My Recent Reviews
AlexN has written 5 reviews.
If you ever saw Boogie Nights, you'll remember the scene where Burt Reynolds sits in an editing room with Ricky Jay, looking over the closing footage of his masterwork, the first Brock Landers/Chest Rockwell action porno where Mark Wahlberg and...
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If you ever saw Boogie Nights, you'll remember the scene where Burt Reynolds sits in an editing room with Ricky Jay, looking over the closing footage of his masterwork, the first Brock Landers/Chest Rockwell action porno where Mark Wahlberg and John C. Reilly share some of the most amazing dialogue written by man. At one point, Reynolds hopefully states out loud, "This is the one. This is the one they're going to remember me for." While watching In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, you can actually hear Uwe Boll uttering the same words somewhere amid all the clumsy high fantasy action sequences and hammed-to-the-hilt acting.
It's fitting, then, that Burt Reynolds is in A Dungeon Siege Tale, as a stately faux-English king, at that. That's just one of many astonishing bits of casting in this film adaptation of a middling action RPG. Jason Statham plays the lead, a farmer named...well, Farmer, who finds himself caught in the middle of a battle between Reynolds' kindom of Ebb (not Gondor) and an evil race known as the Krug (not orcs) led by an evil wizard (not Sarumon). That evil wizard is played by, of all people Ray Liotta, who seems like the only one in on the joke as he cackles like he's been on a two-day cocaine binge and dresses like he's in the wizardly equivalent of the trenchcoat mafia.
It gets better. Farmer's son is murdered by the not-orcs, and his wife, played by Claire Forlani (who at one point looks like she ages about 15 years over the course of one scene, without the aid of special effects) is kidnapped. Farmer sets out about his revenge, but not before encountering a number of other amazingly casted characters.
Leelee Sobieski (looking off-puttingly mannish) arrives to play the brooding daughter of Jonathan Rhys-Davies' good wizard (he's been in one of the movies this one shamelessly rips off—he should know better). Ron Pearlman severely tests whatever goodwill he might have amassed from his Hellboy role by playing…well, a medieval fantasy version of himself for a while before dying a rather incoherent death. Kristianna Lokken shows up intermittently as some sort of lesbian tree nymph that can inexplicably control vines like she'd been reading Scott Smith's The Ruins religiously. And Matthew Lillard, sweet, sweet Matthew Lillard, takes on the role of the comically evil duke who wants to unseat the king and take power for himself. Lillard looks like he got good and liquored up before each shoot, channeling a mixture of his psycho-schtick from the end of Scream and Dudley Moore circa Arthur.
The only person on this cast of the damned who gets something of a pass is Brian White, the leader of Reynolds' army and pretend-Faramir. His previous roles include the direct-to-video Bring It On: In It To Win It and the role of Zack in the DOA movie. You can't tarnish a career that doesn't exist. If anything, this is a major step up.
White aside, I'm always amazed at Boll's ability to draw actors that have been in legitimate films into his web of cinematic deceit, especially as his catalog of garbage grows and more and more people should be figuring out exactly what his scam is. It's not like the script offers anything but gigantic alarm bells that this whole thing is a disaster. The plot is indecipherable. Reynolds' stately king (I never get tired of saying that) is fighting Liotta's not-Sarumon for reasons never explained. Statham spends a lot of time unemotionally mugging for the camera and spouting one-liners, making you wonder if they ever had a vision of this character beyond “What if the dude from the video game was the guy from The Transporter? That'd be awesome, right?” Lillard flops around for the camera like a foppish mental patient as he screeches about becoming the next king, King Burt Reynolds periodically says something that's supposed to sound dignified yet sounds deep-fried coming out of his morbidly stretched mouth (he evidently filmed this immediately after having plastic surgery, and looks sort of like F. Murray Abraham in Star Trek: Insurrection) and Liotta is saddled with dialogue that belongs in a Mr. Show sketch about evil wizards.
Periodically, there are battles—wildly incoherent battles that seem to take place within a twenty foot by twenty foot grid of forest where opposing captains seem to be standing within loud talking distance and can apparently kill one another rather easily. The not-orcs look rubbery, and the actors playing them were apparently told to study tapes of the putty underlings from the first run of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers for inspiration regarding their characters' movement. Fantastic.
The worst part is that at times, Boll skates on the line of competence with the cinematography. Clearly he spent a great deal of time studying his Lord of the Rings director's cut DVDs, looking for big sweeping mountain shots he could plug in using his filming license in the Canadian rockies. At one point a few of the heroes saunter up to the dark, lava-surrounded castle owned by Liotta, and from the ridiculous panning shots and almost unmanageably malevolent soundtrack, you halfway expect Sean Bean to run up and nervously yell out, "One does not simply walk into Mordor!" Though maybe that's giving the film's atmosphere and effects a bit too much credit. The CG castles and soldiers are uniformly hysterical and look about as natural as Burt Reynolds' face.
