Review - Wrath of the Titans

Grade: D

Not long after the 2010 remake of Clash of the Titans was released star Sam Worthington apologized for “let[ting] down some people” and promised to act “f**king better”.

After seeing the sequel to Clash, the more appropriately named Wrath of the Titans, one thing is clear about Sam Worthington: he has shown tremendous improvement in his acting abilities because that was one heck of an empty apology.

Jonathan Liebesman’s, the poor soul in the middle of Michael Bay’s efforts to destroy the legacy of the Teenage MUTANT Ninja Turtles, Wrath is as turgid and uninspired as the first remake, minus the kernel of trite fun that tempered the overwhelming last’s overall crappiness. This time Worthington’s dour Perseus is called into battle by his absentee father, Zeus (Liam Neeson), in an attempt to stop Zeus’ father, the child gobbling embodiment of time and lord of the pre-Olympian Titans, Cronos. Content to live out the rest of his life as a better father than his ever was, Perseus refuses until the sickest--and not in the hip way--looking manticore committed to celluloid threatens his son, Helius (John Bell). Spurned by the near loss of his only family, Perseus leaves his son behind to join warrior princess Andromeda (Rosamund Pike) and his half-cousin Agenor (Toby Kebbell), the cowardly son of Poseidon. Together the three must brave cyclopes, four-armed whirling dervishes, labyrinths, and minotaurs in before they can stop Hades (a disenchanted Ralph Fiennes) and the rebellious Aries (Edgar Ramirez) from unleashing the Titans and eradicating the Greco-Roman Pantheon. Very little wrath is executed.

Liebesman does nothing to enliven the Titans franchise or bring anything remotely unique to the table. The flick still tracks more as big-screen video game with a progression marked more by achieving objectives and reaching checkpoints than any kind of meaningful narrative or emotional thrust. Sure, the characters all have some semblance of motivation, but those motivations are so thinly sketched that it’s hard to develop any level of investment in any character. Even without some degree of investment in the characters, the audience never has to worry about any danger befalling the character because Liebesman never establishes any stakes or tension. Rarely are Perseus and his crew ever in true danger because there’s sure to be some random god or weapon around to help them out of any remotely challenging predicament. The absolute lack of tension or character investment not only reflects poorly on the film but on Liebesman as a director who appears to have no fundamental understanding of how craft a compelling story.

Despite a promise of improved acting, the performances do little to elevate the flick above its D-level quality. Worthington fails to act “f**king better” and opts for his trademark glower instead of anything resembling human emotion. Neeson and Fiennes show up; dote and sneer, respectively; and collect a paycheck. Pike looks positively lost, and seems only slightly less engaged than Gemma Atkinson did in Clash. Toby Kebbell tries his best to be entertaining as a scheming ne’er do well, but a stream of bad jokes and radical eleventh hour change in his character, which comes out of nowhere and makes Kebbell seem either like a victim of script machinations or a man possessed with multiple personalities, easily undo his noble effort. Bill Nighy is also on hand in an extended cameo as Davy Jones mad ancestor, who actually seems scripted to be possessed by multiple personalities.

Between the performances and the uninspired direction, it’s surprising that Wrath even made it out of production and beyond the editing bay and Netflix instant streaming to the silver screen, but, in truth, it’s not that surprising. Warner Brothers knows they have an ace in the hole this summer with the Dark Knight Rises (DKR). Since DKR will likely put Warner deep into the black for 2012, they probably figure they can throw anything at the audience to keep them satiated until July 20. Sadly, they may be right, but throwing tripe like Wrath at audiences is just straight up disrespectful, and as an audience, the best thing to do is avoid Wrath like the plague and maybe prevent Warners, and the other studios, from pumping crap like Wrath into the multiplexes. Maybe.

The Yin and the Yang of it

Yin: Thin on plot, character, and any other essential element of a solid narrative. Derivative of almost any other historical/mythical action epic, right down to the amorphous glob of lava and rage that escaped from a longer, better video game like shadow of the colossus.

Yang: A few moments of quality 3D and decent creature effects.

In-Between: Wrath of the Titans is seven minutes shorter than Clash of the Titans.

Review - Mirror Mirror

Grade: B-

Yang: Roberts carries this flick on her smile; only Armie Hammer tries to keep up. Amazing set design and art direction contribute to a tangibly fantastical world.

