3.5/4 stars
I grew up with Star Trek, and although I've never considered myself a die-hard fan (it's just a good TV show to me), I can remember seeing this movie for the first time sometime before age 10. I've probably seen it a few times after that, but long enough ago that it still surprised me. Star Trek II lived in my memory as being a kick ass entry in the franchise, a movie that avoided many of the cheesy pitfalls of its brothers, but it is more than just that. The Wrath of Khan is a tense, thematically complex and well constructed film; in fact, it may be the bar that No Country For Old Men fell short of.
Let me explain... It helps to remember that in the first place, I didn't find No Country For Old Men to be that good, hence my review. But in fact, the films are thematically similar. Both are about a man who feels old and tired, and his quest to bring to justice an enemy of profound evil. Both demonstrate the lawlessness and brutality that can exist in their worlds, and take the lives of many. In No Country For Old Men, those deaths are never resolved, and the only lesson the hero learns is one of despair. In this film, there are conscious acts of self-sacrifice that help put that evil to rest, the kind that Tommy Lee Jones' sheriff lacked the courage to make.
Science fiction fails when it's used as a flavor, a color scheme applied to generic action. Good science fiction, from Blade Runner to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, uses the possibilities of speculative science to explore important questions. Of course, the The Wrath of Khan does use the conventions of the genre for its setting; there are starships whose shields are either up or down at any given moment, and the teleportation technology that can only be used under certain circumstances, and all the other rules that fans of the series know so well. But futuristic technology also gives the film its two most effective symbols.
The first is the Kobayashi Maru. Aging and death are major thematic concerns of this movie, and the Kobayashi Maru mission, a training simulation that tests character by exposing would-be captains to an unavoidable catastrophe, provides a concrete basis for conversations about how the characters face the inevitability of death; discussions of bravery and sacrifice. It also provides the film's shocking introductory scene, which brings this theme to the forefront by portraying the simulated demise of each of the series' main characters (minus Kirk, an exception that proves significant).
The second is a device called Genesis which allows the near instantaneous terraforming of planets, replacing whatever is there with a predetermined pattern of life and growth. This gives humanity the mirroring powers of creation and destruction. Rebirth as a counterpoint to death comes up repeatedly, as does the motif of the death and birth of planets (notice Khan's description of how his own castoff planet became barren). The moral implications of these abilities, as well as the untrusting relationship between science and the military are played upon in the film.
That an entry in a popular science fiction franchise should be so ambitious at all will be a surprise to the expectations of many, but that these themes are all addressed articulately in the space of such a finely structured film is a marvel that should intrigue any viewer.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Max Payne
2/4 stars
How silly of me to think that as a gamer, my intelligence could be respected for 100 minutes straight by Hollywood. You see, Max Payne was a video game released in 2001, one of the first to utilize the "bullet time" concept seen in The Matrix and convert it to a playable experience. More importantly though, at its best, the game was a moody and atmospheric foray into gritty pulp storytelling that used characters' affected perceptions of reality to explore questions of genre and medium. Non-gamers will scoff (then again, at this date, some might not) but if I were reviewing a movie worthy of that game today, I might be giving it four stars.
The disturbing part is that Max Payne (the film) starts off so well. Aesthetically, it's almost dead on. Appropriately, it borrows heavily from The Matrix, and the result is smooth yet textured neo-noir. Mark Wahlberg himself doesn't characterize the motor-mouthed Hammett wannabe that the game provided, but he does alright at creating a new take on the character. Mila Kunis on the other hand plays Mona Sax as though... well, as though she actually played and liked the game, at least (When did Mila Kunis become so fucking good? She actually sort of steals the movie.) and several other actors turn in reasonably flavorful performances. The first hour of Max Payne is patient, intricate and mysterious.
However, when the film reaches its climax, it seems as though someone remembered that they were contractually obligated to deliver a brainless demolition derby to the video game players. We only like skilled genre exercises for the aesthetics anyway, when it comes down to it, we probably want action above all else, and anything we might need to use our heads to work out is swept under a rug easily enough... Right? It's a massive disappointment considering that the film has spent an hour by this time painstakingly setting up characters, clues and questions that are never resolved. Max gets high (perhaps the audience was expected to keep up) and the film never indulges in another coherent thought.
Various points in Max Payne stand out favorably in my memory. The camera lingering on the mouth of a soldier, which turns upward into a disturbingly gleeful smile as he describes the wonder drug that has made him a perfect killing machine. Police cruisers rolling through unplowed snow in the dead of the winter night. A femme fatale slipping out of her clothes in an attempt to evade a question she doesn't want to answer. What I wonder is, how did these moments come from the same filmmaker who gave us this disjointed, insulting climax? Max Payne feels like it was once a fine film, but was the victim of a profit driven editor and a set of unfortunately low expectations.
How silly of me to think that as a gamer, my intelligence could be respected for 100 minutes straight by Hollywood. You see, Max Payne was a video game released in 2001, one of the first to utilize the "bullet time" concept seen in The Matrix and convert it to a playable experience. More importantly though, at its best, the game was a moody and atmospheric foray into gritty pulp storytelling that used characters' affected perceptions of reality to explore questions of genre and medium. Non-gamers will scoff (then again, at this date, some might not) but if I were reviewing a movie worthy of that game today, I might be giving it four stars.