I could prattle on about the epileptic editing and ripped-straight-from-the-video-game soundtrack, but after a while I'd just start repeating myself. It's abundantly clear from the opening moments of In the Name of the King where this thing is headed, as Liotta shoves his tongue down the throat of a vaguely confused looking Sobieski, the two of them stopping every now and again to flat-read lines that George Lucas would find embarrassing.
I'm not surprised that In the Name of the King sucks—I celebrate that fact. This is as entertaining a piece of **** as Boll has ever produced. He has been getting more and more serious with each picture, and thus been inching closer and closer to making movies that are legitimately funny, precisely because of how seemingly serious he takes this junk. In a way, Boll wouldn't be too far off calling In the Name of the King his most memorable work—it will likely stand as the funniest thing the guy ever made. Especially when you take a look at the trailer for his upcoming attempt at legitimate comedy, Postal. Yeesh.
It's fitting, then, that Burt Reynolds is in A Dungeon Siege Tale, as a stately faux-English king, at that. That's just one of many astonishing bits of casting in this film adaptation of a middling action RPG. Jason Statham plays the lead, a farmer named...well, Farmer, who finds himself caught in the middle of a battle between Reynolds' kindom of Ebb (not Gondor) and an evil race known as the Krug (not orcs) led by an evil wizard (not Sarumon). That evil wizard is played by, of all people Ray Liotta, who seems like the only one in on the joke as he cackles like he's been on a two-day cocaine binge and dresses like he's in the wizardly equivalent of the trenchcoat mafia.
It gets better. Farmer's son is murdered by the not-orcs, and his wife, played by Claire Forlani (who at one point looks like she ages about 15 years over the course of one scene, without the aid of special effects) is kidnapped. Farmer sets out about his revenge, but not before encountering a number of other amazingly casted characters.
Leelee Sobieski (looking off-puttingly mannish) arrives to play the brooding daughter of Jonathan Rhys-Davies' good wizard (he's been in one of the movies this one shamelessly rips off—he should know better). Ron Pearlman severely tests whatever goodwill he might have amassed from his Hellboy role by playing…well, a medieval fantasy version of himself for a while before dying a rather incoherent death. Kristianna Lokken shows up intermittently as some sort of lesbian tree nymph that can inexplicably control vines like she'd been reading Scott Smith's The Ruins religiously. And Matthew Lillard, sweet, sweet Matthew Lillard, takes on the role of the comically evil duke who wants to unseat the king and take power for himself. Lillard looks like he got good and liquored up before each shoot, channeling a mixture of his psycho-schtick from the end of Scream and Dudley Moore circa Arthur.
The only person on this cast of the damned who gets something of a pass is Brian White, the leader of Reynolds' army and pretend-Faramir. His previous roles include the direct-to-video Bring It On: In It To Win It and the role of Zack in the DOA movie. You can't tarnish a career that doesn't exist. If anything, this is a major step up.
White aside, I'm always amazed at Boll's ability to draw actors that have been in legitimate films into his web of cinematic deceit, especially as his catalog of garbage grows and more and more people should be figuring out exactly what his scam is. It's not like the script offers anything but gigantic alarm bells that this whole thing is a disaster. The plot is indecipherable. Reynolds' stately king (I never get tired of saying that) is fighting Liotta's not-Sarumon for reasons never explained. Statham spends a lot of time unemotionally mugging for the camera and spouting one-liners, making you wonder if they ever had a vision of this character beyond “What if the dude from the video game was the guy from The Transporter? That'd be awesome, right?” Lillard flops around for the camera like a foppish mental patient as he screeches about becoming the next king, King Burt Reynolds periodically says something that's supposed to sound dignified yet sounds deep-fried coming out of his morbidly stretched mouth (he evidently filmed this immediately after having plastic surgery, and looks sort of like F. Murray Abraham in Star Trek: Insurrection) and Liotta is saddled with dialogue that belongs in a Mr. Show sketch about evil wizards.
Periodically, there are battles—wildly incoherent battles that seem to take place within a twenty foot by twenty foot grid of forest where opposing captains seem to be standing within loud talking distance and can apparently kill one another rather easily. The not-orcs look rubbery, and the actors playing them were apparently told to study tapes of the putty underlings from the first run of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers for inspiration regarding their characters' movement. Fantastic.