Yin: Thin plot with uninspired twist on the Snow White character; pacing and entertainment value suffer when weaker actors ***coughLilyCollinscough*** take center stage

In-Between: A Bollywood number awaits those who stay for the credits. Take that as you will.

All I remember about Tarsem Singh’s last feature, the stunning slog that was Immortals, was fist-fighting with the sandman.

Singh has a great eye for visual design and a real talent for creating the type of dazzling eye candy that belongs in an art gallery as much as it does on the silver screen. The problem with his films are the flimsy stories meant to support his peculiar visions. In this respect, his latest, and the first volley in 2012 War of the Snow White adaptations, Mirror Mirror is not much different, but at least it has more than a few charming performances to make the proceedings more than bearable.

As is the trend these days, Mirror Mirror spins the classic tale of Snow White on its axis and flips the perspective to that of the evil Queen, this time played with snide infectiousness by Julia Roberts and her wide-tooth grin. Mirror Mirror starts just before the classic apple handoff with Snow White (Lily Collins) confined to her room for years in the wake of her father’s disappearance. In the absence of the king, the Queen has taken control of the magical no-name kingdom and run its finances into the ground, thanks to her penchant for unabashed luxury, while the working class denizens of the castle and the neighboring village struggle to eat and live indoors. Meanwhile, Snow White’s desperate desire to breathe fresh air leads her to escape the castle and journey into the forbidden woods just beyond the kingdom’s border where she runs afoul of and falls in love at first sight with the handsome, slightly pompous Prince Alcott (Armie Hammer), who has been upended by a gang of seven thieves on stilts. After an assist from the cute alabaster skinned princess, the Prince makes his way to the Queen’s castle where he again crosses paths with Snow, who is promptly banished for escaping her room again. Left to fend for herself in the forbidden woods, Snow falls in within seven dwarves, who may or may not be on the up and up, and sets out to usurp the Queen before she can romance the good Prince Alcott and tighten her grip on the kingdom.

One thing Singh absolutely nails with Mirror Mirror is, unsurprisingly, the visual sense of whimsy and the fantastic. From set design to cinematography, the snow-covered world of Mirror Mirror looks every inch a realm of slightly askew fantasy that could easily double as a new section in Islands of Adventure. The visual idiosyncrasy of the kingdom enlivens the admittedly thin story in a way that Singh’s similar approach to the world of Ancient Greece never did in Immortals. This is exactly what audiences would expect a storybook realm would look like, and for that achievement, Singh deserves a sincere tip of the hat.

The characters who exist in Singh’s off-kilter magical world are equally off-centre, displaying the sort of over-the-top, snarky, self-aware personalities that the cast of Once Upon a Time only wishes they could show off. Despite top billing, Julia Roberts steals the show with her haughty, quirky take on a Queen who is not so much evil but desperately vain. She chews so much scenery it’s a wonder any was left for the rest of the cast to stand on, but compared to most depictions of the Evil Queen, which revel in vacuous sneering, Roberts’ infectiously mischievous take is breath of fresh air.

The only member of the cast who seems in on the same joke as Roberts is Armie Hammer, whose Prince Alcott is so imperfectly pompous and pretentious that he’s clearly a better match for Roberts’ Queen than Collins’ innocent, cutesy Snow, who does little, even after taking a level in badass, to change any perceptions about Snow that haven’t been altered by works like Fables. Nathan Lane also flitters about in the background as the Queens’ right hand man, but he is clearly outmatched by Roberts overwhelming delirium. The seven dwarves--including veterans Martin Klebba, Mark Povinelli, and Danny Woodburn--are spritely and charming enough that the good people at Disney may need to file suit. Mirror Mirror may not host the greatest performances, but at least the actors keep things more interesting than the frowny cusses in Immortals ever did.

All things considered, Mirror Mirror is far more charming than it could have been, considering its pedigree. As the more kid-friendly of the two Snow White adaptations being released this year, the flick is upbeat and snarky to a fault, but it is colorful and charming enough to keep the audience, especially the little ones, enrapt for most of the runtime, with only minimal pacing issues n the middle. If Mirror Mirror was released before Immortals, I might have had more respect for his talents as a storyteller. As it is, I have gained a measure of respect, but I wonder if that is due more to the talent in front of or behind the camera.

