"Hardcore Henry" is Mostly a Blood-splattered Snoozefest

 

"First they made him dangerous.  Then he made us blow chunks."

Movie: Hardcore Henry

Director: Ilya Naishuller

Cast: Sharlto Copley, Danila Kozlovsky, Haley Bennett

Verdict:

A gesture of love to the first-person shooter crowd, this joint Russian-American production promises a new vision of action movies, but only delivers a choppy gimmick, devoid of all thought, purpose, or meaning, with only its black humor and the surprising charm of Sharlto Copley to hold the descent into “hardcore” failure.

In depth:

As a youth, I admit that I never took part in the digitized blood sport of first-person shooters.  Except for some playing around with Portal 2 and GoldenEye 007, I’ve been largely left cold by the worlds of Doom, Half-Life, and the like.  So maybe I’m not the best person to judge Hardcore Henry, which clearly speaks to the Xbox fans who gleefully tuck away 15 hours behind a Halo marathon and a stack of pizza boxes.  But one’s personal experiences shouldn’t dictate whether or not a movie grabs you, and I came into Henry with an open mind.  Unfortunately, this very “openness” left me quite vulnerable, for I can’t possibly count the brain cells I must have lost over those 96 minutes.  Hardcore Henry, far from being the “groundbreaking new experience” as advertised, is simply another brain-dead action sink - which would still be enjoyable had it not been for some very poor choices on the part of the film makers in direction, characterization, and the assembly of anything like a plot.

Our story takes place at some point in the future, where our hero (that’s you, if you hadn’t guess it) is floating in the obligatory Vat of Ambiguous Healing Liquid that’s a mainstay of modern Sci Fi.  He’s greeted by the beautiful scientist Estelle (Bennett), who brings the audience and the amnesiac Henry - same thing, really - up to speed: they were husband and wife, but a tragic accident required that he be rebuilt a la Bionic Man style.  After a few touching moments together, the happy couple is interrupted by Akan (Kozlovsky), a telekinetic madman who apparently funded Estelle’s operations in the hope of obtaining a cybernetic super soldier in return.  Things don’t pan out as he expected, and Henry, after a daring escape, finds himself separated from his wife and on the run from Akan’s paramilitary thugs.  With no memories and no clue as to who he is, Henry has to rely on his brutal killer instincts and a mysterious ally (Copley) to carve a bloody path back to his wife.

Best part of waking up

I’d only be exaggerating a little if I told you that my summary is about half as substantial as the movie’s own plot.  Hardcore Henry is paper-thin, even by the lax standards of the videos game genre it so faithfully apes.  To be fair, though, that isn't really a problem; it's meant to be an ode to fast, frantic, gloriously nihilistic, grindhouse violence.  No one walks into something like this expecting Citizen Kane, and anyone above a minimum level of squeamishness and the cliche storm will get a sure-fire kick out of Henry’s increasingly violent escapades.  The first person viewpoint initially adds to the thrill, for along with streamlining audience focus and putting us up close and personal with the action, it also lets us live vicariously through every gun blast and knife wound he inflicts.  Henry is a wronged man, and we’re no doubt supposed to get a sick kick out of seeing our collective avatar deliver vengeance on every baddie in sight.

But it doesn’t take long for weariness and boredom to set in.  The “inventive” cinematography trick soon reveals itself to be just that - a trick, a cheap gimmick that, while fun and interesting the first half hour or so, quickly gets old.  And nauseating; I began feeling dizzy no later than the twenty minute mark, and between the constant motion sickness and the buckets of blood spilling every other second, my stomach was screaming obscenities at me and the screen by the time it was over.  This could have been kept to a tolerable level had there been anything in front of us or in the script to hold our attentions, but the first major flaw in Naishuller’s film making soon reared its ugly head.  Beyond the first-person schtick, there really isn’t anything to this movie.  While the unique view gives us an enticing tunnel vision that could, in the right hands, be exploited for any number of shenanigans, the script is too weak to make any use of it.  “Predictable” doesn’t even begin to describe it; the story’s practically transparent, which removes any sense of anticipation, dread, or interest beyond seeing the next blood fountain.  For the more discerning action fan, this can be quite the deal breaker, since it turns the whole thing into a monotonous dancing bear circus: a mind-numbing, hyper-linear and poorly-written dime-store shoot ‘em up, with only one trick to nudge it above the rest of its miserable herd.