The worst part is that at times, Boll skates on the line of competence with the cinematography. Clearly he spent a great deal of time studying his Lord of the Rings director's cut DVDs, looking for big sweeping mountain shots he could plug in using his filming license in the Canadian rockies. At one point a few of the heroes saunter up to the dark, lava-surrounded castle owned by Liotta, and from the ridiculous panning shots and almost unmanageably malevolent soundtrack, you halfway expect Sean Bean to run up and nervously yell out, "One does not simply walk into Mordor!" Though maybe that's giving the film's atmosphere and effects a bit too much credit. The CG castles and soldiers are uniformly hysterical and look about as natural as Burt Reynolds' face.
I could prattle on about the epileptic editing and ripped-straight-from-the-video-game soundtrack, but after a while I'd just start repeating myself. It's abundantly clear from the opening moments of In the Name of the King where this thing is headed, as Liotta shoves his tongue down the throat of a vaguely confused looking Sobieski, the two of them stopping every now and again to flat-read lines that George Lucas would find embarrassing.
I'm not surprised that In the Name of the King sucks—I celebrate that fact. This is as entertaining a piece of **** as Boll has ever produced. He has been getting more and more serious with each picture, and thus been inching closer and closer to making movies that are legitimately funny, precisely because of how seemingly serious he takes this junk. In a way, Boll wouldn't be too far off calling In the Name of the King his most memorable work—it will likely stand as the funniest thing the guy ever made. Especially when you take a look at the trailer for his upcoming attempt at legitimate comedy, Postal. Yeesh.
Posted jan 15, 2008 5:25 pm pt
Sunshine wants to have it both ways; it tries to be a creepy sci-fi thriller, and a character study on the stresses of space travel and the emotional state of people charged with such a monumental task. It is this scattering of concepts that drags...
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Sunshine wants to have it both ways; it tries to be a creepy sci-fi thriller, and a character study on the stresses of space travel and the emotional state of people charged with such a monumental task. It is this scattering of concepts that drags it down.
For what it's worth, the character study stuff works. Watching this team of wide-eyed astronauts get into minor scuffles with one another in between gawking sessions at the ever-approaching sun and, in the film's most triumphant moment of sheer beauty, the planet Mercury, is really engaging stuff. Some of these actors aren't exactly fantastic, but the writing is sharp enough to keep their interactions consistently fascinating for two full acts as the mission and their mental states begin to unravel at an alarming speed.
Then, in the third act, the whole thing gets completely bollocksed. After meeting up with the ship Earth had sent seven years prior and subsequently lost all contact with, the film decides that the only way to finish this thing out while simultaneously ramping up the tension is to, quite literally, steal the last half hour of Event Horizon, minus the hell dimension thing. Its thievery is so blatant as to even make the final antagonist look almost identical to Sam Neill's character in Event Horizon's final act. As if the film hadn't spent enough time building up the tension and instability with its existing scenarios and characters, writer Alex Garland takes the piss yet again in the end of one of his stories, yanking some absurd situation out of left field and stirring it into the mix until the film you'd been so enraptured by becomes almost unrecognizable for a time. He did it in The Beach (though, to be fair, that film had several issues prior to the end), and he did it in 28 Days Later. Someone really needs to assign this guy a writing partner specifically to write endings for him, because he just doesn't know how to do it himself.
Still, disastrous climax aside, the film ends on a proper note, and all the stuff leading up to that ridiculous conflict, not to mention the astonishing looking spatial scenery and ship special effects make Sunshine worth seeing. It's a good film that will have you screaming in the end about how it could have been so much better.
For what it's worth, the character study stuff works. Watching this team of wide-eyed astronauts get into minor scuffles with one another in between gawking sessions at the ever-approaching sun and, in the film's most triumphant moment of sheer beauty, the planet Mercury, is really engaging stuff. Some of these actors aren't exactly fantastic, but the writing is sharp enough to keep their interactions consistently fascinating for two full acts as the mission and their mental states begin to unravel at an alarming speed.
Then, in the third act, the whole thing gets completely bollocksed. After meeting up with the ship Earth had sent seven years prior and subsequently lost all contact with, the film decides that the only way to finish this thing out while simultaneously ramping up the tension is to, quite literally, steal the last half hour of Event Horizon, minus the hell dimension thing. Its thievery is so blatant as to even make the final antagonist look almost identical to Sam Neill's character in Event Horizon's final act. As if the film hadn't spent enough time building up the tension and instability with its existing scenarios and characters, writer Alex Garland takes the piss yet again in the end of one of his stories, yanking some absurd situation out of left field and stirring it into the mix until the film you'd been so enraptured by becomes almost unrecognizable for a time. He did it in The Beach (though, to be fair, that film had several issues prior to the end), and he did it in 28 Days Later. Someone really needs to assign this guy a writing partner specifically to write endings for him, because he just doesn't know how to do it himself.
