Hercules

“What a load of crap!” So exclaims a nameless pillager in the first few minutes of Hercules, rudely interrupting the opening prologue detailing the mythological hero’s godly lineage and legendary feats. He and his ilk are nonetheless soon dispatched by the film’s namesake (Dwayne Johnson) and his allies, but he still sets the tone of the entire movie. There are no gods or fantastical happenings in this telling of the legend, no serious tone or conflated sense of honor. In fact, several fabled figures, creatures, and events are blatantly scoured of all their mythic feel, and replaced with action clichés and smartass attitude. It’s very ridiculous. But no more ridiculous than Clash of the Titans or 300, and those movies took everything seriously (by action flick standards, at least). Hercules is many times more fun than either of them because it doesn't.

In this version of the story, all the legends of the eponymous hero (being the son of Zeus, his 12 labors) are exaggerated to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. In reality, he’s the leader of a ragtag band of mercenaries (all of whom are based on characters of Greek myth, and all similarly brought down to Earth). For their last payday before they retire to start a normal life, they are hired by the King of Thrace (John Hurt) to train their army to defeat a rival faction in a civil war. As they prepare for battle, Herc is haunted by nightmares of the deaths of his wife and children, which are something of a mystery.

I counted a few action clichés in that description, and the movie has more of them. A lot more. It’s also extremely predictable if you’ve seen just about any action movie, any at all. But it works because it’s as much of a comedy as it is an action movie, maybe more. The battles and sword-fighting teeter between slapstick comedy and cartoon, the physical feats of strength are so sublimely, hilariously excessive. And when the dialogue doesn’t consist of wisecracking, every supposed-to-be-serious exchange is delivered with brooding and yelling that’s gloriously terrible as only talented actors are capable of.

Everyone knows just how goofy a picture they’re in and hams it up accordingly. Johnson in the title role is the most perfect physical casting since Arnold Schwarzenegger as Conan, but it’s his sense of humor that makes him so fitting as this particular Hercules. The villains chew the scenery quite well, and Herc’s merry band of sidekicks add great banter and comic relief. Especially Ian McShane as a wisecracking, stoned-looking seer who’s very bad at his job (the only thing is he made me wish a little bit for an R-rating; not only could excessive gore have possibly been even funnier, but there’s a few occasions where McShane resurrecting some Deadwood-level swearing just might have been appropriate).

The film’s not as fully developed, or as imaginative and exciting, as many action pictures out there, or even the best in Johnson’s repertoire (including the similarly ridiculous The Scorpion King). But it’s light and good fun, all the more so because it’s not only unserious, but seemingly intent on being that way. It’s definitely not the best blockbuster of the summer, but it could be the funniest.

Monty Python Live (Mostly)

The five remaining members of comedy legends Monty Python are all in their seventies. Reuniting at this point kind of stinks of desperation, of one last attempt to squeeze a little money out of their legacy (those are Terry Gilliam’s words, not mine). But you wouldn’t get that idea from their supposedly final show, performed in London on Sunday and streamed in theaters around the world.

The production, the last of ten shows at London’s O2 Arena, is basically a greatest hits package of the troupe’s sketches. Classics like the Dead Parrot, the Argument Clinic, the Spanish Inquisition, and the Lumberjack song are of course included, along with a few great bits one might not expect (the Exploding Penguin, anyone?). Peppered throughout are musical numbers, celebrity cameos (one in particular surprising and very funny), and bumpers containing Gilliam’s animations and old filmed segments.

As for the “new” stuff the promotional materials promised? Well, it’s mainly just extensions and slightly different adaptations of material we’ve seen before, mostly in the form of large, elaborate, extremely dirty musical numbers. With these, there are some hits (“Every Sperm is Sacred” gets taken to a hilariously vulgar extreme, and a classy ballet routine devolves in a way too funny spoil) and…well, “miss” might be too hard a word, but they're a little unnecessarily inflated. All’s forgivable, however, as they mostly act as transitions between sketches, rather than stealing the spotlight.

The show works best when things are kept small, as the Pythons plow through the old favorites. It’s no mere retread with them tiredly going through the motions, either; the old masters are as funny and capable as ever, and visibly having a grand old time. It’s also quite amusing seeing them muff a line or break out laughing (it is live, after all), or ad lib away from the scripts fans know by heart. Admittedly, it seems like something’s missing without the late Graham Chapman (not that the other five don’t do a good job filling his shoes, but a few roles he played are hard to imagine anyone else filling), though the still-living Pythons pay respects to their fallen friend at several points.

This show is by no means essential viewing, as all of it’s been done. And it probably won’t appeal to anyone other than the fans. For those people, though, this final sendoff (for the time being) makes for a fun few hours.

Monty Python Live (Mostly) will be replaying in select theaters this Wednesday and Thursday.

Snowpiercer

Snowpiercer is a rather odd picture. But that’s definitely a good thing. This summer has so far provided another glut of sequels, reboots, and generally a lot more of the same. So a new idea from outside the Hollywood box—not just figuratively but literally, as despite the English spoken and Western stars, the film is from South Korea—is a welcome change. Come to think of it, maybe it’s just a very good and original idea, and it only seems weird because we’re so used to Hollywood recycling old things that any new idea seems strange.