You'd think the pliers would be enough

This cinema torpidity rests on the film’s all-too successful mimicking of the video game experience.  Too many scenes feel stretched out just to boost the body count; too much time is devoted to long chase sequences and literally dizzying battles that do everything to shove the action down your throat, but nothing to bite back the apathy sure to creep in with so much senseless slaughter.  You might argue that this was all intentional, a “stylistic” suckiness that’s all part of the masquerade.  And in part, you’d be right.  Hardcore Henry's signature grace is that it doesn’t take itself seriously, wrapping much of its absurdity in a fine linen of black comedy.  The endless violence and crudeness, while excessive to certain tastes, is so over-the-top that it’s practically farce, and gives it a delightfully grindhouse humor that makes the otherwise offensive or sickening series of events more bearable.  But alas, even this sprinkling of dark humor is more silly than smart - at times juvenile or downright insulting, at others, too stupid to even laugh at.  Big bad Akan was a perfect example, with Kozlovsly’s acting equal parts wooden and clownish, and nearly everyone else was completely forgettable.  

The sole exception is Jimmy, Henry’s one true, if somewhat dubious, ally, played by Sharlto Copley.  It’s hard to say anything about this guy without spoiling him, but he’s the only bandage on this gaping wound of a plot.  Copley, by the nature of his role, had to wear multiple hats, and he did so with style and flare, jumping naturally into each and every one of his character's many incarnations with ease.  With Henry being a rank mute, Jimmy was the prime source of the film’s comedy, the instigator and sustainer of its “plot,” and all-around the most pleasant thing on screen at any given moment.  He’s even the center of the film's one almost touching scene, his parting lines to Henry delivered with actual feeling and meaning.  But his departure in the final act opens more constant killing, which was painfully repetitive by that point.  

Oooh!  Is this the boss fight?  Where are me power-ups?

The fact that Hardcore Henry’s action, its supposed main draw, lulls you into a state of narcolepsy by film’s end shows how poorly built it is as a whole.  The effects were literally all over the place, for a second leaving you in awe that all this came out of a 10 million dollar budget, but soon after, a bald CGI or bad prop reminds you just how cheap it really is. The first-person perspective, plus the insane violence without real meaning, joined together to disconnect me from the movie very early on.  There’s so little of substance happening that your mind can almost sit through the entire thing without processing any of it. It was a struggle just to pay attention, and trudging through more of this deadening experience was hardly a reward for my efforts.  It’s one thing to watch a fun movie that lets you kick back and not have to think deeply about it.  It’s another to be forced into a stupor by the sheer nonsense of it all, and Naishuller and company failed to make that basic distinction.

It’d be hard to call Hardcore Henry a truly terrible movie; though it’s not my cup of tea, I’m not adverse to a little mindless action.  But every filmmaker should heed the warning of making things a little too mindless.  There’s nothing in Hardcore Henry you can't get from spending a few hours watching someone’s Half-Life Let’s Play on YouTube for free.  But who knows?  It might make a good video game one day.

Grade: D

Movie Review: Spectre

 

Movie: Spectre

Directed by: Sam Mendes

Starring: Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux

Verdict:

Unapologetically cliche and gloriously “old school,” the 24th official entry into the Bond film canon doesn’t promise anything groundbreaking, but while it strays into cinema no-nos at times, it still packs enough humor, action, and old-fashioned charm to bring Craig’s run as 007 to a fun, if unimaginative, conclusion.

