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.

Revisiting "Indy 4" or: The Nightmare I Had That One Time That Didn't Actually Happen

We all felt like we needed a shower after this one!

It appears recent casting rumors for a proposed Indiana Jones reboot are untrue. Still, that brief prospect, as well as the fan ire it inspired online, caused me to look back at the moment when the whole franchise went to pot: the fourth entry, The Kingdom of the Krystal Skull. I didn’t actually watch the film again, mind you, but reminisced about the first and only time I saw it back in May 2008. I don’t remember much, because it was a midnight screening and I zoned out after about 20 minutes. I’m pretty sure I stayed awake through the whole thing, but I wasn’t taking much in. It was like when you’re up late watching TV because you don't have the energy to get up to go to bed, and you keep tuning in and out of whatever's on the screen. If you watch an episode of a show on DVR or Netflix this way, you’d want to re-watch it the next day to make sure you didn’t miss anything. So very little of the movie remained in my memory even days later, let alone after six years.

Here are a few pieces I do remember:

• I thought it was cool how they revealed that the warehouse from the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark was Area 51, and felt a ting of delight at the glimpse at the Ark of the Covenant when a crate was broken in a scuffle between Indy (Harrison Ford) and his nemeses. I thought maybe this was a sign of a strong plot that would integrate and explore the series’ greater mythology, instead of telling another standalone story. Those hopes were soon dashed, however (underwhelming return of Karen Allen notwithstanding), and these turned out to be nothing more than Easter Eggs to remind us of the series’ better entries.

• The part of the movie that seems to be most remembered (and most derided) is the sequence where Indy survives a nuclear bomb test in a refrigerator (watch at your own risk). I actually thought it was kind of cool at the time, embarrassing as that is to admit. Then again, this is the point where my memory gets a little murky. Maybe my incoherence wasn’t the result of viewing the film late at night. Maybe this moment was so dumb that my brain subconsciously slipped into a half-asleep trance to protect me from whatever came next.

• “I Like Ike.” Indy taunts his Soviet captors using the campaign slogan of our 34^th President. I caught the line while viewing the picture, though I soon forgot about it. The only reason I remember it is because I was reminded by my sister, who saw the film in Scotland and related how she was the only one in the theater who got the joke.

• I never saw Shia LaBeouf during his days on the Disney Channel. Prior to this movie, the only things I had seen him in were Holes, a solid adaptation of Louis Sachar’s bestselling children’s novel (which I love), and the first Transformers, which could have cast any actor alongside its CGI robots. I didn’t really have an opinion going in, but his casting as Indy’s sidekick seemed to be met with derision by everyone else. This was right in the middle of his push to become the next big star, only audiences weren’t really receptive (which might explain his weird antics of late). Anyway, I only recall three small moments from his role. The first was the revelation from Karen Allen (who seemed randomly thrown in) that he was Indy’s son. There was an audible groan from the packed theater, though with more a disappointed “I knew it!” tone than one of surprise. The last was when he tries to pick up Indy’s trademark fedora, the implication being a passing of the torch. This time the audience made a collective sound that’s hard to describe, but the feeling was highly negative, to put it mildly. The moment in between, and sadly the one that sticks out the most, was a jungle chase sequence where each of his legs was standing on a different vehicle, causing him to get hit in the groin by tree after tree, and yet never once shouting or even flinching in pain. I’ll let you imagine what immature jokes were running through my high school mind.

• During one scene in a diner, a group of well-dressed 1950s college boys and a pack of leather jacket-clad greasers stare each other down before getting in a fight, for some reason. Several school friends with whom I had shared classes for many years were also in the theater, and we all thought the same thing: The Outsiders, the young adult novel by S.E. Hinton we all read in seventh grade, along with countless other English classes. The book's film adaptation was directed by George Lucas and Steven Spielberg's colleague Francis Ford Coppola, so I wouldn't be surprised if this was intended as a nod to it. I'm not a fan of the movie or the book.

• Most of the action scenes are a blur to me, but one I do remember is when the bad guys are devoured by armies upon armies of fire ants. I remember it because right away it reminded me of the flesh-eating scarabs in the 1999 remake of The Mummy. I love that movie, but there’s no doubt you could argue it’s a knockoff of Indiana Jones. But in regards to the fire ants, when you’re ripping off something that arguably ripped you off in the first place, it pretty plainly says you’re out of ideas.

• After a bunch of action, story points, and character revelations I don’t recall much of, we get to the climax, in which the eponymous Crystal Skull grows into an alien, and a temple turns into a flying saucer. I thought they should have just gone all out and made the alien a Wookiee. Why not? The film already jumped the shark with the fridge scene (hell, there was talk for a while that “nuke the fridge” would replace “jump the shark” as an entertainment idiom), so it wouldn’t have been that much more ridiculous.

When the movie came out, it seemed like people saw it immediately, most of them hated it, and it was forgotten after a few weeks. Some apparently prefer to pretend like it never happened. For me, it really does seem that way. My entire recollection consists of only a few quick, fleeting images and scenes, nothing substantial or complete. It’s like a bad dream, and can be written off as such. And that’s a good thing. I’ll never be able to watch the original Star Wars Trilogy the same way again after the prequels (doesn’t help that Lucas continues to alter the films with every new release), but Indiana Jones remains untainted. I’ll probably never watch Crystal Skull again, and no matter who—if anyone—takes over the role in a reboot, I’m not sure I’ll see it. Why spoil a good thing?

