By Brett Blake LUCY is the sort of movie that attempts to straddle a lot of genres: it’s an action film, it’s a drug-smuggling crime flick, and it’s an out-there, wild-and-crazy science fiction tale. On paper, tying those ideas into one story sounds like an ambitious and exciting task, but the problem here is that none of the elements really get much room to breathe, and the film as a whole - though certainly entertaining - never feels like it really becomes one cohesive package. The plot centers around Lucy (Scarlett Johansson), who - very much against her will - is roped into a seedy, dangerous drug smuggling operation; being used as a drug mule of sorts, Lucy’s luck gets even worse when - through plot shenanigans - she begins to absorb the drugs she’s smuggling. The side effect of this is that she begins to be able to access more and more of her brain capacity, which brings about some startling transformations within her. Morgan Freeman pops up along the way as Professor Norman, an expert in the field of genetics and brain research, to counsel Lucy as she finds herself gaining more and more unusual powers. Revenge-fueled antics then ensue. That basic premise is a compelling one, and there are definitely things that the movie has on its mind; there are some big science fiction ideas in here about the loss of one’s humanity as one’s intellect increases, and also about the responsibilities that come with extraordinary gifts, but for the most part, these notions kind of get lost in the B-movie sensibilities that writer/director Luc Besson brings to the table, sensibilities that frequently make the movie feel incredibly weird and silly. It’s the writing that really is the key problem, here. For a movie that is about a person whose brain capacity increases, LUCY is a shockingly ill-thought-out story. It’s the kind of narrative that escalates in the most incredulity-straining ways, but never reaches any kind of satisfactory climax. It builds and builds and builds and then simply stops without much of a resolution. I imagine the kind of conversations that went on between Besson and those around him during the writing phase might have sounded a bit like this: “Okay, so Lucy gets these crazy drugs inside of her.” And then? “Well, then she can suddenly kick people’s asses and is proficient with weapons!” And then? “She’s able to type on two computers at the same time, and control electronics!” And then? “Um, well, what if she can start to read people’s minds?” And then? “Uh… she gets telekinetic powers!” And then? “Oh, let’s see. Oh! I’ve got it! She…” I’ll go no further (to preserve just how totally strange the final act of the movie becomes), but you get the picture. Nothing about the story feels adequately set up or planned, it’s just a series of increasingly-outlandish moments that don’t seem like they have much (if any) organic connection to one another. Also, the fact that the plot is built around the (incredibly untrue) myth that humans “use only 10% of their brains” (a fallacy stated by Morgan Freeman’s supposedly-brilliant - and walking storytelling cliche - Doctor Exposition character) makes the whole thing feel unbelievably silly, because the outlandishness has absolutely no basis in any kind of realistic, plausible scientific theory or research. And that’s fine, I guess, up to a point; this is a science fiction film, after all, so artistic license comes with the territory, but you’d be hard pressed to come out of this film not thinking the whole thing was pretty ridiculous. Now, of course, ridiculous can be fun, and there is fun to be had in LUCY. The way it gleefully plunges forward into the increasing insanity with a straight face is actually kind of charming, and the action (though surprisingly sparse) has a violent and nasty edge to it that sets it apart from some of the more bland actioners director Besson has been associated with over the years. Additionally, the movie looks quite slick, and it makes decent use of the globe-trotting locales to which the story heads. This review no doubt reads as more negative than positive up to this point, but the biggest positive has yet to be discussed: Scarlett Johansson’s performance, which is legitimately great. She’s got a convincing physical presence in all of the action stuff, but where she really shines is in charting the emotional transformation that Lucy undergoes along with the intellectual and physical ones. Lucy begins the story as a fairly normal gal, one who quickly becomes scared for her life as she gets involved with the shady villains in the drug business, but once she begins to “access more of her brain” (a real line from the film; I told you it was silly…), her entire personality changes, and Johansson starts to bring a semi-chilling sort of detachment to the proceedings. The detachment increases as Lucy gains more and more brain capacity, until she’s rendered something approaching a sentient robot: frighteningly intelligent and articulate, but with few emotional connections. Johansson is great at selling this transformation, and she gets one wonderful scene in particular (a phone call from Lucy to her mother as she starts to become aware that things are changing inside of her) that is so good, so genuine and affecting, that it almost feels like it belongs in a better movie. Though LUCY is constructed in a wobbly - and perhaps unsatisfying - fashion, it grapples with some intriguing concepts; yes, these concepts are kind of fumbled by the silly execution, but the movie deserves credit for trying to be about something, just as Scarlett Johansson deserves credit for nearly saving the entire film single-handedly. LUCY could be called a misfire, but it’s an interesting one, certainly, and Johansson’s work alone is worth seeing.
