Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The new reboot of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles might actually be worse than the Transformers movies. I’m not sure if it’s any worse on a filmmaking level (I’m not going to waste time examining the particulars of two awful films), but what the movie does to the legacy of the Turtles is much more painful. The myriad Transformers animated series were not very good, basically half-hour commercials for the toy line. Ninja Turtles was likewise a merchandizing cash cow, but it wasn’t just a blatant ploy to sell stuff to kids. The franchise actually began as a clever and popular comic book, and the media it spawned—cartoons, movies, highly acclaimed video games—had a certain fun quality for kids and adults. So it hurts more to see the series get the Michael Bay (mis)treatment.

Bay is only a producer here (with Jonathan Liebesman sitting in the director’s chair), but the movie’s still got all his trademarks: image oversaturation in every shot, incomprehensible CGI-packed action, headache-inducing rapid cuts and shaky cam, and, like Transformers, awful-looking digital characters. Yes, the Turtles up-close are as ugly as the Internet has complained, while their mentoring rat Splinter (voiced by Tony Shalhoub) looks like he was lifted from a 3D cartoon. This seems like a moot point to complain about, however, because even the characters who are real flesh and blood just become blurs in the muddled computerized mayhem of the action scenes, of which there are many.

Surprisingly, though, that’s not the worst thing. That would be the fact that for a while, the Turtles are barely in the movie, and the main character arc is not theirs. Instead, much of the time and story follows their reporter ally April O’Neil (Megan Fox), whose backstory gets retooled to give her a bigger part in their origin. This prevents the film from working as a dumb, turn-off-your-brain special effects movie, as the story portions are very boring and inane. Fox, at least, is no longer just a skimpily dressed object to leer at like in Transformers (in fact, the movie even lampoons this in one scene), but she is still not a very good actress.

This isn’t the only way the plot gets outsourced to the human characters. In spite of everything, the Turtles start to develop some humorous charm as characters in the second half. But, they have to compete with O’Neil’s cameraman (Will Arnett) for comic relief. Even worse, the classic villain Shredder (Tohoru Masamune) only exists as a digital effect to participate in fights scenes. Instead, the main bad guy as far as the plot goes is William Fichtner, playing one of the most generic supervillains ever. The result is that the main narrative conflict seems completely detached from the fighting, which drains any sort of dramatic depth or excitement from either. It’s like watching the story and exposition scenes of one movie and cutting in the action scenes from a completely different one.

There’s a few fleeting references to the franchise’s past that old fans will probably notice, but even these reek of pandering and insincerity. If they really respected the series and its fans, the filmmakers could have made a picture that honors its legacy while creatively reimagining it, rather than merely paying a little lip service while turning out such a noisy, ugly, stupid film. Even though the franchise has seen some very low points, none of them are as completely unappealing as this.

A Most Wanted Man

What made the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman such a skilled actor is the fact that his roles weren’t so much performances as portraits of human behavior. Think about it: there really isn’t a single defining scene or one specific monologue that stands out in even his best roles. That’s because he always mastered the little things about his characters: their habits and behaviors, their subtle quirks, the way they interact with people. An actor might normally convince the audience through dynamic action and delivery. Hoffman could simply occupy the scene in character, and there was never a shred of disbelief (and he could often take over a scene even if he shared it with a much broader performer).

His approach made his characters seem like real people instead of fictional creations, much easier to believe and more compelling to follow through a narrative. Such made him the perfect fit for the protagonist of A Most Wanted Man, which is less a thriller than a portrait of 21^st Century espionage.

The man of the title refers to a Chechen refugee seeking asylum in Hamburg (Grigoriy Dobrygin), who also happens to be the heir to a fortune. A fortune which, veteran German intelligence agent Günther Bachmann (Hoffman) thinks, might be attractive to jihadist financers. Unbeknownst to the sickly immigrant, Bachmann seeks to use him as bait to trap an alleged terrorist supplier, which means gaining the cooperation of a banker (Willem Dafoe) and a civil rights lawyer (Rachel McAdams), as well as German higher-ups and an American agent (Robin Wright) who prefer to deal with things less delicately.