In depth:

I confess that I've never been much of a James Bond fan.  Far be it from me to deny anyone else their own vicarious pleasure, but I didn’t fall in line with the peculiar brand of wish fulfillment Ian Fleming’s magnum opus had been selling over the decades.  Although Skyfall, with its masterful score and surprising intellectual force, certainly coaxed a bit of interest out of me, I never saw Spectre as one of my “must sees” for this November.  I stormed the movie theater blind, having no expectation,s really, other than the sense that I’m in for an action-packed, meat-headed power fantasy.  And I was right - but as it turns out, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  Though weighed down by a plethora of minor weaknesses and a startling lack of originality, Spectre by and large delivered a fun, frenetic experience, with the expected charm and strength Daniel Craig commands as 007 on full alert, giving us more than our money’s worth.

We first spy our hero in usual Bond style - trailing an apparent evildoer through a spectacularly rendered Dia de Muertos celebration in Mexico, but not before giving a random woman (and honestly, aren’t they all random?) his obligatory token of affection before heading back out on the case.  What follows is a chase through the crowded Mexico City streets, culminating in our hero clashing with his quarry on a spinning helicopter above the sprawling.  This is where the classic, inordinately-long Bond entrance kicks in, but we’re already given an eye-opening view of what’s to come.  Daniel Craig, of course, stand strong as the supreme spy, indulging in the usual “Bond perks,” without losing one iota of his unflappable manner and surprising wit.  His responses to the random and often humorous happenings in his immediate surroundings - like falling on a conveniently placed couch while a building around him collapses, or pulling a gun-point interrogation on a mouse sneaking into his room - come off as natural and somewhat understated, avoiding the pitfall of overindulgent goofiness.  Every actor leaves his own stamp in this iconic role, and Craig will long be remembered as a man who meshed both tough guy bravado and effortless charm in a way that hasn’t been seen since Sean Connery graced the screen as “Double Oh.”

The rest of the cast left a bit to be desired, but Craig’s command of his role more than made up for it, and in either case they were at least a touch above “just enough.”  The departure of Judi Dench as M in Skyfall left an unfillable void, since she provided a near pitch-perfect foil to the traditional paragon of masculinity that is Bond.  However, the circumstances of her exit in the previous film did help kick off the current plot, giving a reason (however spotty) for Bond’s presence in Mexico.  Ralph Fiennes takes up the mantle of M16’s head in an admirable but rather textbook performance, playing as if he following a master script of beleaguered bosses, with little nuance or personality - an unpleasant surprise, considering the man’s distinguished background and obvious ability.  Unfortunately, he’s not alone, for if I were to leverage a blanket complaint about the actors as a whole other than Craig, it’s that they seemed simply to go through the motions, adding nothing to their characters beyond the bare-minimum demanded by the weight of what they represent in the Bond Mythos.  The beautiful Léa Seydoux, playing Madeleine Swann, the latest “Bond girl” and daughter of an old nemesis, is virtually interchangeable with any of her Seventies-era counterparts, although her chemistry with Craig is palpable, despite the wide gulf separating their births.  The one notable exception to this is Ben Whishew, who plays M16’s long-suffering but ever-reliable quartermaster Q with a delightful blend of awkwardness and subtle smugness that never comes off as irritating, and actually gives him a more natural rapport with Craig than anyone else in the whole film.

In any other movie, such an admission would be tantamount to a dire condemnation, a character-based foulness in the heart of Denmark, but Spectre avoids the consequences of skimping on the character development by dancing a delicate and difficult line in maintaining the status quo without sliding into staleness and decay.  This impressive accomplishment is owed to a rare triumph of plot over character, cemented by the power of the Bond mythology.  The film’s momentum is driven first and foremost by the setting, and the characterizations, though comparatively thin, at least didn’t leave me wailing and gnashing my teeth.  This balancing act would have fallen to pieces were it not for Craig and his magnetic onscreen charisma, or if his co stars had been less than average; as they stood, I was willing - even delighted - to mostly ignore the actors' shortcomings and dive into the film's manic, high-octane world.