Still, disastrous climax aside, the film ends on a proper note, and all the stuff leading up to that ridiculous conflict, not to mention the astonishing looking spatial scenery and ship special effects make Sunshine worth seeing. It's a good film that will have you screaming in the end about how it could have been so much better.
Posted aug 24, 2007 4:34 pm pt
I loved the first two Blade films--this one just goes in the worst conceivable direction over and over again until you can't help but laugh at it, specifically for two reasons. One, it has the most amazingly blatant and over-the-top product...
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I loved the first two Blade films--this one just goes in the worst conceivable direction over and over again until you can't help but laugh at it, specifically for two reasons. One, it has the most amazingly blatant and over-the-top product placement of any film in recent memory with its constant displays of Apple products, going so far as to having the main heroine put together a playlist for her iPod before the gigantic sequence of asskickery at the end (and, I'm sorry, but if you're putting Jurassic 5 on a soundtrack for mass vampire killings, you're doing something very wrong).
Also, the film deserves some kind of award for the most ludicrous casting of a film since Luc Besson made Tiny "Zeus" Lister the President of Earth in the Fifth Element. Jessica Biel and Ryan Reynolds (AKA our generation's Chevy Chase) as ass kicking vampire hunters? Parker Posey as an evil vampiress who growls through every sentence like a horny country club cougar after downing five gin and tonics? That guy from Prison Break (no, the OTHER guy) as mother &%$*ing Dracula? Natasha Lyonne? James Remar? John Michael Higgins? Eric Bogosian? Patton Oswalt? TRIPLE H?!?!? Ye gods, someone give Ronnie Yeskel (the casting agent) a trophy.
Beyond that, it's a vampire hunting sitcom with action sequences that are just as exciting as watching Kris Kristofferson sleepwalk his way through his mercifully few scenes. At least someone knew this movie wasn't a good idea.
Also, the film deserves some kind of award for the most ludicrous casting of a film since Luc Besson made Tiny "Zeus" Lister the President of Earth in the Fifth Element. Jessica Biel and Ryan Reynolds (AKA our generation's Chevy Chase) as ass kicking vampire hunters? Parker Posey as an evil vampiress who growls through every sentence like a horny country club cougar after downing five gin and tonics? That guy from Prison Break (no, the OTHER guy) as mother &%$*ing Dracula? Natasha Lyonne? James Remar? John Michael Higgins? Eric Bogosian? Patton Oswalt? TRIPLE H?!?!? Ye gods, someone give Ronnie Yeskel (the casting agent) a trophy.
Beyond that, it's a vampire hunting sitcom with action sequences that are just as exciting as watching Kris Kristofferson sleepwalk his way through his mercifully few scenes. At least someone knew this movie wasn't a good idea.
Posted aug 24, 2007 4:31 pm pt
There are only fleeting moments of intrigue peppered throughout Darren Aronofsky's pseudo-thinkpiece about love, eternal life, and...well, that's pretty much it. It's a one idea film that thinks it's a lot more interesting than it is.
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There are only fleeting moments of intrigue peppered throughout Darren Aronofsky's pseudo-thinkpiece about love, eternal life, and...well, that's pretty much it. It's a one idea film that thinks it's a lot more interesting than it is.
I give the man kudos for an interesting concept, however. Set in three different time periods (1500s Spain, 2000s America, and 2500s outer space), the almost-but-not-quite-a-story follows Thomas/Tommy and Isabella/Izzy, played by Hugh Jackman and Racheal Weisz. In Spain, Jackman is a conquistador on the hunt for the fabled tree of life for his queen (Weisz). Finding the tree which grants eternal life will save the queen from the threat of the Spanish Inquisition, or so we are led to believe. In modern times, Jackman is a medical research scientist trying to cure brain tumors, because his wife (Weisz) happens to be dying of one. Jackman is so consumed by his work that he lets the fleeting time he has left with his wife waste away, just as she does. In the far flung future, Jackman is a tai-chi loving, mediating bald astronaut in a freaky space bubble that's rocketing toward a dying star with a tree (Weisz...I think?) that keeps giving him visions of Izzy. Theoretically, this is all supposed to tie together into one overarching tale of love and eternal life. Theoretically, this is also supposed to keep an audience's attention for 96 minutes. These theories are proven incorrect rather quickly.