Edge of Tomorrow

Ever play a video game and get to a level that just seems impossible to beat? Everyone who’s played a game has been there. You keep dying and starting over, each time getting a little farther (and angrier). You begin to memorize where every enemy appears and are ready for them. And then one day, after playing through it so many times that you know each step instinctively and start to hate the sight of that stage, you finally beat it. And for a brief moment it’s the greatest feeling of satisfaction imaginable.

Well, Edge of Tomorrow plays out this concept onscreen. Only it doesn’t have the stark, intense emotional highs and lows because the viewer isn’t playing, only watching. The “player” (or protagonist; I'll drop the metaphor now because the plot has nothing to do with video games) is Tom Cruise, an American military officer in a not-too-distant future where most of Europe has been overrun by aliens called Mimics. His snotty entitlement gets him demoted to the first wave of the human invasion of Europe through the beaches of France (think D-Day with soldiers wearing robotic armor). The invasion fails and Cruise is killed quickly, only to awaken back at the invasion’s launch base in London 24 hours earlier. Apparently, the Mimics can travel back in time a day, and he’s somehow harnessed that power. He uses it to relive the day over and over, training and devising a plan with a hero soldier played by Emily Blunt, who also once had this power.

The obvious observation, the one that every synopsis and review seems to be making, is that the movie is like a militaristic sci-fi Groundhog’s Day. That comparison is more apt than just the basic premise. Just like Bill Murray in the classic comedy, the film plays Cruise’s repeating experiences—screwing up in all manner of ways, wowing people with his knowledge of future events—for laughs much of the time. More than for anything else, actually. It’s surprisingly much funnier and less substantial and serious than the storyline would suggest, or even than your regular brooding action picture. But when the film gets to the scenes of excitement, it uses jump cuts to indicate repeatedly resetting time. Once in a while it’s hard to tell if what’s happening is happening for the first time or not, but mostly the film has a good and clear grasp on its time games. And it doesn’t make us sit through endless repetition of the same experiences unless there's a good reason for it, thankfully.

It all makes for a pretty good time, but it’s nothing I’d call exceptional. Even with the fun time travel structure and cool soldier suits, a lot of the battles are of the basic shaky-cam-and-explosions variety (and the beach-storming in the suits never lives up to the massive scale suggested in the initial building shots). The Mimics are rather unimaginative mashes of bio-mechanical tentacles and light. But my biggest gripe is that the final act settles for a rather standard action sequence, instead of taking advantage of its premise to give us something really imaginative. The movie uses its premise to great effect up until then, but disappointingly, there’s no mind-blowing sci-fi payoff like, say, Cruise’s 2002 film Minority Report.

But, Edge of Tomorrow is still a lot of fun. Cruise still has a movie star’s charisma to carry it, and Blunt and the supporting cast are up to the job, especially Bill Paxton, hilarious as a platoon leader. It’s a good B-movie with an A-level cast and production values. 

Maleficent

Even the Disney classics, it seems, aren’t immune to the gritty reboot syndrome. Then again, if they’re going to go back and redo their past works, Sleeping Beauty isn’t a bad choice because, despite its reputation, it’s not one of the company’s better animated features. Think I’m wrong? Watch it again. The animation is amazingly beautiful for the time and still holds up today. But the film moves at a snail’s pace, and doesn’t have the catchy music, funny moments, or lively, memorable characters of the best Disney pictures before or since.

So Maleficent is in a curious spot. It has the aesthetic that seemingly fits the “bigger doesn’t mean better” critique. But then, it is an improvement on the original Sleeping Beauty. But it’s better not because it’s bigger, but because the story is rewritten from a more interesting angle. But it’s still not quite a success in that regard, and is an average film that merely looks very good.

Many things happen that are quite similar to the 1959 picture: Angelina Jolie’s title character puts a curse on King Stefan’s (Sharlto Copley) newborn daughter, which will cause her to prick her finger and fall into a deep sleep on her 16^th birthday. But it explains that it was not out of pure evil, but revenge: you see, young Maleficent (Ella Purnell) and Stefan (Michael Higgins) were best friends until he betrayed her to become king of the human realm, which caused her to turn bad. While watching over the Princess (Elle Fanning) over 16 years, however, old Maleficent starts to have a change of heart and begins to care about the girl.

It’s a better take on the story, yes, but it’s still not very substantial, at least not enough for a whole movie. For every moment the narrative actually has some substance and emotion to it, there's at least one long, dragging scene. And even those don’t make up the entire runtime. To fill the film out, there are some darker moments, but only dark meaning “lots of CGI fighting and monsters,” not dark as in imaginative or edgy. Beyond boring and derivative, it just seems intrusive. Can you imagine if Disney added pumped-up fantasy violence into, say, Alice in Wonderland? Oh wait...

The best moments are when the movie acts like a regular children’s fairy tale. In that respect, it’s somewhat successful. The sets and some of the CGI creatures and landscapes look good, if not especially real. There are some fun and funny moments from Sam Riley as Jolie’s shapeshifting lackey and Imelda Staunton, Juno Temple, and Lesley Manville as the British fairy equivalent to the Three Stooges. Copley and Fanning are solid if slight in their roles. Jolie, however, is disappointing. She looks the part, but never really makes the character into someone you love watching onscreen even though they’re supposed to be the bad guy. The only time she really sells it is in the recreation of the character’s grand entrance, which you can see in the trailers. The rest of the time, it looks like she’s phoning it in. Also, if you’ve seen Frozen, you can kind of predict the ending, which took me right out of the climax (not that it was good, just an incomprehensible action scene).

This one’s probably adequate entertainment for the kids. But the reason Disney movies are so loved, I think, is because the studio has a real knack for making entertainment truly for all ages. Adults can enjoy their films as much as kids, not just because of nostalgia but because they’re that well done. Usually, but not this time.