And Spectre certainly sanctifies our good faith, putting the pedal to the metal right from the start, bouncing from Mexico City, to the M16 home in London, and Rome, all while pursuing our film’s shadowy antagonist - who turns out to be none other than Ernst Blofeld, the mysterious mastermind behind the eponymous organization who also harbors a “surprising” connection to our film’s hero.  If it seems like I’m skimping a lot on the details, it’s because I am, but trust me - there's little that can’t be seen from a mile away.  Spectre is a movie held and propelled by a startling kinesis, one that defies easy description. The eternally actified Bond moves through his mission with old school zeal and determination, and must literally be seen in order to be fully understood.  In fact, this very celebration of the “old ways” of doing things speaks out in the side plot running congruent with Bond’s mission: M16, perceived as a relic of old-world spying, risks absorption and eventual dissolution into the Joint Intelligence Service.  This leads to M engaging in dimwitted but relevant ideological battle with the  devil-in-plain-sight leader of JIS, C (played by Andrew Scott), who also advocates a technologically-based global surveillance initiative called “Nine Eyes” that will supposedly replace traditional spies like Bond on the field.  This angle in the story is handled in a maddeningly hammy and meat-headed manner, but it isn’t shoved down the viewer’s gullet, serving only to contrast the (admittedly romanticized) fun and adventure found in Bond’s unrepentantly "classic" style of espionage with the cold, sterile and potentially-abusive threat posed by more “up-to-date” methods.

Just as Spectre succeeds despite its relatively weak characters, it also somehow manages to avoid stumbling over its many other flaws; it goes without saying that there is a lot to pick apart in this film, especially its pacing at some points.  Part of the downside for being such an action-oriented flick is that the stretches between the gunfights and fisticuffs feel that much longer, though I personally didn’t find this to be an issue for most of the movie.  More notable is the polarization strewn from its self-consciously old-school flavor.  The treatment of Seydoux’s character, the blandly avuncular showing by Fiennes’ M, along with the mandatory displays of hypermasculinity, might not sit well many modern audiences - nor, I imagine, would the old-fashioned extended torture sequences that’ll have you screaming “Why don’t you just shoot him?!” at the tops of your lungs.  These are legitimate critiques, and should be weighed in any debate regarding Spectre’s cinema mettle.  However, these disturbances are minor annoyances at their very worst, and the film was so linear in its direction that even the wonky pacing between fight scenes was far less painful than if this had been a less dynamic movie.

I came into this movie as a relative 00-novice, with mostly the older works for my reference besides Skyfall, so I might not reflect the reactions of someone who grew up with or participated in the mythology on a more continuous level.  Still, for all the cliches embedded into its thick-headed veneer,  there is a firm, pitch-perfect action flick pulsing beneath, and one that hardly misses a beat where it really counts.  It may not be the best Bond film ever, or even recently, but as long as you withhold your judgements, its energetic plot will carry you along for one wild ride.

Grade: B

Movie Review: Terminator Genisys

 

Movie: Terminator Genisys

Directed by: Alan Taylor

Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jason Clarke, Emilia Clarke

Verdict:

Terminator Genisys tries to undo the damage wrought to the renowned sci-fi series by Salvation, but while the Governator adds a surprising charm to his tired role of mechanized guardian, the unwieldy time travel plot, mechanical acting, and a serious case of continuity lockout almost had me longing to hop in a time machine and reclaim my lost 126 minutes.

In depth:

I’ve long admired The Terminator for practically codifying the type of dark Cyberpunk that would eventually become such a cliche a decade or two later, so it’s no surprise that I had a strong, visceral reaction to the news that they were coming out with yet another sequel.  Like Jurassic World, Genisys has been smothering box office premieres for the past few months with a cascade of teasers that offered plenty of visuals, but very little story.  I learned well from the god-awful train wreck that was The Last Airbender to be skeptical of any preview that follows this formula, and I certainly wasn’t fond of any attempt to resurrect a franchise that may have served its purpose admirably in the past, but was now better off resting in peace.  But, then again, I had said the same thing about Jurassic World, and while I’d hardly call it a masterpiece, I was, nonetheless, pleasantly surprised.  Unfortunately, I can’t quite say the same for Genisys, for although it works reasonably well as a mindless action flick, even this meager fun is dampened by the stale acting and mind-bendingly convoluted plot.