For starters, the tie-ins and overlaps between the timelines and stories are tenuous at best. The Spanish story is evidently a work of fiction devised by modern day Izzy in a manuscript she's been writing. The future tale is, for all intents and puroses, Aronofsky's way of masturbating onto film for significant chunks of the movie. There's no point to it except to have Hugh Jackman look crazy, talk to a tree who may or may not be a manifestation of his dead wife, and show a lot of pretty colors. Yes, the colors are gorgeous, but for the love of god, why am I looking at them? Why is he in the future? Why are they rocketing toward a dying star? What the hell is the deal with this space bubble?
Metaphors, man, metaphors! That's all The Fountain is--a long, twisting, irritating metaphor telling you, the viewer, that death, through love, brings eternal life. When we die, we live forever, so long as we are loved. Love transcends death, get it? Love. Death. Life. You'd think the ridiculously heavy-handed ending would have been enough to get the point across, but Aronofsky goes a few steps further by loading the film with too many visual ticks for any human being to ignore. He's walking down a darkened hallway, and there's a light at the end of it. Get it? DO YOU GET IT?!?! No? OK, how about we do it about five more times throughout the movie? NOW DO YOU GET IT?!?
One might be willing to put up with all the metaphorical sledgehammering if there were actually a story to care about, but there isn't one. I love artistic film making as much as the next guy, but if there isn't a story to care about and characters to latch onto, it's not a movie. And The Fountain has neither. Weisz sleepwalks her way through this whole movie, and Jackman, while admirable in spots, hams it up pretty rude, especially during the future sequences. It's not entirely the actor's faults. Aronofsky and writing partner Ari Handel leave these characters hollow. They're empty vessels, flung into situations that neither evoke the supposed tragedy of the story, nor provide satisfactory emotional resonance for two people that are supposed to be as in love as the story would like to have them be. Jennifer Connolly's emotionally broken drug addict and Keith David's sleazy drug pusher in Aronofsky's last film, Requiem for a Dream, made for more interesting lovers than these two deflated shells masquarading as characters.
Part of me wants to give Aronofsky credit for at least doing something different. The Fountain is nothing if not ambitious, and the message he wants to get across is a noble one. But for a film that's being considered high art by some, he does it in a pretty artless way, choosing to pummel the audience with non-stop metaphors and beautiful, yet pointless cinematography instead of building his artistry into something actually resembling a film with a plot, characters, and, above all else, coherence. Strictly for the super pretentious and let's-get-high-and-watch-something-trippy crowds.
I give the man kudos for an interesting concept, however. Set in three different time periods (1500s Spain, 2000s America, and 2500s outer space), the almost-but-not-quite-a-story follows Thomas/Tommy and Isabella/Izzy, played by Hugh Jackman and Racheal Weisz. In Spain, Jackman is a conquistador on the hunt for the fabled tree of life for his queen (Weisz). Finding the tree which grants eternal life will save the queen from the threat of the Spanish Inquisition, or so we are led to believe. In modern times, Jackman is a medical research scientist trying to cure brain tumors, because his wife (Weisz) happens to be dying of one. Jackman is so consumed by his work that he lets the fleeting time he has left with his wife waste away, just as she does. In the far flung future, Jackman is a tai-chi loving, mediating bald astronaut in a freaky space bubble that's rocketing toward a dying star with a tree (Weisz...I think?) that keeps giving him visions of Izzy. Theoretically, this is all supposed to tie together into one overarching tale of love and eternal life. Theoretically, this is also supposed to keep an audience's attention for 96 minutes. These theories are proven incorrect rather quickly.
For starters, the tie-ins and overlaps between the timelines and stories are tenuous at best. The Spanish story is evidently a work of fiction devised by modern day Izzy in a manuscript she's been writing. The future tale is, for all intents and puroses, Aronofsky's way of masturbating onto film for significant chunks of the movie. There's no point to it except to have Hugh Jackman look crazy, talk to a tree who may or may not be a manifestation of his dead wife, and show a lot of pretty colors. Yes, the colors are gorgeous, but for the love of god, why am I looking at them? Why is he in the future? Why are they rocketing toward a dying star? What the hell is the deal with this space bubble?
Metaphors, man, metaphors! That's all The Fountain is--a long, twisting, irritating metaphor telling you, the viewer, that death, through love, brings eternal life. When we die, we live forever, so long as we are loved. Love transcends death, get it? Love. Death. Life. You'd think the ridiculously heavy-handed ending would have been enough to get the point across, but Aronofsky goes a few steps further by loading the film with too many visual ticks for any human being to ignore. He's walking down a darkened hallway, and there's a light at the end of it. Get it? DO YOU GET IT?!?! No? OK, how about we do it about five more times throughout the movie? NOW DO YOU GET IT?!?
