Review: Green Lantern

Well. I guess I feel kind of stupid.

I should have seen the warning signs. Certainly it seems like everyone else that I know saw them. Everyone telling me how bad Green Lantern looked, how silly and cartoonish the effects were, how garish the design of the film was and so on. But I still had hope. Being a fan of the comics, I thought that there was a chance the film would stand out from other recent superhero films, perhaps bringing a touch of intergalactic scope to a typically Earthbound genre. With such a diverse cast of alien characters as the Green Lantern Corps, with such a detailed (if indeed silly) mythology, with an actor as charismatic as Ryan Reynolds and a director who, in the past, has done great work (Casino Royale and Goldeneye), there was enough there to get my hopes up for a fun summer blockbuster, one that could kick off not only a new franchise, but do for D.C. Extended Universe on film what Marvel has been so successful at doing with theirs.

And somewhere, it all fell apart.

I don’t know where to begin pointing out the finger of blame for this movie, because almost nothing works. From casting to editing, from the script to the action, the movie fails in most every aspect. Let’s start with the plot. At the beginning we are introduced to the mythology of the Green Lantern Corps, an intergalactic peace-keeping force that utilizes green rings in order to harness the emerald energy of willpower (I know, I know). The Corps were once threatened by an entity of Fear known as Parallax, but were successful in trapping him for millennia. Due to a series of circumstances Parallax break out, ready to wreak havoc on the galaxy. After this we are introduced to Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds). He’s a cocky wiseguy, the type that has been Reynold’s bread and butter for some time. We see him in action as a test pilot, flying against computerized drones and, because he’s a totally unorthodox, badass rebel dude, we see him pull off a totally crazy move just to prove that he’s the best. Basically he’s Maverick from Top Gun. He has a really poorly defined relationship with Carol (Blake Lively), who is in charge of the company that makes the aircraft and is one of the best pilots alive and was once Hal’s girlfriend, I guess. After Hal’s reckless stunt, and after a pointless side-trip to visit Hal’s family (who are then never heard from again), Hal is chosen by the ring of Abin Sur, the greatest member of the Green Lantern Corps, whose ship has crash landed on Earth after being badly wounded by Parallax. Hal then travels to Oa (the Green Lantern’s home base) to learn about being a Green Lantern, which he does in a choppy training montage and then immediately decides he doesn’t want the responsibility. Why? Cause, uh, that’s what normally happens in these superhero movies, I guess. He then returns to Earth (for some reason he gets to keep the ring though) and proceeds to mope around. Meanwhile, Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard) is recruited to examine Abin Sur’s body, which brings him into contact with Parallax, transforming the creepy scientist into a telekinetic with a hideous, bulging forehead. With Parallax himself fast approaching Earth, can Hal find it in himself to overcome fear, take his rightful place amongst the Corps and save everyone he loves?

So the plot is your standard superhero origin story. Those have been done to death in recent years, but there’s no reason that it couldn’t be fresh if the characters are ones that we care about and if the central conflict is compelling. Unfortunately this film is missing a few critical parts necessary to even make it a fun ride on a par with something like this summer’s Thor (which comes out smelling like roses when compared to this joyless tale). First of all is casting. While Ryan Reynolds seemed like a good idea at the outset, and could probably be a decent Hal Jordan in some other iteration of this film, here he seems miscast. It’s clear that this Hal Jordan is supposed to resemble Tony Stark, with his quick wit and charisma. However, Green Lantern’s creative team seems to have completely missed what made Tony Stark a compelling character; Robert Downey Jr. brought boatloads of snarky charm to the role, but the first Iron Man gave Stark a believable arc from self-absorbed jerk to selfless hero, taking pains to show the audience how his experiences in becoming Iron Man profoundly affected him and propelled him towards change. Reynolds is never given any material like that, so he tries to compensate by alternately moping about and whining about fear or cracking tedious (and likely improvised) jokes. It’s a little sad, seeing a talented actor trying desperately to salvage a role through his own charisma and still failing. Blake Lively is unmemorable as Carol Ferris; she doesn’t exactly embarrass herself, but hers is the standard “all-capable female heroine who becomes useless in the face of danger and must await her knight in shining (green) armor to save her.” Peter Sarsgaard has garnered some praise for his bizarre turn as Hector Hammond and he does manage to make his character at least memorably repulsive, mumbling his lines and generally acting like a guy who Chris Hansen would like to sit and have a nice talk with. The absolute best performance in the film comes from Mark Strong, under makeup and digital work, as Sinestro. As a Green Lantern who is skeptical of Jordan’s place as the first human Lantern, he brings a touch of authority and gravitas to a film that desperately needed it.

