Tag: Universal Pictures

  • Movie Review: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)

    Movie Review: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)

    Hiding within Snow White and the Huntsman is something sleek and subversive, a forward-thinking fairy tale concerned with gender politics, something both of and for its time. It’s so well-secluded, however, that to continue on in that vein would mean entirely forgetting about the film’s title characters and focusing on its villain, which isn’t likely to happen in even the best summer blockbusters. The villain, after all, is just a crutch by which a less-than-interesting protagonist is supported, and while Rupert Sanders‘ retelling of Snow White flirts with crafting a staggeringly effective evil queen, the strength of Charlize Theron’s initial performance gives way to your usual bad guy platitudes, culminating in your typical CGI “epicness.”  (more…)

  • Movie Review: Wanderlust (2012)

    Movie Review: Wanderlust (2012)

    Wanderlust is nothing if not a comedy of its time, which bites both ways. Considering that we’re still struggling through the Great Recession, it makes sense that a well-to-do New York couple would find themselves cast out of their pricey West Village microloft, shunned by the baristas at their high-priced coffee shops, and cast out from their cramped, hectic corner of the American dream. It also makes sense that, with their backs against the wall, the two would leave the city, seeking employment (and enlightenment) elsewhere. When Wanderlust kicks, it’s because the weight of the world doesn’t merely bear down on George (Paul Rudd) and Linda (Jennifer Aniston); it crushes them. (more…)

  • Movie Review: Battleship (2012)

    Movie Review: Battleship (2012)

    The first thing you notice about Battleship is that it, unlike the three Transformers movies and one G.I. Joe film that came from the same Hasbro toy universe, features real characters. Archetypes who travel well-worn, shamelessly-predictable arcs, maybe, but characters nevertheless. This happens to be the film’s chief achievement. A movie based on a board game where the only “characters” are the people playing it has somehow spawned more recognizably emotional beings than films centering on a clans of Earth-protecting robots and soldiers, both of which had an inherent advantage over this toy-turned movie: Their characters already had names and built-in fanbases.

    But maybe that’s part of the reason why I enjoyed Battleship more than its action figure counterparts. Biblically speaking, to know a thing’s name is to own and hold dominion over it, and while I was never a great fan of the Transformers or their flesh-and-blood cousins-in-arms, the Joes, one expects more from an “Optimus Prime” or a “Cobra Commander” than can be reasonably expected from “Alex Hopper.” All you can say about Alex Hopper is that he’s got a clean-cut, all-American action hero’s name if ever there was one, rivaled perhaps only by his brother’s: Stone.

    I mention that Battleship features two brothers, and you can likely guess from the movie’s rather unambiguous title that the Navy is involved. Based solely on their names, you can likely surmise that Stone (Alexander Skarsgård) is the family’s resident hero, a stalwart defender of America’s seas, and that Alex (Taylor Kitsch), while a nice guy, is a bit of a screw-up. One night, the two brothers are hanging out in a bar when the incredibly attractive Samantha (Brooklyn Decker) walks in, hungry for a chicken burrito. When the bar refuses her service, Alex, already in full-blown puppy love with her, dutifully breaks into the convenience store across the street. His brother gives him an ultimatum: Clean up and join the Navy, or drift. He chooses the Navy, little knowing that—surprise!—the admiral (Liam Neeson) is Samantha’s father.

    But life—and extraterrestrial, extinction-level events—has a way of interfering with American love stories, and when a signal is beamed into deep space, an alien armada responds. Lacking the means to communicate back to base, they set-up shop around the Hawaiian island upon which the deep space satellites are installed. A force field goes up, cutting a number of ships off from the main fleet, who’d conveniently been participating in a series of war games. Also trapped in the field: Samantha, who is a physical therapist assigned to the rehabilitation of a double-amputee Iraq War veteran (played by real-life veteran Gregory Gadson). The aliens, firing their seemingly unstoppable arsenal at anything that moves, manage to kill Stone. Samantha and the vet, hiking up the mountain, discover the aliens in the midst of their taking over the satellite. The goal here is pretty obvious: Stop the aliens from destroying the planet.