Review - The Hunger Games

Grade: B

Yin: Uninspired action diminishes emotional weight of character building efforts. Plot is a little too familiar to older, more violent versions of this age-old tale.

Yang: Well-crafted with great attention to character building at the expense of world building and spectacle--which is both a good and bad thing. Unsurprisingly Strong performances by Lawrence, Hutcherson, Harrelson, and Kravitz.

In-Between: From the looks of the citizens in the Capitol, it looks like the Joker finally won the day. Good job, Bats.

Barnum promised the world that a sucker’s born every minute. The thing about those suckers is that they don’t become a problem until they get old enough to influence culture on a mass scale.

I’ll admit I’m coming into to the Hunger Games phenomenon completely blind, but I read Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” when I was in middle school. By the time I was in 9th grade, I had read Richard Connell’s “Most Dangerous Game”. A few years out of high school, I read Koushun Takami’s manga Battle Royale and saw the first live action film.

Suffice to say, very little about Gary Ross’ well-crafted adaptation of the first book in Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy is very original, but to tweens who have not even seen an edited cut of Stone Cold Steve Austin’s The Condemned, it’s probably a revelation. But, since when has originality ever been a prerequisite for quality?

Hunger Games tells the tale of a post-apocalyptic world where the cast of Cirque Du Soleil has subjugated 12 regions, known as Districts, in the landmass once known as North America after quelling some vague human rights rebellion. As punishment for demanding basic human and civil rights, the Capitol, located in the heart of what was once Denver, requires each District to offer up one male and female between the ages of 12-18 as tribute, a participant in a survival of the fittest battle between lethal teens from each District known as the Hunger Games. To prevent her young sister from becoming tribute, skilled hunter and archer Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) of the Appalachian-esque District 12 volunteers to be tribute. Along with the male tribute for her district, Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), Katniss is transported to the Capitol in preparation for the games, in which 23 tributes go home in boxes. Katniss and Peeta are prepped for the battle of their life by drunken former champion Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) and compassionate stylist Cinna (Lenny Kravitz). Once the games begins, no amount of help can save Katniss and Peeta from facing overwhelming odds and almost certain death, as they try to bring a sliver of hope to their District.

Director Gary Ross has crafted a fairly austere adaptation of Collins’ novel. The film is possessed with an earthy quiet that is all but shattered when one of the clown-faced aristocrats from the Capitol invades the screen. Ross spends an almost detrimental amount of time building character and fostering our investment in these poor children who are being sacrificed for reasons far beyond their comprehension. In the moments of quiet, the characters all seem possessed with an unrelenting melancholy, and these are the moments where Ross’ direction truly shines. Beyond these moments, Ross drops fumbles a bit. The action is rarely thrilling or inspired, and any seasoned action movie aficionado will know every beat before it happens. However, thanks to Ross’ character building, the action scenes retain a baseline tension because Ross has worked overtime to make the audience care about characters, some of whom have only been briefly sketched.

The character work in Hunger Games is what really carries the film, and much of its success is due to the commendable work of Jennifer Lawrence and a fine supporting cast. Lawrence brings the stoic dignity that made her work in the similarly Appalachian-set Winter’s Bone so powerful. As Katniss, Lawrence is admirably principled and heroic despite doing only a few measurably heroic deeds without assistance, a problem which also plagued one Harry Potter. Josh Hutcherson has a bit more meat to his role as the neglected, conflicted Peeta, who is a far more interesting character to watch than everybody’s favorite archer. Hutcherson does well, but, just like his character, is unfortunately overshadowed by Lawrence’s more easily likable Katniss. Woody Harrleson plays up the roguish scamp angle as the obviously tormented Haymitch while Lenny Kravitz is one robe shy of his mystical negro badge as Cinna. Despite the predictability of their roles, both make amiable effort at making each character show signs of measurable depth and likability. Unfortunately, Elizabeth Banks, Wes Bentley, and Donald Sutherland fare less favorably as a clown-faced twit; pompous TV producer; and the slimy, heartless Big Bad, respectively.