The performances aren’t the worst of the film’s problems though. This feels like a film that was severely manhandled behind the scenes and the bizarre editing of the film is the primary indicator. For example: After Hal gains the Lantern and the ring there is a scene of him attempting to say the oath correctly (which Abin Sur instructed him to do). After a few “hilarious” tries Hal finally gets it, saying the famous Green Lantern oath before becoming interrupted by Carol. Cut to the next scene of the two of them in a bar, where they have a painfully tedious scene where they exposit about their relationship. Then Hal walks out of the bar, beats up a few thugs with the ring and finally is whisked away to Oa. Why wasn’t he taken to Oa immediately after saying the oath? Why did they have to interject with such a boring, unnecessary scene? Another example has Hal as the Green Lantern showing up to stop Hector before he wreaks havoc, even though we’re given no indication of how Hal could possibly know anything was going on. It goes on like this for the duration of the film, and this choppiness effectively guts the film, leaving a series of seemingly disconnected scenes that seem to lack context. When you wait till the last 10 minutes to inform your audience about the shared history of your hero and villain then you’re doing it wrong.

What’s left is a film that doesn’t have much of a tone, veering from comic-book silliness in the action scenes to true discomfort in some of the scenes involving the villains. The score is as generic as they come, while the visual effects aren’t as egregiously bad as some have made them out to be, but the seams definitely show in a few moments. And the epic scope promised in the trailers? Well, as is often the case, everything has already been shown in promotional materials. What is in the film is integrated poorly; we are told that the Corps is a mighty fighting force, then we proceed to seem them do nearly nothing to protect the galaxy from Parallax: the ultimate manifestation of evil. When the film cuts from Earth to Oa it’s jarring and only serves to remind us of the weird places that the film could have potentially gone. It all adds up to a final product that feels like no one really cared about the final product, and if they did then they had no idea how to translate that affection to the big screen. I still think that, done well, Green Lantern could work as a superhero on film, but not with this creative team in place, not after this soulless mess. When your film ends with a giant alien fighting your hero in front of the Sun and it’s still not interesting in the slightest then you know you’ve got problems.

Review: Transformers: Dark of the Moon

By now you probably already know what you think of director Michael Bay; his reputation for making big, dumb action spectacles that eschew things like storytelling and characterization in favor of a constant series of bombastic, gorgeously photographed (if often incoherently edited) action scenes is well earned. Bay’s films are nothing if not distinctive, and his fetishization of machines, veneration of military might and childish sensibilities when it comes to things like sexuality and humor have found their perfect vehicle in the Transformers series, allowing him to indulge in all of his best and worst instincts as a director. But Transformers: Dark of the Moon arrives as something approaching an official apology, with even the director admitting that the second film (Transformers: The Legend of Curly’s Gold) was an often incoherent mess that was rushed into production without a finished script, or even a story. To that effect, T:DOTM is a vast improvement featuring an understandable (if pointlessly convoluted) plotline and some absolutely phenomenal action, though it does suffer from some familiar weaknesses that crop up in Bay’s films.

The film opens with an astoundingly silly prologue involving the Apollo 11 mission to the moon, which apparently led to the discovery of a lost artifact from the war on the Transformers’ home planet. We’re then reintroduced to Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf), our hapless protagonist, currently living in D.C. and looking for a job. Though he has the support of his new girlfriend Carly (Rosie Huntington-Whitely), he’s dissatisfied with the turn his life has taken; after all, how does someone who’s helped to save the world twice adjust to working as a glorified office intern? Meanwhile the Autobots, led by Optimus Prime, are again working with the government to root out any Decepticon presence on Earth. As the Autobots learn of Apollo 11’s discovery of an alien technology crucial to the survival of their species, Sam’s efforts to keep himself involved (despite the protestations of the Secretary of Defense, played by Francis McDormand) lead him and the Autobots to a conspiracy involving both humans and Decepticons, one that has diabolical intentions for the fate of Planet Earth.

That synopsis actually simplifies things greatly. I didn’t even mention John Malkovich as Sam’s odd new employer, or Ken Jeong as (I think) a human involved with the Decepticons, or even Patrick Dempsey as Carly’s smarmy boss. The plotting for the first 80 minutes of the film is hopelessly convoluted and Bay throws so much of it at you without stopping to catch a breath that my head was spinning trying to keep up with what was going on. This section of the film isn’t helped by the director’s unfortunate tendency to pile on the pointless comic relief characters. Ken Jeong in particular stops the film dead to deliver some shtick, in the process delivering unnecessary exposition that surely could have been handled in a better, less grating manner. Thinking back on it, the film’s plot does mostly make sense (though there are huge leaps in logic endemic to this kind of blockbuster film), but the way that the screenplay is constructed confuses more often than not. Luckily once the film settles into it’s last, long action stretch, the plot untangles itself, giving us clear indications of what everybody’s objective is and what the stakes are for all involved in the final hour.

