By Brett Blake JUPITER ASCENDING - the latest film from directors Andy and Lana Wachowski - is a lot of things. Visually stunning, unbelievably silly, packed with energy, and narratively underwhelming… It’s a classic mixed bag case, and a person’s own feelings towards movies that can only be described as “all over the place” will no doubt dictate just how much enjoyment he or she can derive from it. There are some undeniably great things about the film, just as there are other elements that are nothing less than head-scratchingly strange. The plot (a convoluted one with a very complex mythology and backstory) defies my ability to distill it down into a coherent synopsis, but the basic thrust involves Jupiter Jones (Mila Kunis), a young woman from Chicago who finds herself embroiled in a galactic dispute between the three heirs of the Abrasax family (chief among them Balem, portrayed by newly-minted Oscar nominee Eddie Redmayne) over the ownership of Earth (a planet with supposed strategic value to these space rulers). She’s aided by Caine Wise (Channing Tatum), a kind of space cop whose genes have been cross-bred with those of a wolf, and as the pair try to stay one step ahead of those who need Jupiter (for various reasons), they find themselves falling for each other. Royal birthrights, natural resource conflicts, kidnappings, and double crosses all figure into the plot at various points, as well. If you think that sounds complex, trust me when I tell you that the way the plot unfolds in the context of the movie itself is even more labyrinthine than that. It’s difficult to really dive into a discussion of JUPITER ASCENDING because it really is a tale of two films: the good one and the goofy one. At its best, the movie is packed full of some incredibly stunning visuals; the amount of creativity on display - from the very, very cool designs of the myriad creatures, spaceships, and exotic “alien” locales - is superb and kind of staggering. Every non-Earthbound frame of the movie is populated by either a neat character, or a jaw-dropping space vista, or fascinating costumes and sets. On top of the impressive visual work, the movie’s action sequences are absolutely tremendous, as well; the Wachowskis apparently handed down a directive to both the visual effects and stunt crews that when at all possible, the participants in the action were to be captured on camera “for real,” in lieu of using digital recreations. While there are surely some moments where that was not possible, to my eye it sure looks like a TON of practical stuntwork went into the creation of these scenes, and it pays off in a big way, lending a sense of weight and believability to the goings-on. This is never more apparent than in the movie’s best sequence, a truly spectacular and thrilling chase in the pre-dawn skies over Chicago. Not only is it imaginatively staged, but it feels all the more exciting because we’re clearly watching Tatum and Kunis (and their stunt doubles, no doubt) being hoisted around on (invisible) wires over Chicago’s streets. It’s a remarkable setpiece, one that is among the very best I’ve seen in a long time. The movie’s biggest stumble - aside from its sometimes strange tonal shifts, including a far-too-goofy-for-its-own-good sidetrip into Space Bureaucracy Land - is in its implementation of a narrative device that has been termed “The Chosen One” by those who study story structure; it basically describes a story where the protagonist somehow has some kind of special, pre-ordained destiny that he or she must fulfill. One of the clearest examples of this can be found in the Wachowskis’ own THE MATRIX, where Keanu Reeves’ Neo is explicitly called “The One” because of his special destiny. We get more of that sort of thing with Kunis’ Jupiter Jones here, a woman who ends up - through no direct action she herself takes - being of enormous importance to the entire galaxy. Personal mileage may vary, but I find that kind of character story to be increasingly lazy, it makes characters less relatable, and its usage here makes some of the proceedings feel truly ridiculous. As with the whole movie itself, the acting is a mixed bag of sorts. Channing Tatum is actually very good, and he somehow manages to sell all the silliness of the plot with an earnest and straight-forward sensibility that is really appealing. Mila Kunis fares just slightly worse, though that’s not really the fault of her performance; as written, Jupiter is almost entirely a reactive (not proactive) character. For nearly all of the running time, she is operating almost solely based on the whims and desires of - or ultimatums from - other characters, and she often finds herself in “damsel in distress” mode, needing to be saved by Tatum’s character. Kunis has an innate likability and charm that helps to counteract this a bit, but the script truly doesn’t do her many favors. The key supporting roles are all executed with various degrees of professionalism, and it’s certainly fun to have Sean Bean playing another elder badass type, even if it’s the kind of thing he could play in his sleep at this point. And that brings us to Eddie Redmayne as the main villain of the story. All hoarse whispers, occasional high-pitched screaming outbursts, and stretched lips, I can honestly say I have no idea what Redmayne was going for here. It’s a performance that - at every turn - threatens to cross over into high camp because of how affected it is. There is nothing approaching naturalism, only pure scenery chewing; there are whole dialogue scenes that go by where Redmayne appears intent on keeping his face as still as possible, and the result of this - in conjunction with his strained, “my voice box has been damaged” line deliveries - is truly bizarre. I give Redmayne credit for going all the way with it, and surely he was directed in a fashion that allowed him to do so, but it is a performance that can only be described as ultra-peculiar. If nothing else, the cumulative effect of all of the movie’s best (quick shout-out to Michael Giacchino, contributing another great musical score) and worst elements is that JUPITER ASCENDING is nothing less than a fascinating movie. It’s never boring, and it is often enormously entertaining… though, admittedly, for reasons both intentional and not. Some will probably hate it, others might love it, others still might regard it as a curious, ambitious misfire. Personally, I think there’s more good in it than bad, and it’s worth seeing for both the boundless visual creativity and the pure love for science fiction that are on display.
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