Despite a few weak performances, Ross’ direction and the work of Lawrence and Hutcherson combine to make the Hunger Games more than the sum of its parts. As a rumination on the culture of youth, entertainment, and the sacrificial nature of both, Hunger Games has some merit, but it is hardly the revelatory take the marketers would have us believe. While Ross’ film goes a long way towards improving Hunger Games odds at cementing its place as a international phenomenon, any one old enough to have seen or read any of the prior versions of this age-told tale may be underwhelmed by the familiar plot, yet they could do far worse things with their time than giving the Hunger Games a chance.

Review - A Thousand Words

Grade: C-

Yin: Standard Murphy vehicle with by-the-numbers theatrics and jokes with no punch or resonance. Talent, like Kerry Washington, are grossly misused, portraying cut-outs rather than characters.

Yang: Not as bad as the latest Murphy vehicles; Some occasionally touching moments near the end and a earnest performance by Ruby Dee bring a bit of dignity to the proceedings.

In-Between: Eddie Murphy. Quiet for half a movie. That should work.

So, somebody finally decided to pay Eddie Murphy to shut up.

In his latest, A Thousand Words, Murphy plays Jack McCall, a motormouthed jackass of a literary agent who apparently is unfamiliar with Kindle, iPad, and the entire e-Book revolution. A classic Hollywood workaholic, Jack has no time for his wife (Kerry Washington, in the thankless “hot, disapproving wife” role normally reserved for TV actresses between the ages of 30-40...oops) and new son, which is patently aggravating because paying for a house in what looks like Hollywood Hills should only require a paycheck from a 9-5. At work, Jack, the rare literary agent who doesn’t read, has found the next big thing in self-help/meditation/actualization guru Sinja (Cliff Curtis, playing Indian despite his Maori heritage), who believes, unironically, in the revolutionary idea that quiet leads to inner peace and self-discovery.

After conning his way into Sinja’s retreat, Jack makes a promise to promote an unseen tome by Sinja according to Sinja’s philosphy before cutting himself on a tree within moments of Sinja waxing poetic on the majesty of trees. Coincidence? The next day the tree magically appears in Jack’s backyard and begins shedding leaves with every word Jack speaks. The closer the tree comes to losing all its leaves; the closer Jack comes to dying. With only a thousand leaves left, Jack must figure out how to live without being mouth almighty, tongue everlasting or die after his thousandth word.

Murphy is slightly less grating in A Thousand Words than he has been in his latest cinematic ventures, especially since he has to rely on something other than his trademark whiplash-inducing smart-assery for more than half the flick. In the latter half of the flick, he makes a noble yet desperate attempt at that Oscar that eluded him a few years ago, failing to realize this is a Eddie Murphy vehicle. Clark Duke is mildly amusing as Jack’s assistant, bringing some of the sly, self-deprecating barbs that highlighted his performance in Hot Tub Time Machine. Ruby Dee also brings a touch of dignity to the proceedings as Jack’s aging mother, who is suffering from a crippling case of Alzheimer’s. Despite Dee, Duke and Murphy’s efforts, the rest of the cast fails to track as anything more than cut-outs, which is particularly disappointing in Washington’s case.

Director Brian Robins does little to help A Thousand Words become more than a trite platform for Murphy’s theatrics. Rarely do any of the jokes land with anything resembling resonance. Somewhere near the end of the film, Robbins and crew drop any pretensions of making audiences laugh and, taking a page out of the Tyler-Perry-bait-with-comedy-and-switch-to-drama book, turn A Thousand Words into a heavy-handed psuedo-drama. But, Robbins greatest sin is in making A Thousand Words so generally light and unaffecting. Clearly, this flick was meant to be both moving and funny, but it barely manages to successfully demonstrate either quality. All things considered, this isn’t Norbit, but it’s nothing remotely spectacular or affecting. But considering how far Murphy’s fallen since the days of Trading Spaces and Coming to America, it’s better than the average, and, in less than a thousand words, that’s not saying much.

Review - John Carter

Grade: C-

Yin: Uneven tone, sluggish pacing, and weak performances fail to elevate material beyond expertly crafted crap.

Yang: Visually stunning, mostly faithful adaptation that is generally hollow.

In-between: Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins) in the original Barsoom series by Edgar Rice Burroughs was naked except for some fancy jewelry. This is a Disney production. Do the math.

So He-Man, Master of the Confederate States of America, goes to Mars, hooks up with this naked red Martian princess, fights big green four-armed Martians, giant white King Kongs, and.....zzzzzzzzzzzz......