Like its predecessor, Terminator: Salvation, our story begins in the future, where John Connor (Clarke), the ever crucial leader of the Human Resistance Movement, was set to launch the final offensive against the drone army of the homicidal A.I. system Skynet.  With him as always was a contingent of Red Shirts and the his ever-faithful right hand, Kyle Reese, played this time by actor and living crash test dummy Jai Courtney.   Admittedly, these early battles and the obligatory exposition they embodied were quite enjoyable; as a Terminator fan, I’ve always wanted to get a glimpse at the final few days leading to the future destruction of Skynet, and the time travel plot that set the mythos in motion.  Plus, all of its other soon-to-be discussed failings aside, Genisys doesn't skimp on the action one bit, and proved remarkably proficient at building tension - a key action ingredient many modern movies tend to neglect.  Jason Clarke was perfunctory as the legendary figure, his typically lazy and understated method of acting for once actually adding character by nailing down Connor as a weary, prophetic old soldier.   

On the other hand, I had an...unpleasant reaction to seeing Courtney step up as Kyle Reese. The time-traveling soldier is arguably the great cipher in the Terminator franchise, as he is pretty much the Adam to Sarah Connor’s Eve in terms of root importance to the fate of the future, and yet receives little recognition in comparison - not counting the laughable travesty that was Salvation.  However, I didn’t believe for one second that Courtney could do Reese any justice.  His acting is notoriously wooden, and I predicted that he would likely fade into the background as soon as the plot really kicked off - and sure enough, Courtney didn’t disappoint.  Throughout the first fifteen minutes or so he was barely a presence on screen, being overshadowed by Jason Clarke (yes, really) and filling more the role of a spectator than a participant.  While you may make excuses in the beginning as this being Connor's way of keeping Reese out of the action in order to preserve his own existence, this becomes impossible as the movie drags on and Courtney's stiffness and general lack of charisma grates like nails on a chalkboard.  Michael Biehn may not have been the world’s best actor, but Kyle Reese felt alive in his hands - tense, militarized and unsociable, but still very much alive.  Courtney offers nothing but a pretty face and a well-built physique, and I was both astounded and disappointed by how very little I had to think of him over the course of the film.  

Fortunately, Jai-doll’s co stars were there to help pick up the slack, though just barely.  Emma Clarke was an odd choice as Sarah Connor, but eventually an acceptable one nonetheless, storming in like a bat out of hell soon after Reese and the T-800 are deposited unceremoniously on the streets to inform the good soldier that everything he (i.e., we, the audience) was expecting is wrong.  I was displeased at what I initially thought was a shallow bid for “grrl powa,” the kind of janky, “I don’t need you to protect me!” mindset that seems tacky in a cinema climate that’s far more accepting of strong female characters, even if there’s a long way to go still.  Thankfully, the filmmakers steered her in another direction, giving a sensible reason behind her attitude and even linking it to the series-wide theme of fate and predestination - something the rest of the movie apparently forgot.  Still, Clarke plays a recovering child soldier with little depth or conviction, stifling the desperately needed level of gravitas that had always been a staple in the series, but yet seems mostly absent here.  