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By Brett Blake HERCULES, director Brett Ratner’s latest, is one of the more surprising films to arrive so far this summer. It’s surprising not because it’s bad (heck, Ratner’s track record is spotty enough for a person to reasonably assume - in knee-jerk fashion - that anything new from the guy won’t be much good), but because it’s actually a very solid adventure tale with a compelling lead performance from Dwayne Johnson. It’s interesting to think that the character of Hercules has never really gotten his due in the live action realm, and certainly not with the kind of budget and technological tools that were extended to this new version. Director Ratner and company make the most of them, presenting a fairly slick, polished yarn that does justice to the legendary character, if not the actual specifics of his legend itself. Indeed, those looking for a straight re-telling of the classic Hercules myth, complete with lavish, no-expense-spared depictions of his Twelve Labors are likely to be quite disappointed by the film, which posits that Hercules’ legend was something of his own making, and of those who followed him. In fact, the whole story is a commentary on myth-making itself; in a prologue, we see brief glimpses of Hercules engaged in several of his Labors, but the movie makes it clear there was far more going on than any of the myths surrounding the character ever implied. The movie has some fun poking holes in the classical image of Hercules, while still conveying the notion that he’s somebody worth following and fighting for. These ideas are interesting, and the dichotomy between the way people see a hero and who that hero actually is inside adds some compelling elements to the otherwise-standard plotline. Said plot, which involves Hercules and his small band of mercenaries agreeing to train an army to defend a seemingly-in-danger city ruled by John Hurt’s character, is the kind of sword and sandal stuff we’ve all seen before in countless other films (complete with more than a couple twists that anybody who’s ever seen another movie should be able to spot coming from a long way off), but it’s done with no small amount of charm and good humor; the movie knows exactly the sort of film it is, and it has fun with the concept without being tongue-in-cheek or apologetic about it. All that said, one gets the sense that the filmmakers might have been just a little too clever for their own good in the way they’ve reinvented the character of Hercules; a proper “Twelve Labors of Hercules” film could have been a terrific spectacle, so it’s hard not to see HERCULES as a minor missed opportunity, no matter how entertaining the final result is (and it certainly is entertaining). Johnson - who is always highly watchable but would never be accused of having incredible range as an actor - does fine work in the title role; obviously, he’s got a handle on the physicality demanded by the part, but even in the quieter moments, he’s legitimately good. He’s surrounded by a mini Rogue’s Gallery of strong supporting talent: the likes of Ian McShane, John Hurt, Rufus Sewell (in a non-villainous role for a change!), Peter Mullan, and Joseph Fiennes all show up to chew some scenery (to various degrees), and they add some nice color to the proceedings. McShane and Sewell, in particular, get some entertaining moments to play as they bounce off the other characters. The movie often looks very good, complete with seemingly massive and practical sets, and even though it never really shows us anything we haven’t seen before (from a visual perspective), it also never looks aggressively cheap, as so often can happen in the sword and sandal genre. Additionally, the action/fight sequences are legitimately fun, complete with a bit of flair and verve in the choreography and staging of the scenes; these sequences are also - thankfully - edited in a coherent fashion, rather than cut to shreds (in an attempt to be EXTREME! or EXCITING! or CHAOTIC!) as so frequently is the case in modern action films. Though HERCULES probably won’t satisfy die hard aficionados of mythology (I’m not sure how many of those people exist, but still), it is more entertaining than you might expect it to be, and it doesn’t insult the intelligence of its audience (well, not too terribly much, anyway). Director Brett Ratner is often a deserving punching bag in movie buff circles, but when he gets something right, he deserves a little credit, too: HERCULES is a perfectly fine, fun time at the movies. Sometimes a little goofy, sometimes a little familiar, it’s heart genuinely is in the right place, and at a tight 98 minutes, it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It’s a much better movie than it probably should be. By Breanne Brennan We've got a wonderfully bad crop of posters for some upcoming movies to destroy this week. Let's begin, shall we? I smell a Douglas/Keaton rom-com! Why you ask? Well, light colors and a rather haphazard placement and expressions of its two stars make this seem like something that was thrown together because someone in the marketing department didn't have much to go on besides some fake plants and a wooden beam. How about the tagline: There are a million reasons not to like Oren Little. Just ask everyone. If there are a million reasons not to like this guy, then why not show him in a douchey pose, have some angry people around him, or shooting a dog with a paintball gun like in the trailer. Just a thought.
