clanks along, with a nicely done performance by Langella, the central interaction between the titular characters being the heart, soul and well-greased gears of it.
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