The disturbing part is that Max Payne (the film) starts off so well. Aesthetically, it's almost dead on. Appropriately, it borrows heavily from The Matrix, and the result is smooth yet textured neo-noir. Mark Wahlberg himself doesn't characterize the motor-mouthed Hammett wannabe that the game provided, but he does alright at creating a new take on the character. Mila Kunis on the other hand plays Mona Sax as though... well, as though she actually played and liked the game, at least (When did Mila Kunis become so fucking good? She actually sort of steals the movie.) and several other actors turn in reasonably flavorful performances. The first hour of Max Payne is patient, intricate and mysterious.
However, when the film reaches its climax, it seems as though someone remembered that they were contractually obligated to deliver a brainless demolition derby to the video game players. We only like skilled genre exercises for the aesthetics anyway, when it comes down to it, we probably want action above all else, and anything we might need to use our heads to work out is swept under a rug easily enough... Right? It's a massive disappointment considering that the film has spent an hour by this time painstakingly setting up characters, clues and questions that are never resolved. Max gets high (perhaps the audience was expected to keep up) and the film never indulges in another coherent thought.
Various points in Max Payne stand out favorably in my memory. The camera lingering on the mouth of a soldier, which turns upward into a disturbingly gleeful smile as he describes the wonder drug that has made him a perfect killing machine. Police cruisers rolling through unplowed snow in the dead of the winter night. A femme fatale slipping out of her clothes in an attempt to evade a question she doesn't want to answer. What I wonder is, how did these moments come from the same filmmaker who gave us this disjointed, insulting climax? Max Payne feels like it was once a fine film, but was the victim of a profit driven editor and a set of unfortunately low expectations.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Last Kiss
2/4 stars
This is the second film I've seen starring Zach Braff, and surprisingly is far inferior to his earlier work, 2004's Garden State. In that movie, Braff was writer, director and lead, and the result was a middling and formulaic "indie" genre film that seemed to confirm his status as a novice. I would have thought that a different director and a script by eminent writer Paul Haggis would be an improvement. Unfortunately for Braff fans and non-fans alike, this is not the case.
Like Garden State, this is an attempt at an introspective film that comes off as melodramatic due to a lack of veracity. Braff plays Michael, who is in a happy relationship but is bombarded (along with the audience) by images of couples who are unhappy more due to incivility than misunderstanding (as if happy couples ought to be worried by this). When he meets Kim (Rachel Bilson) the two of them have an affair seemingly because he is too passive to avoid it. The film attempts to remind us of the idea that new romances always seem more appealing than familiar ones at first, but is far too heavy-handed in doing so: the interior of each established relationship we see is hellish, whereas the escape represented by Kim crosses the line from idealistic into adolescent fantasy. The power of the film is in the sexual release that her character represents, but the film confuses it for an emotional one. I'm as big a fan of graphic sex and foul language as anyone, but I've never seen a film where they seem more obligatory than in The Last Kiss.
The real shame here is all the wasted talent. Braff and Bilson both have strong TV backgrounds, Tom Wilkinson and Blythe Danner are established veterans, and Casey Affleck has been highly acclaimed for his recent work in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford and Gone Baby Gone. Here they all read dialogue that insults them as actors, the worst I've ever seen from Paul Haggis. The soundtrack is good, but seems designed more to impress music geeks than to function as a part of the film (speaking as a music geek, we hate that) and in fact often clashes with the scenes where it is used. There is a shameless scene late in the film where Kim presents a mix cd in an attempt to impress Michael, and in that moment becomes a figure of foolishness and emotional immaturity. Braff designed this soundtrack (as he did the one for Garden State) in an attempt to impress a music savvy audience. What then, are we to think of him?
This is the second film I've seen starring Zach Braff, and surprisingly is far inferior to his earlier work, 2004's Garden State. In that movie, Braff was writer, director and lead, and the result was a middling and formulaic "indie" genre film that seemed to confirm his status as a novice. I would have thought that a different director and a script by eminent writer Paul Haggis would be an improvement. Unfortunately for Braff fans and non-fans alike, this is not the case.
Like Garden State, this is an attempt at an introspective film that comes off as melodramatic due to a lack of veracity. Braff plays Michael, who is in a happy relationship but is bombarded (along with the audience) by images of couples who are unhappy more due to incivility than misunderstanding (as if happy couples ought to be worried by this). When he meets Kim (Rachel Bilson) the two of them have an affair seemingly because he is too passive to avoid it. The film attempts to remind us of the idea that new romances always seem more appealing than familiar ones at first, but is far too heavy-handed in doing so: the interior of each established relationship we see is hellish, whereas the escape represented by Kim crosses the line from idealistic into adolescent fantasy. The power of the film is in the sexual release that her character represents, but the film confuses it for an emotional one. I'm as big a fan of graphic sex and foul language as anyone, but I've never seen a film where they seem more obligatory than in The Last Kiss.
The real shame here is all the wasted talent. Braff and Bilson both have strong TV backgrounds, Tom Wilkinson and Blythe Danner are established veterans, and Casey Affleck has been highly acclaimed for his recent work in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford and Gone Baby Gone. Here they all read dialogue that insults them as actors, the worst I've ever seen from Paul Haggis. The soundtrack is good, but seems designed more to impress music geeks than to function as a part of the film (speaking as a music geek, we hate that) and in fact often clashes with the scenes where it is used. There is a shameless scene late in the film where Kim presents a mix cd in an attempt to impress Michael, and in that moment becomes a figure of foolishness and emotional immaturity. Braff designed this soundtrack (as he did the one for Garden State) in an attempt to impress a music savvy audience. What then, are we to think of him?
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