By Brett Blake DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES is not only a stirring and engrossing example of science fiction, it’s also a flat-out excellent work of cinema, and 2014’s best film so far. That may sound like hyperbole to some, but DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES easily surpasses even the lofty heights of its predecessor, 2011’s RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES, to become one of the great sci-fi allegories of the decade. Picking up ten-or-so years after the previous film, the story again revolves around Caesar (played through “performance capture” technology by Andy Serkis), the leader of a society of abnormally intelligent apes apes living in Muir Woods north of San Francisco. They haven’t seen any humans in years, a byproduct of a global outbreak of “simian flu,” which wiped out most of the world’s human population. Mankind is not all gone, though, as a group of surviving humans have banded together in San Francisco under the leadership of Malcolm (Jason Clarke) and Dreyfus (Gary Oldman); their attempt to restore power to the city brings them into contact with Caesar and his apes, and it is this clash of civilizations and species that forms the backbone of the story’s conflict. The PLANET OF THE APES series - which dates back to 1968 with the classic, Charlton Heston-led original - is often highly regarded for its unbelievably bold narrative choices (the first film features one of the greatest twist endings in all of cinema, for example, while later films routinely gave audiences what can only be described as “downer endings”), and it has always dealt with sophisticated, cerebral, and even quite dark themes. Racial hatred, class oppression, and the fear of nuclear annihilation are all key elements of the subtexts of the original films; even under the cool makeup and the time travel hijinks, those earlier films had big things on their mind. So, too, does DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES, which - boiled down - is a thoughtful meditation on the corrupting and poisonous effects of violence and vengeance, an idea that underlines just about every key point in the story. Just having a compelling idea like that at its heart is not what really sets the movie apart, though; it’s the way in which it addresses/tackles that theme that is so intelligent and complex. At the core, one could say the basic premise of the film is “apes versus men,” and one would not be faulted for expecting a simplistic “apes = good, men = bad” kind of approach, but the filmmakers want none of that, for that is the easy (read: lazy) storytelling approach. As presented in the film, neither camp is wholly good or bad, and each have (basically) reasonable intentions. There are noble and virtuous characters in each group, just as there are those who are scared and prejudiced, and it is this prejudice that eventually plunges both groups into violent conflict. Caesar and Malcolm embody the capacity for men and apes to coexist and understand one another, but their desire for a peaceful outcome is constantly undercut by those around them, and while much of the film’s third act is quite thrilling, there’s an air of inevitable tragedy surrounding it. It’s so rare for a blockbuster to even attempt to depict this kind of gray area, but this movie more than makes an attempt. It embraces the gray, and the result is a story that’s as intellectually satisfying as it is emotionally or viscerally. As such, those hungry for a non-stop, action-packed spectacle are apt to be just a bit disappointed. Yes, there are some big action beats (a nighttime assault by the apes on the humans’ San Francisco colony is as harrowing and thrilling a setpiece as there’s been all year), but the movie plays out more like a thriller. There are plenty of exciting moments, but the true thrill of the movie is in its ideas and themes. The acting - across the board - is tremendous. Much has been said about Andy Serkis and his performance as Caesar, and all the praise is justified; he builds on what he did in the previous movie, and his Caesar here is more weary, but he’s still willing to see the best in those around him, be they ape or human. His human opposite number is Jason Clarke’s Malcolm, and he’s a worthy face for the potential decency that humanity has to offer; it’s a sensitive and “everyman”-ish performance from Clarke, and one that positions him to quickly rise to leading man status. As Dreyfus, Gary Oldman is as reliable as always, and his character is (thankfully) nowhere near as one-note as he could have been (a moment where Dreyfus weeps over pictures of his dead family imparts invaluable depth and humanity to a character who is, ostensibly, one of the story’s antagonists). And just as Caesar has something of a mirror image in Malcolm, so too does Dreyfus (well, kind of) in the character of Koba, a scarred, angry, and scheming ape played by Toby Kebbell. Koba is perhaps the most fascinating character in the entire film, and as he allows his hatred of humans to overpower him (and to drive both groups towards war), Kebbell gets some great moments to play, particularly those involving his stand-offs with Caesar. The visual effects used to bring the apes to life are, quite simply, extraordinary. The CGI on display here sets the new gold standard for believability, and the ape characters surpass the likes of Davy Jones (from the PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN franchise), Gollum (from THE LORD OF THE RINGS), and even RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES’ own primates, and are - for the most part - entirely photorealistic. It’s a huge achievement for the talented artists and technicians (in concert with the actors playing the roles) and one that should surely net them Oscars once the Academy Awards roll around next year. Another key component is the movie’s musical score. Composer Michael Giacchino supplied the scores for director Matt Reeves’ previous two films, 2008’s CLOVERFIELD and 2010’s LET ME IN, and he’s on board here, as well. The score works terrifically within the context of the film itself; at times it’s openly emotional, and yet at other times it embraces dissonance and eeriness. It’s an effective mix of tones, and the central theme (though reminiscent of some of Giacchino’s work for the television show LOST) ties everything together in a quite affecting way. Engrossing from its first moment to its last, DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES is a thought-provoking morality tale in the best sci-fi tradition, and it’s the most complete and satisfying science fiction blockbuster since INCEPTION. It’s that good. |
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