One might be willing to put up with all the metaphorical sledgehammering if there were actually a story to care about, but there isn't one. I love artistic film making as much as the next guy, but if there isn't a story to care about and characters to latch onto, it's not a movie. And The Fountain has neither. Weisz sleepwalks her way through this whole movie, and Jackman, while admirable in spots, hams it up pretty rude, especially during the future sequences. It's not entirely the actor's faults. Aronofsky and writing partner Ari Handel leave these characters hollow. They're empty vessels, flung into situations that neither evoke the supposed tragedy of the story, nor provide satisfactory emotional resonance for two people that are supposed to be as in love as the story would like to have them be. Jennifer Connolly's emotionally broken drug addict and Keith David's sleazy drug pusher in Aronofsky's last film, Requiem for a Dream, made for more interesting lovers than these two deflated shells masquarading as characters.
Part of me wants to give Aronofsky credit for at least doing something different. The Fountain is nothing if not ambitious, and the message he wants to get across is a noble one. But for a film that's being considered high art by some, he does it in a pretty artless way, choosing to pummel the audience with non-stop metaphors and beautiful, yet pointless cinematography instead of building his artistry into something actually resembling a film with a plot, characters, and, above all else, coherence. Strictly for the super pretentious and let's-get-high-and-watch-something-trippy crowds.
Posted aug 24, 2007 4:25 pm pt
20 years from now, humanity is on the verge of total collapse. Most of the third world nations already have caved in on themselves, and even major powers such as the United States are no longer capable of sustaining order. Riots, governmental...
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20 years from now, humanity is on the verge of total collapse. Most of the third world nations already have caved in on themselves, and even major powers such as the United States are no longer capable of sustaining order. Riots, governmental violence, disease, poverty, and any other horrible social cataclysm you can think of are parts of every day living, it seems. It's not entirely clear everything that led us down this path to dystopia, though a big part of it seems to be that in the next few years, the women of the world will become completely infertile. No new babies will be born, thus leaving our race with a rather bleak forecast. Funny how the notion of total extinction doesn't lead to an especially warm and fuzzy outcome.
This is the premise of Children of Men, the brilliant new action flick-cum-social drama from Y Tu Mama Tambien and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban director Alfonso Cuaron. Oddly, this premise isn't even what necessarily drives this film away from being just another cautionary look at the not-so-nice near future, though it's an intriguing premise for sure. Painting a picture of a childless future is certainly a more interesting way of creating a dystopian future than the sorts of broad stroke governmental evilness you find in most 1984 wannabes these days (V For Vendetta, for example). Ultimately, what turns Children of Men into more than just a depressing piece of near-future sadness is Cuaron's incredible direction, and a more effective than average underlying message of hope.
Clive Owen, who quite frankly should be the biggest British actor working in Hollywood right now, turns in a fantastic performance as a downtrodden bureaucrat treading through the muck of modern English society in 2027. England is evidently one of the last bastions of the "civilized" world, and because of that, the country is besieged with illegal immigrants trying to escape the horrors of, well, everywhere else. The autocratic government has pulled the plug on all immigration, rounding up anyone without proper papers and caging them like animals. Along the way, activists (or terrorists, take your pick) fight with the government, blowing things up for the sake of getting some kind of message across. Owen's Theodore Faron evidently used to be one of these activists, but nowadays he's content to get through his days with mild alcoholism, a general disinterest in anything related to his work, and occasional trips out to the country to visit his old hippie buddy Jasper (played to gleeful perfection by Michael Caine).
One day, Faron's old life crashes back into him when he's kidnapped by the Fishes, the number one terrorist group in England. As it happens, the Fishes are led by Faron's ex-wife, Julian (Julianne Moore), and she needs Faron's help. A "fugee" (illegal immigrant) girl named Kee needs transport papers to get to a boat. It turns out that Kee is inexplicably the first pregnant woman in 18 years, and a Super Friends-like group of the world's best scientists known as the Human Project want to get a look at her and figure out how she and she alone is somehow able to propagate the species. What follows is a dizzying, terrifying, and ultimately inspiring chase to get her through the pitfalls of a broken society, and into the hands of possibility.
From the moment Kee's secret is discovered, everything basically goes to hell. In fact, things go to hell from practically the opening shot. We discover everything we need to know about this failing world through a few quick news clips, including one describing the recent assassination of the world's youngest person, an 18 year old boy from South America. The way we watch as people gasp and break down at the news of this boy's death, just as many did when Princess Diana passed away, is extremely telling of just how priorities in this new world have shifted. As Owen wanders around London, bombings, vandalism, and all other manner of chaos seem to just be the norm. It's a vivid portrait of a society gone to hell, and Cuaron dresses it up perfectly, blending a variety of political themes and issues into this nightmarish scenario, so as to make it more than a mere "what if" piece of sci-fi fantasy.