There was one star that didn’t fail to slap a smile on my face - and ironically, he was the one I least expected.  There was a lot of buzz both before and after Genisys’ release centered on Mr. Schwarzenegger and his status as a box office draw; his performances since his retirement from politics has been a thoroughly mixed bag in the strictest sense, with a few enjoyable surprises and a lot of trash.  To be honest, I err on the side of the neighsayers, especially since Schwarzenegger hasn’t been the engine of any big movie publicity since, and I’m being very generous here, End of Days. That said, Genisys, much like The Last Stand, shows that the aging action hero still has a certain charm and appeal that will never truly fade.  Although the Terminator character, affectionately named “Pops” in this incarnation, doesn’t allow much in range, the veteran actor knew how to exploit every cranny to either get a good laugh, like his hilariously creepy attempt to fit in by smiling, or to convey the film’s few moments of well-executed pathos. It’s sad to say that he’s the only character who evoked genuine concern over his survival from me.

So far, what I’ve described seems like the makings of a kinda fun if thoroughly "meh" movie.  So what went wrong?  It wasn’t Courtney woodenness, or Clarke’s uneasy grasp of a legacy role she can’t quite fill; it wasn’t Schwarzenegger’s faded Hollywood star, or audience apathy in the wake of yet another Terminator sequel.  In fact, it was all of these things, but wrapped in a convoluted plot that ties itself into an incomprehensibly tight knot, leaving little room for anyone who has not been following this series from the beginning.  I got my first warning sign right at the start; everything immediately after Reese followed the original Terminator through time - where both he and the killer cyborg landed, the reactions of the bystanders, and even the encounter with the hobo in the alley - mirrored the original Terminator sequence of events to the tee.  The problem is that we aren’t quite sure of the purpose for all this: is it a homage to the original film, a little inside treat for the series’ long-time fans?  Or was it a stamp of recognition, letting the viewers know that this wasn’t their parents’ Terminator?  I suspect that it was all of the above, but the execution was so clumsy that the likely result for most newcomers to the franchise was a great deal of confusion.  This, of course, is a serious problem, as a sequel - and most definitely an alternate remake - should stand on its ability to draw in new viewers who need not be versed in the series’ past lore.  Unfortunately, Genisys ignores this basic cinema principle, and I can only imagine how the rare Terminator newcomer must have felt watching it, as I know I would have been completely baffled by the inside references and their annoying prominence on the screen had I no familiarity with the franchise.

If the continuity lockout wasn’t enough, the movie's extraordinarily confusing take on the time travel plot renders any attempt at reaching clarity totally futile.  This is rather sad, as one of many boons of the Terminator series as a whole is the relative simplicity with which it approached time travel; not particularly realistic, but at least it didn’t require a Masters in Physics just to keep up.  Taylor and Co. threw all of that out the window, stacking on the temporal paradoxes like a snow fort, but leaving the foundation just as flimsy.  Just in case you missed what the plot was throwing at you at every second, a brief summation: Reese is sent back a la the original timeline, but the surprise ambush of a new Terminator model, that may be Skynet incognito, on John Connor throws a depth charge in the time stream that apparently, somehow, allows Reese to simultaneously recall memories from both his original timeline, and an alternate timeline where Judgement Day hasn't happened and he’s a sheltered teenager firmly in the bonds of puberty.  He encounters Sarah and "Pops," who apparently exemplify this new change not only by departure of characterization, but by the fact that “Pops” had actually been sent back to protect her from a Terminator attack ten years earlier.  So now, all three of them are hitching a ride to the future through a makeshift time machine - not to the 1997 ground zero of the original timeline, but to the alternate future found in Kyle’s time travel brain haze a few decades after.  Got it so far?  Good.  Makes any kind of sense?  Probably not, and it only gets more complicated from there on.