The film has the expected authenticity of being based on a novel by literary spy master John le Carré. There are no explosions or shootouts, or even scenes that start pumping viewers’ adrenaline. In fact, there’s not even really a mystery to the plot. It’s instead the mundane side of the spy game, the unglamorous grunt work of it. But it’s an arresting look at how agencies operate. And having Hoffman be our guide through the tangled process makes it seem realer, not some disconnected piece of entertainment like Bourne or Bond.

Everyone else is solid in this film (lackluster accents from the non-German cast aside), but it’s Hoffman’s show without a doubt. Driven but understated, he gives us a man to whom the regular nature of spying—gathering intelligence discreetly, convincing (manipulating) citizens to become allies—is simply routine. It’s his job, and while he still does it well (masterfully, actually, as convincing as the real thing), to him it’s almost monotonous. But while his sentiment is gone, he at least maintains some sort of morality. He tries to earn trust and keep his word when he can…only for the picture to remind us just how hard that can be amidst agent egos and agency pressure and bureaucracy.

It is a little melancholy knowing that you’re watching one of Hoffman’s last performances. But it’s more respectful to him, I think, to judge the work on its merits alone, not because it happened to turn out this way. Besides, with his talent, the man didn’t need such pity, and neither does the movie.

Guardians of the Galaxy

This is, without a doubt, the most slapdash and ridiculous film yet in the Marvel film catalog. And it knows it. But being in on the joke and playing along is not enough to give it a pass. I realize I recently recommended another movie for being knowingly ridiculous while I’m criticizing this one for the exact same reason. Maybe it’s because that one was completely a comedy, while this still takes some of its parts seriously. Perhaps Guardians of the Galaxy should have likewise gone all out. On second thought, I have no idea how it could have been any more ridiculous, but I do know it probably wouldn’t have been a good thing.

I’ll probably lose some nerd cred for this, but I have no idea what exactly is happening onscreen. You might think this is because these heroes and their antagonists aren’t as big of household names as Marvel characters like Iron Man or Captain America, but that’s not all of it. Every other Marvel film made time to properly introduce its characters and familiarize viewers with their origin stories. In other words, they took into account the fact that people who weren’t familiar with the comics might be in the audience.

Not this one. In this case, the audience is dropped right into a complicated conflict and just left to try to figure it out on their own. All that is clear is that a ragtag group of heroes—human space pirate Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana), vengeful alien Drax the Destroyer (Dave Bautista), mouthy, gun-slinging raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), and walking, talking tree Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel)—are searching for a mystical orb that is wanted by treasure hunters, collectors, and parties from both sides in a galactic war. To anyone who isn’t familiar with the comics, all the new planets and character names come off as just gibberish. It feels like a low-rent Star Wars knockoff painted over with brighter colors.

There’s eye candy galore in the film. But going with that metaphor, what happens when you eat too much candy? Well, the equivalent effect happens watching the film, nearly resulting in sensory overload (the picture isn’t nearly as bad as the legendarily awful Batman & Robin, but its garish colors make that movie look like a muted, understated spectacle). It doesn’t help that it seems like it was shot with 3D in mind, as there are several layers to many shots that look like they’re meant to pop off the screen at different levels. Declining the few extra bucks for a pair of glasses means all the imagery is smushed into one layer that’s too busy for the eye to take it all in. This happens quite a bit, and hampers a lot of the action, some of which is otherwise well done and imaginative.

And yet, in spite of all this, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t laugh. The heroes, as well as a few supporting players, are all very funny. Especially well cast are Pratt as the whip-smart sarcastic lead and Bautista as the straight man who’s so serious that he hilariously lacks all tact. The arguing among the characters brought some loud and frequent fits of laughter, so much that it drowned out nearly half the dialogue in a few scenes.

The characters almost save the picture. Maybe it’s even worth seeing just for them. But the movie around them is still pretty dumb and convoluted, both in narrative and aesthetic. Plus, the soundtrack of dated 70s and 80s pop gets annoying. Seriously, pop culture, those decades are long gone! Get over it!

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.