As we get to know Faron and crew early on, the film becomes quite intriguing. There's a lot of interesting ideas introduced, future science that could be explored, and such. But as soon as Faron and Kee begin their journey to the Human Project, pretty much all form of back story is abandoned for the sake of the absolutely thrilling, and sometimes heartbreaking chase. Without spoiling what happens, there's a great deal of conflicting interest around Kee's miracle child, and the pair go through some horrific scenery as they travel. There are pieces of this movie that look like they could be set in modern-day Iraq, with war-torn streets and seemingly random outbreaks of incredible violence. Corruption, selfish interests, and many other dark facets of the human soul conspire to impede the journey, and all the while, we're on the edge of our seats, hoping for that miracle to come through.
Chalk up the victory there to Cuaron, his cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, and editing partner Alex Rodgriguez. Through a combination of tightly directed action sequences that rely almost exclusively on handheld cameras and up-close-and-personal angles, it's hard not to feel directly in the thick of the action. It's incredibly intimate violence that's extremely effective, and never glorified. The set designs are equally laudable, portraying a fantastically ugly rendition of London that makes V for Vendetta's future look dreamy in comparison. Every new place that Faron happens upon looks like it's been utterly given up on. Trash litters the streets, graffiti displays a wide variety of political messages on every available wall, and even the cars people drive look like they've been put through the wringer.
In one scene, Faron and Kee walk through an abandoned elementary school. It's kind of a hammer-over-the-head emotional moment as you see the place overgrown with weeds, and local wildlife running through the hallways that children once occupied. Still, it's one of many brilliantly affecting images strewn throughout the film that truly capture the level of despair in this future.
If there's any complaint to be lobbed at Children of Men, it's that it's hard to decipher its greater meanings, beyond the bluntest and most specific messages of hope and political cautions. The film's message on immigration is practically painted on the screen in gigantic neon lettering, and as a modern nativity story for both the religious types and the secular crowd alike, there's no denying the film's effectiveness in championing the value of human life. But there are lots of other touched-upon themes and concepts within the film that never get fully explored. There are dabblings in suicide, abortion, religion, and such, but you get mere glimpses of these things, and never quite grasp where exactly the film stands on any of them.
Likewise, even the script's own lore is never fully explored. You never find out why women are infertile, nor do you discover how Kee managed to become the new Mary. The science of the film seems utterly fascinating, but for the sake of the chase, all these things are left as mere ideas in passing. At a mere hundred minutes, we're barely given a moment to catch our breath in this movie, let alone pontificate about what has actually created such a ghastly future. While the pacing is excellent for what the film wants to be, a moment or two to stop and think out loud about a few more of its concepts would have been greatly appreciated.
Still, in a film this lovingly crafted and wonderfully energetic, a few glossed-over concepts can be forgiven. Cuaron and cast come together in Children of Men to create one of the most thoughtful action movies you'll ever see. It's equally electrifying and philosophic, a beautifully sullen film that manages to uplift, even in the face of constant and seemingly insurmountable adversity. And what ultimately makes it so engaging is the knowledge that these same sorts of adversities and atrocities could very well be in our not-too-distant future. The worry of such a destitute future becoming a reality is palpable throughout the film, but so is the hope that we're capable of avoiding it.
This is the premise of Children of Men, the brilliant new action flick-cum-social drama from Y Tu Mama Tambien and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban director Alfonso Cuaron. Oddly, this premise isn't even what necessarily drives this film away from being just another cautionary look at the not-so-nice near future, though it's an intriguing premise for sure. Painting a picture of a childless future is certainly a more interesting way of creating a dystopian future than the sorts of broad stroke governmental evilness you find in most 1984 wannabes these days (V For Vendetta, for example). Ultimately, what turns Children of Men into more than just a depressing piece of near-future sadness is Cuaron's incredible direction, and a more effective than average underlying message of hope.
Clive Owen, who quite frankly should be the biggest British actor working in Hollywood right now, turns in a fantastic performance as a downtrodden bureaucrat treading through the muck of modern English society in 2027. England is evidently one of the last bastions of the "civilized" world, and because of that, the country is besieged with illegal immigrants trying to escape the horrors of, well, everywhere else. The autocratic government has pulled the plug on all immigration, rounding up anyone without proper papers and caging them like animals. Along the way, activists (or terrorists, take your pick) fight with the government, blowing things up for the sake of getting some kind of message across. Owen's Theodore Faron evidently used to be one of these activists, but nowadays he's content to get through his days with mild alcoholism, a general disinterest in anything related to his work, and occasional trips out to the country to visit his old hippie buddy Jasper (played to gleeful perfection by Michael Caine).