The sheer unwieldiness of the plot is problematic in itself, but what’s particularly troublesome is the intent behind it.  This film is the first in a planned series aimed at retooling the franchise, a fact so painfully obvious as to render the studio’s confirmation after it’s release unnecessary.  Reboots, in my eyes, are generally a bust, but can be pulled off if done with care and respect to the conventions of storytelling.  Here, though, it's like the filmmakers wanted to clean house as quickly as possible, throwing out much of what constituted the old mythos (i.e., John Connor mythic hero status, if I'm allowed to spoil for a bit) for no other reason than the fact that it's not needed anymore in the wake of this new "vision."  In fact, watching this unfold reminded me of an X-men storyline a few years ago called House of M, which without going into too much detail ended in the termination of a large majority of the comic's known mutants in one form or another.  Such an extreme plot in a beloved major franchise is bound to be controversial no matter what, but what really ticked off most fans was the later admission that its prime reason was to reduce the number of mutants to a more "manageable" level.  While the sentiment enmeshed in House of M is understandable, and it'd be foolish to claim that no fictional storyline had ever been influenced by the pragmatic demands of extra-textual limitations, to have it conducted in such a hamfisted and instrumental manner does justice to no one and nothing, least of all the story.  While Genisys doesn't wear its intent to anywhere near that level of provocation, it can still be quite jarring to anyone perceptive enough to see it.


Genisys is, to a certain extent, a fun film; I didn't come into it expecting to have my mind blown in any way, and Schwarzenegger and the special effects were good enough for an evening's distraction.  I'd even go so far as admit that it contains within the seeds for a better sequel in this inevitable new series.  However, they need to learn from the mistakes of this first foray (and maybe think about getting a better Kyle Reese) if they want the next film to be met with anything other than groans of indifference and confusion.


Grade: D

Movie Review: Jurassic World

 

 Movie: Jurassic World

Directed by: Colin Trevorrow

Starring: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Nick Robinson

Verdict:

Jurassic World breathes new life into a presumably extinct franchise that’s been left cold for nearly fourteen years, and while the cardboard-thin characters and somewhat shallow plot leaves much to be desired, the smart humor, acceptable action, and willingness to engage in a bit of self-depreciation are what makes this sci-fi thriller worth the price of admission.

In depth:

If you’ve walked into any movie playing in the last - oh - 9 months, then you’ve probably been hit in the face with a Jurassic World preview.  Heralded as the long-awaited(?) resurrection of the thrilling, dino-ripper sci-fi action franchise sparked way back in ‘93 with the now-revered Jurassic Park, I must admit that I was already experiencing  hype burnout without really knowing anything about it.  I mean, dinosaurs?  Again?  With the wave of truly terrifying monsters that had graced the silver screen in the 22 years since the first movie’s release, the prospect of sitting through another dino flick hoping to be scared witless seemed a little underwhelming.  It didn’t help that the previous pair of mediocre Jurassic Park sequels appeared tailor-made to poison any fond thoughts I had for their glorious progenitor.  I knew that the franchise needed a new direction - needed, in fact, a reason to limp along in its rather extraneous existence.  I just wasn’t convinced from the spotty information conveyed through the previews that Jurassic World would be this series’ second wind.  It turns out I was mistaken, for while I found nothing in Jurassic World that captured the awe-inspiring terror that was Jurassic Park - a feat, I imagine, not to be matched by any dinosaur movie in the near future - the film does, in fact, point to a possible resurgence built not on thrills and chills, but rather on good, solid action and a willingness to poke clever fun at both the franchise itself, and the wider circus that often hovers over the entertainment industry.

The story kicks off with a surprisingly quiet and down-to-earth look at Zach and Gray Mitchell, two brothers played by Nick Robinson and the young Ty Simpkins, as they’re packing their bags and gearing up to go on a trip together.  This is a far departure from the other films, which usually hits you in the face with a jump scare, or some unfortunate schmuck having a sudden lapse in common sense and becoming dinosaur feed as a result.  While a seemingly trivial detail, this quite literal change in pace not only introduces two important main characters, but also keys in the viewer to the stylistic swerve Jurassic World takes with respect to the previous movies.  If you went by their parents’ lackadaisical attitude and Zach’s generic teenage boredom, you would think they were going to a petting zoo or an aquarium, instead of the titular island-wide theme park stacked full of creatures that have been given a 65 million-year stay of execution.  But dinosaurs, it seems, are familiar enough so as to lose their “magic” for all but the most enthusiastic neophytes, like Gray. With the expectation of either imminent threat or wonder neutralized at the very start, our minds are left open on any assumptions with this new movie - a rather smart move by the filmmakers.