    And really, there’s not much keeping the heroes from doing just that. Sure, the aliens have superior technology and aren’t above sending their spinning engines of death onto the highways and little league baseball fields of this great land, but Battleship is a big believer in American resiliency. Outgunned, outmanned, and with several clear disadvantages, the heroes merely need to survive until the inevitable point where the invading force realizes its role as Hollywood’s number one metaphor for American superiority and summarily allow themselves to get blown up real good.

    Taylor Kitsch, as he proved in the better, similarly unseen John Carter, is a perfectly good action movie hero. Battleship gives him less to chew on than John Carter did, settling to throw narrative softballs his way, but it is hardly his fault that the film cozies up to the Art of War, leaving him to misinterpret its meaning while abdicating his responsibilities to other sailors. Those around him consider his actions great leadership, but it’s pretty clear that Alex Hopper has been giving up responsibiltiy his whole life.

    Kitsch fares better than the rest of Battleship’s cast, with the exception of the disabled veteran and the surprise that enters the film in the third act, ready and willing to save the day. Liam Neeson, as is becoming commonplace in this sort of bloated faux-epic, stands there, grim and imperious. Rihanna is the movie’s token badass. When a skeleton crew take a rubber boat out to a wrecked alien warship, she’s there. When a missile is fired or a trigger is pulled, she’s the one with something cool to say, her expletives drowned out by explosions, of course.

    It’s merely a guess, but I suppose the characters in Battleship are vacuous on purpose. If you’re the kind of person who shows up early enough to movies to catch the near half-hour of commercials that get played before the trailers, you’ve no doubt noticed the ad that thanks the Navy on behalf of the cast and crew of Battleship for their assistance in the production of the film. Despite the fact that we’re dealing with a board game adaptation involving extraterrestrials with impossible weaponry, every effort was made to present the naval combat within the movie as the real deal because Battleship, like many recent films and first-person shooters involving warfare, serves more as a long-form advertisement for the armed forces than as a mindless, harmless summer entertainment.

    Battleship supposes that you, the virile young man, may be a good candidate for the United States Navy. You may have screwed up somewhere in life. Dropped out of high school. Stolen a chicken burrito. But you are strong. You can change. You are more than capable of fighting The Enemy. It’s good work. It will teach you responsibilities. Respect for your superiors. It can be fun, Battleship says, even when the work is deadly serious. You can be Alex Hopper, ex-screw-up. Respect and love from the Liam Neesons and Brooklyn Deckers can be yours, supposing you want it.

    But this is where Battleship falters, as its gung-ho patriotism is the sort of thing that’ll sink even the best action movies, regardless of the cast, direction, or staging involved. Americans have had it pounded into their heads for over 200 years now that we’re the world’s last and best defense, and if this hasn’t been something overtly stated by a President, it’s been the message of our action movies. The genre was once dominated by lone wolves with personal vendettas, impossible musclemen with a strange charisma and an unlimited arsenal. Now action films have an increasingly blander template. They want to deal with terrorism but can’t do so implicitly, as the middle east increasingly becomes a place to market films. They involve characters from the countries most likely to see the film, but they come from the same stock and act the same way that the film’s white protagonist does. If the movie has any room for civilians or academics, they are almost always weak and in need of rescue.

    That’s not to say that Battleship revels in these stereotypes, because it isn’t. The movie is too preoccupied with blowing things up to notice that it is marching in lockstep with the other Hasbro movies and other alien invasion films of its ilk. It is a louder, brasher take on Skyline and Battle: Los Angeles and, as such, manages to be more entertaining than its predecessors on the assembly line. I consider myself, perhaps egotistically, a pretty smart person, and figure that most audiences are, in fact, smarter than Hollywood figures. The past 100 years have proven that we’re more than willing to put up with a little propaganda in exchange for a few hours of entertainment. I just wish movies like Battleship weren’t so blatant about it. Were the whole movie as loose and fun as its third act reveal, we’d be getting somewhere. Instead, here is the same army movie you see every year, this time on boats. The formula doesn’t work like it used to.