And what a final hour it is. Here is where Michael Bay steps up to do what he does best: Blow shit up real good. Much has been made about Bay being persuaded to film this installment in 3D, and for the first time since Avatar it feels like it is truly necessary for the experience of the film. While his shots are always well composed, one thing that the 3D forces Bay to do is to dial-down on the quick cut, frantic quality of his other films. The final battle of the last Transformers film is the most infamous example of this, with the action basically rendered incomprehensible by Bay’s seeming inability to hold a shot for any amount of time. Not so here, as the action is fluid and easy to follow, with the longer takes adding greatly to the action inasmuch as the audience can finally see the breathtaking spectacle happening before their eyes. The final battle, which takes place in Chicago refitted as a Decepticon war zone, is nearly an hour long and is filled to the brim with great action moments: soldiers in wing-suits diving out of a crashing helicopters, a gigantic, Dune-like mechanical worm creature burrowing from out of the ground, a sequence in which our protagonists try to escape from within a building as it collapses and many, many others. What keeps all this action from feeling as excessive and pointless as it did in the last one is that there’s a measure of care in the construction of the entire sequence. The action seems to flow logically from one point to the next, always keeping the audience aware of what’s going on and where the characters are in relation to one another. And though the stakes might be ludicrous, they’re handled in such a way to make us care about the action on screen in a way that Bay has rarely mustered before. In short, I think the final hour of T:DOTM is the director’s finest work and one of the best action sequences in years (easily the best of the Summer so far).

As for the actors? They’re functional, but none really stand out. Shia LaBeouf is a likeable leading man as usual and his humorous moments actually provoke laughter from time to time. Rosie Huntington Whitely is not as blank as I had feared; she actually brings more screen presence to the “stock female character” than Megan Fox did in the last two. I wouldn’t call her a “good” actress, but I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing her in a better written role. Out of the comedic relief roles (thankfully Shia’s parents are mostly absent from the proceedings this time) only John Turturro really stands out, once again attacking the role of paranoid agent Simmons with gusto. Francis McDormand? Well, she manages to keep a straight face the whole time, which she should be applauded for. The voice actors all bring the gravitas truly needed to inhabit computer-generated robots that transform into cars. The special effects are, of course, impeccable and the score is fine, if not particularly memorable (though there is at least one cue that seems ripped straight from Hans Zimmer’s Inception score).

 You probably already know if you’re going to like Transformers: Dark of the Moon. It is a Michael Bay film through and through, with the best aspects of his work (gorgeous cinematography, a true skill in constructing an action sequence) rubbing up against his worst instincts (his perfunctory approach to plot, a pretty bad sense of humor). As a fan, I can say that I had a really fun time with the film. I can say that if you’re a fan of the director’s work then you will be treated to an action spectacle to a degree unmatched this, or any other summer (and please, see it in 3D). To paraphrase Frank Miller’s Wolverine, “He’s the best at what he does.” Whether or not you think what he does is very nice will entirely determine your outlook on Transformers: Dark of the Moon.

Review: Midnight in Paris

A director as prolific as Woody Allen is bound to have plenty of misses to go along with the hits. But even an ardent admirer of Mr. Allen’s such as myself was hard-pressed to find anything redeeming about his last outing, You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, a sloppy, unpleasant film that found an apparently apathetic Woody unable to create even a compelling framework from which to hang his sour misanthropy. Which is why it’s such a delight to discover that his newest offering, Midnight in Paris, is a wonderful film, easily his best in some time and one that reaffirms Woody as a singular storytelling voice in today’s cinema.

Gil (Owen Wilson) is, believe it or not, a struggling writer (it is a Woody Allen movie after all) who has come to Paris with his shallow, unpleasant fiancée Ines (Rachel McAdams), tagging along with her parents. Gil venerates the city, not as it exists today, but rather the Paris of the twenties, where writers like Hemingway talked shop with Gertrude Stein, where Luis Bunuel fraternized with Salvador Dali and the music of Cole Porter filled the air. Hoping for the possibility that the city will inspire him, and to escape from the insufferable pretensions of a family friend (Michael Sheen), Gil goes wandering around the city at night, only to be transported (the mechanics of this are left pleasingly vague) back to the Paris of Gil’s romantic yearning. Now, in the thick of this creative heyday, Gil couldn’t be happier, while Ines begins to question where he’s going to late at nights. But even as Gil connects with a beautiful French woman in the past (Marion Cotillard), his unusual circumstances allow him to question both his romantic conception of the past and his outlook on the present day.