That idea: in the near future, an attempt to combat climate change leads to the world being engulfed in an ice age. The last surviving humans live on a train that circles the world and never stops. Passengers’ social class is determined by their proximity to the engine (the cars closer to the front of the train are the upper class, while the tail is occupied by the poor). After years of living in squalor with little food or necessities, a charismatic young rebel (Chris Evans) leads the tail-dwellers in a revolt to take over the rest of the train, car by car.

Basically, the film boils down every post-apocalyptic archetype to a small, contained scale, and does so very inventively. Tons of little elements sprinkled throughout suggest how the people live and how society functions under such a scenario. A rich, well-thought-out little world is suggested both upfront and in the background or fleeting dialogue. Admittedly, not all of it is plausible, and although the plot attempts to explain how the train came to be, neither is the overall concept. But the movie knows that. Whenever it seems to be getting too serious, it unexpectedly detours into some stark, surprising black comedy. For all the dark, dystopian stuff and class-conscious allegory that’s as subtle as a sledgehammer, the picture isn’t above poking fun at itself by knowingly taking its concept as far-out as it can.

Every new car the heroes take brings an interesting new surprise, sometimes thrilling, sometimes funny, and sometimes just out-there. The special effects are solid, and though the action is on a (necessarily) much smaller scale, director Bong Joon-ho gives us kinetic martial arts and gunplay that can stand next to any big-budget Hollywood product. South Korean stars Song Kang-ho and Go Ah-sung and familiar Western faces like John Hurt, Octavia Spencer, Tilda Swinton, and Ed Harris all fill their roles well, but the one who makes the picture is Evans above all. He’s already proven he can play goofier comic leads (Fantastic Four) and pure righteous heroes (Captain America). Here, he plays a darker, more tortured and intense hero. And yet, through all these roles he still seems like a relatable everyman. I’ve yet to see him in a role outside the action movie spectrum, but within it, he’s certainly got range.

The ending, without spoiling anything, doesn’t quit bring things to a full conclusion, but then neither do all the summer blockbusters with the intent to spawn more sequels. The difference is that up until then, Snowpiercer is creative and clever, not derivative and lazy. It proves that mindless entertainment doesn’t need to be completely without a brain.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

The reboot Rise of the Planet of the Apes finally gave us realistic apes, not humans in ape makeup like the series featured previously. The ape protagonist Caesar, created digitally through motion capture by the great Andy Serkis, was an impressive feat of visual effects. The movie around him, however, didn’t quite work. I can’t quite put a finger on one particular reason, but I think it’s because it seemed like a prologue to a bigger story needlessly stretched out to a full picture’s length. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes gets to the meat of the storyline, and the technical marvels are taken a step or two further. The result is not merely a superior sequel, but a film that finally deposes the original classic starring Charlton Heston as the best entry in the Apes saga (though let’s be honest: a few parts of the original were laughably silly). 

Dawn takes place a few years after a virus (the creation of which was depicted in Rise) has killed most of the humans on Earth. We then find out Caesar and other intelligent apes have formed a society in the woods of Northern California. After years of no contact with mankind, a few human survivors stumble upon the apes’ home. Their aim is to reactivate an old dam nearby to provide power for a community of remaining humans in the ruins of San Francisco. Caesar, the leader of the apes, cautiously tries to help them and maintain peace between the two races. But one of Caesar’s lieutenants (Toby Kebbell) has a strong hatred for humans, and tries to incite a war between man and ape.

The scope doesn’t quite yet encapsulate the entire planet, opting instead for just a small part of it (more like Region of the Apes). But keeping things on a smaller scale allows more time for character moments. Specifically, the apes. Famous faces like Jason Clarke, Keri Russell, and Gary Oldman are adequate enough, but the humans exist mostly as plot impetuses. The real stars of the picture are the apes, brought to vivid, compelling life by the best motion capture performances I’ve yet seen in a movie. You might recall that Serkis’ performance as Gollum in The Lord of the Rings ignited a debate about whether or not such performances should be considered “real” acting (and awarded as such). The work by Serkis and the ensemble of ape portrayers in this film settles the debate: absolutely they deserve recognition. Their broad movements and simian acrobatics are as convincing as the real thing, but small, simple things like facial tics and movements exhibit a whole range of human emotions. And therein lies the hearty science fiction content.

The picture has typical summer movie action (decently done instead of overly flashy and incoherent, too), but its brainier stuff is what’s most compelling. Nearly silent opening exposition scenes of the society the apes built recall the beginning of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001, only the apes are further along in the evolutionary chain. They’re becoming more human. But attaining humanity means, along with the higher intellect, they also gain all the human race’s negative qualities, like emotions, fears, and prejudices. This tragic irony plays out to an uncertain conclusion, perched between grim and hopeful, as real human conflicts often are.

The action elements never overshadow the scientific elements, though in a few cases, they do seem to rush them along a little too much. And things become a little less plausible as the apes go from communicating mostly nonverbally with only a few spoken words to quite chatty by the end (not to mention that action movie one-liners and Hollywood schmaltz are no less corny in the apes’ broken English). These are minor, forgivable flaws, however, compared to what the film has in its favor. It’s a smart blockbuster, and one of the few reboots that takes full advantage of its clean slate and comes up with great new ideas.