One day, Faron's old life crashes back into him when he's kidnapped by the Fishes, the number one terrorist group in England. As it happens, the Fishes are led by Faron's ex-wife, Julian (Julianne Moore), and she needs Faron's help. A "fugee" (illegal immigrant) girl named Kee needs transport papers to get to a boat. It turns out that Kee is inexplicably the first pregnant woman in 18 years, and a Super Friends-like group of the world's best scientists known as the Human Project want to get a look at her and figure out how she and she alone is somehow able to propagate the species. What follows is a dizzying, terrifying, and ultimately inspiring chase to get her through the pitfalls of a broken society, and into the hands of possibility.
From the moment Kee's secret is discovered, everything basically goes to hell. In fact, things go to hell from practically the opening shot. We discover everything we need to know about this failing world through a few quick news clips, including one describing the recent assassination of the world's youngest person, an 18 year old boy from South America. The way we watch as people gasp and break down at the news of this boy's death, just as many did when Princess Diana passed away, is extremely telling of just how priorities in this new world have shifted. As Owen wanders around London, bombings, vandalism, and all other manner of chaos seem to just be the norm. It's a vivid portrait of a society gone to hell, and Cuaron dresses it up perfectly, blending a variety of political themes and issues into this nightmarish scenario, so as to make it more than a mere "what if" piece of sci-fi fantasy.
As we get to know Faron and crew early on, the film becomes quite intriguing. There's a lot of interesting ideas introduced, future science that could be explored, and such. But as soon as Faron and Kee begin their journey to the Human Project, pretty much all form of back story is abandoned for the sake of the absolutely thrilling, and sometimes heartbreaking chase. Without spoiling what happens, there's a great deal of conflicting interest around Kee's miracle child, and the pair go through some horrific scenery as they travel. There are pieces of this movie that look like they could be set in modern-day Iraq, with war-torn streets and seemingly random outbreaks of incredible violence. Corruption, selfish interests, and many other dark facets of the human soul conspire to impede the journey, and all the while, we're on the edge of our seats, hoping for that miracle to come through.
Chalk up the victory there to Cuaron, his cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, and editing partner Alex Rodgriguez. Through a combination of tightly directed action sequences that rely almost exclusively on handheld cameras and up-close-and-personal angles, it's hard not to feel directly in the thick of the action. It's incredibly intimate violence that's extremely effective, and never glorified. The set designs are equally laudable, portraying a fantastically ugly rendition of London that makes V for Vendetta's future look dreamy in comparison. Every new place that Faron happens upon looks like it's been utterly given up on. Trash litters the streets, graffiti displays a wide variety of political messages on every available wall, and even the cars people drive look like they've been put through the wringer.
In one scene, Faron and Kee walk through an abandoned elementary school. It's kind of a hammer-over-the-head emotional moment as you see the place overgrown with weeds, and local wildlife running through the hallways that children once occupied. Still, it's one of many brilliantly affecting images strewn throughout the film that truly capture the level of despair in this future.
If there's any complaint to be lobbed at Children of Men, it's that it's hard to decipher its greater meanings, beyond the bluntest and most specific messages of hope and political cautions. The film's message on immigration is practically painted on the screen in gigantic neon lettering, and as a modern nativity story for both the religious types and the secular crowd alike, there's no denying the film's effectiveness in championing the value of human life. But there are lots of other touched-upon themes and concepts within the film that never get fully explored. There are dabblings in suicide, abortion, religion, and such, but you get mere glimpses of these things, and never quite grasp where exactly the film stands on any of them.
Likewise, even the script's own lore is never fully explored. You never find out why women are infertile, nor do you discover how Kee managed to become the new Mary. The science of the film seems utterly fascinating, but for the sake of the chase, all these things are left as mere ideas in passing. At a mere hundred minutes, we're barely given a moment to catch our breath in this movie, let alone pontificate about what has actually created such a ghastly future. While the pacing is excellent for what the film wants to be, a moment or two to stop and think out loud about a few more of its concepts would have been greatly appreciated.
Still, in a film this lovingly crafted and wonderfully energetic, a few glossed-over concepts can be forgiven. Cuaron and cast come together in Children of Men to create one of the most thoughtful action movies you'll ever see. It's equally electrifying and philosophic, a beautifully sullen film that manages to uplift, even in the face of constant and seemingly insurmountable adversity. And what ultimately makes it so engaging is the knowledge that these same sorts of adversities and atrocities could very well be in our not-too-distant future. The worry of such a destitute future becoming a reality is palpable throughout the film, but so is the hope that we're capable of avoiding it.
Posted jan 11, 2007 6:56 pm pt