Midnight in Paris finds the director moving away from the world-weary cynicism of his last two films and into the realm of magical realism. Even before Gil steps back in time Allen presents us with an idealized Paris, one we’re introduced to first in a picturesque, pre-credit montage of the city reminiscent of Allen’s love letter to his own hometown, Manhattan. Clearly the director is as in love with the city as his protagonist, which is fitting, as Gil is another in the long line of Woody Allen stand-ins (sometimes it’s hard not to imagine Woody reciting Gil’s lines). Luckily Wilson, who can be an understated comedic performer when paired with the right material, brings his amiable charm to the performance, which allows Gil’s typical Allen neuroses and mannerisms to be charming rather than grating (as can sometimes be the case). Once Gil takes the trip back in time, he is suddenly surrounded by the artists whose work he idolizes: people like Hemingway, Fitzgerald (both of them) and Dali. These roles are inhabited by a gallery of charming character actors, from the recognizable (Adrien Brody kills as Dali) to the less familiar (Corey Stoll, who’s worked mostly in television, brings a fierce concentration and roguish charm necessary to inhabit the role of Ernest Hemingway). While sometimes the sheer volume of influential artists Gil encounters can become a bit much– there are many variations on the line, “I’d like you to meet Luis.” “Luis Bunuel? The filmmaker?!” – each is memorable in their own way.

What elevates Midnight in Paris from being just a pleasant, time-spanning travelogue is Woody’s exploration of nostalgia and how it keeps us from moving forward as individuals. Early on in the film, Michael Sheen’s slick operator proclaims nostalgia to be a form of denial, one that denies the realities of the present for a comfortably idealized version of the past. While Sheen’s character is derided as a pseudo-intellectual, the film in some ways affirms his sentiments. While Gil’s time in the past is well spent, this fantasy of the past is just that: a fantasy. The film isn’t discounting nostalgia entirely, and it certainly conveys the allure of such a fantasy. But the romantic pull of the past, embodied by the mysterious and ethereal Marion Cotillard, has a flip side, a refusal to engage with the present and, thus, discounts the possibility for real growth. What Gil takes from his time spent in the past is valuable and, in acknowledging the realities of his present day circumstances, awakens him to the possibilities in his own life. It is a refreshingly uplifting outlook, and it’s gratifying to be reminded that Allen can evoke this sense of wonder and magic in what he would otherwise consider a cold, indifferent universe.

Midnight in Paris certainly has issues. As might be expected with someone who shoots a new script every year, some of the characters get shortchanged. Rachel McAdams, in particular, doesn’t get to have much dimension; she’s a shrew at the start and stays that way till the end, leaving us to wonder what Gil ever saw in her other than a sounding board reaffirming his own insecurities. Michael Sheen, delightfully smarmy in the few scenes he gets, is more or less discarded from the picture entirely; he could have done with one more scene. Luckily other characters that were probably thin on paper (McAdams’ parents in particular) are elevated by the performances and some great Woody Allen lines (“The detective agency says the detective has gone missing”). The cinematography is gorgeous at presenting Paris, both past and present, in a romantic light and the evocative score contributes greatly to that effect as well.

Woody Allen has said that he makes films only to take his mind off of death and that he doesn’t think that any of his films will be remembered. While one could certainly beg to differ on the second point, lately his films have started to feel as much a chore for the audience as they seem to have become for Allen himself. Luckily Midnight in Paris finds Woody (and us) escaping into the best kind of fantasy: A romantic fantasy of Paris as it was and as it is now, a fantasy where the artists of yesterday are living, vibrant inspirations for today, a fantasy where nostalgia is embodied as a gorgeous, unobtainable woman and where the world is, if only for 94 minutes, a place brimming with mystery, magic and possibility.

Review: Super 8

This review contains a few spoilers, which I have marked.