    Rating: 

    Battleship. Directed by Peter Berg. With Taylor Kitsch (Alex Hopper), Alexander Skarsgård (Stone Hopper), Brooklyn Decker (Samantha), Rihanna (Petty Officer Raikes), and Liam Neeson (Admiral Shane). Released May 18, 2012, by Universal Pictures.

  • Movie Review: The Scorpion King 3: Battle For Redemption (2012)

    Movie Review: The Scorpion King 3: Battle For Redemption (2012)

    In 2002, my father took me to see The Scorpion King because I loved wrestling and, in 2002, to a wrestling fan, there was no badder man on the face of the planet than The Rock. Had I known that The Scorpion King represented the beginning of the end of the Rock’s tenure in the WWE, I’m sure I would have felt differently, but The Scorpion King wass the sort of dumb, fun action movie I’m still cool with, where the action scenes are comprehensible and the one-liners aren’t too stupid. Believe me, though: replacing the Rock is an impossibility, a task so Herculean that even the mighty Vince McMahon, possessed of untold promotional genius, realized almost immediately the the only way to start down that particularly foolhardy road was to wait until the Rock’s disinterested, Clark Kentian double—Dwayne Johnson—was ready to descend from Witch Mountain, willing to speak about himself in the third person again. Sadly for Universal Pictures, Johnson will probably never return to the movie that made The Tooth Fairy possible, but, like Vince McMahon, they seem to have accepted that, turning the Mummy spin-off into a direct-to-DVD, Redbox-friendly franchise.

    The Scorpion King 3: Battle For Redemption is somewhat successful in that sense, the sort of time-waster determined not to bore, but without the ambition necessary to rise above its station. The one-liners are piled-on, the sidekicks oafish, the villains flamboyant and/or borrowed from a video game franchise, and the ninjas plentiful; if Scorpion King 3 were dinner, it’d be prison meatloaf. Sure, it lacks the refinement of Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol or the inventiveness of Attack the Block, but cabbage and ground chuck function perfectly well as a meal, no matter how horrible it ultimately tastes.

    Some years after the first Scorpion King, Mathayus (Victor Webster) is a broken man. Due to unseen circumstances, his kingdom is smashed and his queen is dead. As the helpful narration has it, Mathayus lives for mercenary gold and a good way to die, which lands him in the employ of Horus (Ron Pearlman), a king whose brother Talus (Billy Zane) hunts for the Book of the Dead and a queen worthy of his libidinous lifestyle. That Pearlman and Zane, dressed respectively like a monarch in a community theatre version of Shakespeare and a Halloween pirate, are as Egyptian as Abraham Lincoln is unimportant, especially considering that the Book of the Dead (“Book of the Dead” often prefaced with “Egyptian”) appears to be under lock and key somewhere in the lush jungles of Asia. If Talus gets the book, he gains the ability to summon three warriors (Dave Bautista, Kimbo Slice, and Selina Lo) of untold power. In stopping them, Mathayus is joined by the Germanic barbarian Olaf (Bostin Christopher) and Silda (Krystal Vee), the object of Talus’ infatuation.

    The plot, if you can call it that, is an endless series of double crossings and feigned double crossings. Mathayus and Olaf are working for Horus, then Talus, then they’re in it for themselves, and there’s a chance that the ghost warriors could turn on Talus as soon as they got tired of taking orders from a tacky pirate. None of Mathayus and Olaf’s schemings get beyond Mathayus insulting Olaf’s smell, but, as Adam West once said, criminals are a cowardly, superstitious lot, and hearing Olaf’s choice responses to Mathayus (his best: “I smell delicious”) is worth putting off the ultimately underwhelming throwdown between Mathayus and Zane’s scenery-chewing Talus for. Olaf, in fact, does much of the film’s heavy lifting, bashing in heads, hugging dudes, and peeing on enough ninjas’ heads to keep things moving along.