There’s no way I should be able to describe a narrative with such fantastic elementsand feel so demoralized in doing so. Should there? But, that is exactly how I felt after leaving a screening for Disney’s latest stab at recapturing the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise formula, John Carter.

Carter is based on one of Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs earliest pulp confections, the Barsoom series. The Barsoom series centers on Virginian John Carter, a former captain in Jefferson Davis’ Confederate army who, in his post-Civil War disillusionment, drifts to Arizona and discovers a wealth of strangely-marked gold in hidden cave. The cave itself happens to be waystation for a interplanetary highway that allows Carter to travel to the planet of Barsoom, also known as Mars. Once on Mars, Carter becomes embroiled in civil war between the humanoid red Martians and finds new purpose as a warlord, savior, and lover of buxom red Martian princess Dejah Thoris. Now, I’m no expert on the Barsoom series, but I do--at least from reading a few of Dynamite publishing’s comic adaptations--the basics and I know that 99% of the martians bop around the Red Planet in their birthday suits--especially Dejah Thoris--and some of the finest bling on this side of the Milky Way.

The fact that John Carter is a Disney production, helmed by Pixar pro Andrew Stanton who is directing his first live action feature, pretty much assures that there’s no nudity and, relatively, minimal gore--this is Disney after all. That is a little bit sad because somewhere there as porn director Aside from missing those major points, Stanton’s adaptation gets most of the basics right, but it absolutely drops the ball with tone, pacing, performances anything other element that may contribute to consistent entertainment value. John Carter is, in effect, the legendary piece of well-made crap that is often saved for Memorial Day weekend.

Carter is visually pretty stunning. Mars itself looks fairly impressive and tangible, and most of the creatures look slightly better than the average green screen creations, often showing more life than the human performers. Sadly, Carter falters on anything unrelated to visual effects. Tonally, Stanton and Disney try to have their cake and the guilt that comes after it. Parts of Carter are clearly designed to be lighthearted and pulpy while the majority of the ‘epic’ is sullen and heavy-handed, especially in its anti-war moments. This imbalance would be fine if Disney wasn’t positing this as some kind of serious epic, despite the fact that this is a movie about a guy dressed like He-Man saving Mars from evil monks. Worse than the uneven tone is the limp pacing. I understand taking time to establish character and atmosphere, but both are so thin that neither deserves the amount of time Stanton affords each development. This leads to serious drag in each act, enough to drag out the snores pretty early. With so much time devoted to setting up character and atmosphere, there is precious little time to develop the background of what is clearly a dense narrative, one that is desperately in need of establishing multiple motivations clearly. As a result, the feel of the world is better established than the specifics, which would help to clarify the multi-layered conflicts at the heart of the narrative.

The performances don’t help to strengthen the proceedings. Taylor Kitsch, who was never the most standout performer on Friday Night Lights--at least not compared to the rest of the cast--shows almost negative charisma as Carter. He can pose and pout for the camera, but emoting like a human being is almost out of the question. As the face of the flick’s audience surrogate, Kitsch needed to desperately turn up whatever reservoirs of personality he could access, and he just falls completely flat. Leading lady Lynn Collins doesn’t fare much better as a far more clothed Dejah Thoris, who, while assertive, is so cold that it is hard to see why Carter falls for her other than the fact that she seems to be the only reasonable attractive woman around. Dominic West is on hand as a self-serving warlord who follows the lead of evil monk, Maitai Shang, played by Mark Strong. Both are so classically evil and lack any notable shading or nuance to make them remotely accessible. Sadly, Strong and West, often superior performers, do little to enliven these characters. Even voice work by Willem Dafoe, Thomas Haden Church, and Samantha Morton, all as green martians, show little more life than glorified voiceovers that may have been equally tepid in a typical CGI animated release.

Between the generally soggy performances, the uneven tone, sluggish pacing and the general listlessness, John Carter to proves to be another stunning failed role of the dice for Disney in the epic franchise game. The latest ads are touting this as “from the studio that brought you Pirates of the Caribbean”, as if they’ve some how recaptured the magic that eluded them with Prince of Persia, Tron, and the latest Pirates movie. Disney fails to realize that what made the first Pirates, and its sequels to a lesser degree, successful was the quality of the story and the charming characters, not the spectacle.