During the often heated debates about this year’s Sucker Punch, more than a few argued that it should be appreciated for being an “original property,” i.e. not based on any preexisting comics/books/films/video games etc. The common retort to that defense was that it was actually based on all of them, the argument being that, as an amalgamation of various geek cultural touchstones, its supposed originality was negated. Without saying anything for or against that film, much of the critical appraisal for J. J. Abrams’ Super 8 has focused on a similar discussion about its originality (though in this case the responses have tended much more towards the positive). While some have applauded it as a breath of fresh air in a summer of sequels/prequels/remakes/reboots and the like, others have accused it of simply aping the early 80s works of Steven Spielberg (a producer on this film), taking a variety of familiar elements and repackaging it under the guise of homage. Unfortunately, while the film starts off as a familiar but very effective coming of age story, J.J. Abrams is completely unable to match his mentor when it comes to successfully integrating the disparate halves of his story.

Joe (Joel Courtney) is a young boy growing up in a small town in 1979. He’s just lost his mother to an industrial accident and as a result he is estranged from his hard-edged father (Kyle Chandler), the sheriff of the town. In his spare time Joe works as a make-up and special effects technician on Super 8 movies with his friends. One night, while shooting a scene at a train station with a cute young girl from their class, the boys witness a devastating train derailment. With the government’s intervention the next day, and a subsequent rash of strange occurrences (dogs disappearing, electricity going haywire etc.) it becomes clear that something has escaped from the train and is threatening this small community. It falls to Joe and his friends (and his potential new crush) to figure out what is going on and what they can do to stop it.

Super 8 begins with a wealth of promise. The characters in the early scenes are extremely well drawn, and Abrams does a great job of sketching out the sad details of Joe’s situation, as well as creating a believable and funny dynamic between the group of young boys. This all builds to a wonderful moment between Joe and Alice, the young girl he has a crush on (Elle Fanning), followed by another great moment in which Alice holds the boys (and the audience) captivated by her acting abilities. The film up to this point relies solely on character, seemingly laying the groundwork for a satisfying story of adolescent pain and first love.

And then J.J. has to go and ruin it with a monster movie.

That’s coming from someone who loves monster movies. In fact, the Abrams-produced Cloverfield, which so many maligned upon its release, was one of my favorite films of that year. But the choice to introduce this science fiction element cripples the film. First of all, while some of the scenes with the monster are creepily effective, they’re never connected satisfactorily to what is going on with Joe and his friends. This scary creature rampaging across the small town plot seems to sort of just exist on its own for awhile; we’ll have a scene of Joe getting to know Alice better or the kids attempting to film their monster movie with the added “production value” of the recent military presence, then cut to a scene of the menacing the town. In attempting to balance these two separate story elements, Abrams short-changes them both. The characters, no longer given the time to develop, simply become pawns in the science fiction story, effectively losing what dimension they had earlier. I haven’t even mentioned the side story of Joe’s father (gamely played, but ultimately let down by the script, by Kyle Chandler). His character has buried himself in his work after his wife’s death, but his relationship with his son is illustrated solely through tired clichés (“You never understood me!”) and his attempts to discover what’s happening in the town are only a distraction and add nothing to the proceedings but padding. The decision to keep the monster hidden for most of the runtime is, I guess, Abrams’ homage to Jaws and its effective (and necessary for budgetary reasons) withholding of shark’s appearance in order to build tension. But Abrams never truly evokes a sense of menace, the feeling that the monster could be around any corner, because the film is so unfocused.

If the Jaws section of the film falls flat, then the E.T. section is, frankly, insulting. See, towards the end of the film, once the monster’s origins are revealed, the film suddenly decides it’s not about adolescent romance or a family unit being reconciled in the face of a monstrous threat. No, somewhere along the line it becomes a (*Spoilers*) story of shared grief, of two vastly different figures (Joe and the monster) each dealing with painful loss and their ability to overcome it by letting go. This would be great if the film had given us much indication that Joe was truly impacted by his mother’s death. While he certainly seems sad, he actually seems remarkably well composed for a kid 4 months after his mother’s death. If he, like the monster, had been angrily lashing out at those whom he had perceived to have hurt him, then the ending could have worked. Instead, it comes as an inexplicable development late in the film, eventually building up to an ending that is astonishing in its assumption that it can gain so much emotional catharsis out of so little effort (*End Spoilers*)

I have liked J.J. Abrams’ previous projects to one degree or another and with Super 8 he appears to reach for the blockbuster auteur mantle of Spielberg. Notwithstanding what happened to the last guy deemed “the next Spielberg” (M. Night Shyamalan), this ambition seems to have either hamstrung him (by attempting to stick to closely to copying the master) or, a more disheartening possibility, revealed him as a guy with not much original to say. While Super 8 certainly captures a bit of that Spielberg touch in its early moments, ultimately Abrams is unable to replicate what made those earlier films work, remaining content to coast on their fumes in the hope that audiences will be desperate for even a rough approximation of their charms.