    Zane’s relentlessness is also a thing to behold. In a movie where ninjas join forces with a guy who becomes an insanely powerful mummy, his Talus is the only thing popping from the film’s immutable, all-pervasive blandness. He’s got his finger in a lot of dams, too: world domination, artifact hunting, ghost soldier commanding, Mathayus hunting, Silda seducing, and being a doer of acts most villainous. The fun Zane appeared to have making Scorpion King 3 is noticeable, but not quite viral. Victor Webster, wearing a hobo beard and hoping he looks enough like the Rock to pass as him from long distances, plays Mathayus as a bump on a log, and while Krystal Vee reminds him again and again that he’s battling for redemption, it becomes clear that too many people involved in the making of this movie were battling ennui.

    And that’s the whole problem with Scorpion King 3, really. This is the third movie in a franchise spun-off to explain the origins of a bit villain from the second movie in another franchise. When The Mummy returned for another installment, it skipped out on Mathayus and the pyramids in favor of China and abominable snowmen. Granted, nobody was going to pick this up expecting something above mediocrity, something consistent and somehow significant to a franchise that’s liked enough, if not universally, but the hollowness of this particular effort really stands out. I went to a Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. restaurant once, and wandering from table to table was a man who was hired to impersonate Forrest Gump. There was an airshow that day, so the poor guy had to talk a lot about how the planes reminded him of Vietnam, which, of course, is where he got shot in the buttocks. I realized, finishing my meal in the awkward silence between my group and Forrest, that there are few jobs worse than inhabiting a character created for somebody else. The sadness of celebrity impersonation permeates Scorpion King 3, and Billy Zane is powerless to save the film from the scruffy-headed impostor who, unfortunately for him, spends much of his time moping about how he used to be a legend.  Victor Webster may be jacked and he may be tan and he may be wearing something similar to what the Rock wore in the original, but put the Rock’s words into his mouth and, as one would expect, the result is schoolyard imitation, not particularly inspired, even by a need for attention.

    Rating:

    The Scorpion King 3: Battle For Redemption. Directed by Roel Reiné. With Victor Webster (Mathayus), Billy Zane (Talus), Bostin Christopher (Olaf), David Bautista (Argomael), Kimbo Slice (Zulu Kondo), Krystal Vee (Silda), and Ron Pearlman (Horus). Released January 17, 2012, by Universal Pictures.

  • Movie Review: The Thing (2011)

    Movie Review: The Thing (2011)

    Forget, for a moment, that The Thing is a prequel/none-too subtle remake of John Carpenter’s 1982 The Thing, which was a masterpiece of latex and animatronics. The Thing, after all, was a remake of Howard Hawks’ 1951 The Thing From Another World, a McCarthian allegory for the secretly infectious capabilities of communism that had, at it’s source, the 1931 novella Who Goes There?, the elements of which have been mined again and again, often to rousing success. Yes, it’s moderately upsetting that, in a year where everything from Conan the Barbarian to Johnny English got a remake or a sequel, John Carpenter and Howard Hawks couldn’t escape unscathed, but if we want these things to remain sacred, we’re going to need to burn Hollywood to the ground. We can’t learn anything from that mindset.

    Instead, let’s note how The Thing is representative of the nadir in American horror films, the product of some 30 years of devolution due to the mistaken belief that the isolation at the heart of terror wasn’t what moved viewers to the edge of their seats, but buckets of blood, focus-tested plot machinations and, oh yeah, ear-piercingly loud spikes in the music. All of these things happen in The Thing, to the point where it’s a relief when the film, already under the impression that everything old is new, moves into the kitchen of the besieged Antarctic research station, where the Thing stalks its prey as if it’d morphed into a velociraptor. For two minutes, it was nice be reminded that, yes, movies have the capacity for real fear.

    Here, the discovery of an alien specimen and his (it’s never “her” in these instances) spacecraft below two miles of Antarctic ice is greeted with the sort of warm enthusiasm one expects from a classroom of bored students in the middle of a PowerPoint presentation. Kate Lloyd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), an American paleontologist, is asked along on a mission to the site by Dr. Sander Halverson (Ulrich Thomsen), who is unnecessarily built up as an unethical, slightly villainous dude with designs on unending fame for “his” discovery. You’d think that a movie aiming to massacre a group of people one by one in ways grotesque wouldn’t need a bad guy beyond the monster, but The Thing wants us to root hard for the American girl and the pack of misfits surrounding her, so Halverson is first a headstrong jerk, then a floating head awkwardly photoshopped onto a CGI conglomeration of limbs, stingers, and teeth. It is hard to register even a blip of sympathy for the men and women trapped in Antarctica; no matter how much blood flies: The word “prequel” renders the whole story non-essential, no matter which scientist is the megalomaniac with a questionable grasp on the scientific method. In fact, The Thing makes a strong case for The Thing as it’s hero. After crash-landing and taking a 1,000 year powernap, his crankiness at being woken up by an electric drill is nothing short of understandable.

    There’s really not much to discuss when it comes to The Thing. Winstead is able as the plucky paleontologist, and some of the scenes, under different circumstances, would have been quite tense. Most of the movie, though, is spent deep frying The Thing, or on second guessing party members who don’t quite understand each other. I’ve read that Winstead’s character was inspired by Ripley, from Alien, but that transformation doesn’t take place until the very end of the movie, when we’re good and ready to see the baton passed to Kurt Russell’s gang. The movie’s two most effective scenes happen right at the end. Unfortunately, they’re among the film’s most inconsequential.

    That’s a small part of why The Thing, despite the fact that it is by no means a terrible movie, represents the nadir of American horror movies. I suspect a large part of my misgivings ultimately has to do with my inability to separate The Thing and The Thing in one major department: The special effects. In a movie like this, special effects do the heavy lifting. In 1982, The Thing set a high watermark for special effects, and everything in that movie is more visceral, more convincing than what’s on display here. Having read a review or two, there seems to be the consensus that special effects today are better than they were in the 80s because of the advancements in computer technology, which has effectively rendered whole segments of special effects making useless.

    I think the people who say that the special effects are better now are wrong, for one big reason: Special effects aren’t special anymore. This has been the argument since the special edition re-releases of Star Wars, and while I appreciate the hard work and dedication that goes into rendering a monster like The Thing, I’m less impressed by the ability to point and click something into existence than by the effort exerted to make that thing exist in real time and space. You can argue that a filmmakers’ imagination is no longer shackled by physical or monetary restraint, and, to an extent, that’s true. But movies like The Thing were special because filmmakers like Carpenter refused to let what was possible get in the way of his vision. You give a team of guys a computer and no limits, and what do you get? A wriggling, incomprehensible being assembled from spare, gooey body-parts; a creature who looks incapable of even a facsimile of life.

    But this is where we’re at now. We’re over-saturated and overstimulated. Instead of doing something new, George Lucas has spent the better part of a decade adding bodies into crowd scenes and erasing puppets from his film prints. Instead of making his debut with something new and original, director Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. has sucked the marrow out of something he idolizes, because old horror movies are the only ground studios are willing to allow new faces to tread on. And yet we, the audience, apparently clamor for more of this sort of thing, eating regurgitation after regurgitation, sometimes the regurgitation of a regurgitation. It’s like they see us, too, as The Thing, as if they’ve deemed us incapable of digesting organic material. Maybe they’re right.

    Rating:

    The Thing. Directed by Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. With Mary Elizabeth Winstead (Dr. Kate Lloyd), Joel Edgerton (Sam Carter), Ulrich Thomsen (Dr. Sander Halversen), and Eric Christian Olsen (Adam Goodman). Released October 14, 2011, by Universal Pictures.