And sure enough, they capitalized on this by immediately taking us to Jurassic World and introducing Bryce Dallas Howard as Claire Dearing, the Mitchell brothers’ aunt, who is not an archaeologist, not an adventurer, but the park’s operation manager - a bored bureaucrat who looks at the dinosaurs and sees neither wonder nor fear, but mere dollar signs.  That the corporatization of a dinosaur theme park would be a major plot point was unanticipated, but completely logical; with so many people seeing so many dinosaurs, it’s no surprise that a certain crowd apathy which always accompanies familiarity would set in.  In fact, the park itself has been on a bit of a backslide lately as, if I can paraphrase Dearing, the average child on the street looks at a Stegosaurus in the same manner as they would an elephant at the local zoo.  In order to bring the numbers back up, they have to unveil a new “attraction” in order to reel the fans back in, which usually entails cooking up a Mesozoic abomination in the park’s genetic laboratory.  Meanwhile, across the island, Owen Grady (Pratt) demonstrates his remarkable degree of communion with a pack of Velociraptors to a group of onlookers.  Vic Hoskins, InGen’s head of security played by Vincent Philip D'Onofrio, alerts Grady that his services will be needed to test the latest genetically-modified Franken-saur, the ridiculously named Indominus Rex, but not before discussing the possible military applications of the somewhat-controllable raptor pack.

The brilliance of these particular plot nodes is in how they provide a subtle but necessary commentary on the state of both the Jurassic Park franchise in public mind, and how the general media demands for bigger and flashier effects leads to the commodification of nearly anything.  Dearing literally sees everything as commercial gain or loss, and in the beginning is never seen far from the swarm of corporate sponsors itching to learn the latest return on their investment.  On the more cynical side, Hoskins’ military ambitions for raptor foot soldiers might seem a touch silly on first blush, but plays quite well into how these scenarios have played out historically - especially when he applies the cold logic of “we made them, hence we own them.”  In fact, nearly everyone in the film represents to some extent the deadening effect mass commercialization can have on even the most spectacular of visions: Dearing and Hoskins’ views; Zach’s constant “so-over-this” attitude, even before the spectacle of a Mosasaur chomping on a great white; and the myriad of park employees who couldn’t look any more apathetic if they were handing out tickets to the local carnival.  About the only ones who have a sufficient sense of awe or at least respect for the un-extinct beasts are Gray and Owen Grady - even Simon Masrani, the flamboyant and enthusiastic owner of Jurassic World, while less concerned about the bottom dollar than about the sense of wonder and enjoyment his customers experience, corrals the commercial disaggregation with his demands for bigger, badder, and more dangerous dinosaurs.  The parallels to the entertainment industry are obvious, and require little further elaboration as they’ve been showcased in many movies since the year dot; however, it’s hard to miss the gentle poke at the Jurassic Park series and its finicky fan base.  After the major coup d'etat of the first movie, we were left in demand for more thrills that the sequels, lackluster as they were, couldn’t fulfil.  It’s true that we often weigh the mettle of any monster flick by how much bigger and scarier it is compared to the one last week, and Jurassic World lampoons this notion with surprising subtlety even as it forms the basis of its story.

Accompanying these stealth digs was an unexpected wealth of humor pervading throughout the entire film.  While cheeky, dark humor has always been a mainstay in the series, the filmmakers seemed to kick it up a notch this time around, and with a keen eye to the self-referential and self-depreciating.  Lowery Cruthers, the park’s operations overseer, is a virtual fountain of in-jokes, puns, and snide remarks to this end.  Played by comedian Jake Johnson, the tech-savvy snarker is first seen sporting an original Jurassic Park T-Shirt - apparently a hefty buy online - and while fully admitting it’s bad taste, defends his fashion choice by expressing had admiration for the “legitness” of the original park.  These reference could easily be driven to the point of annoyance, but Jurassic World generally avoids that pitfall - partly by keeping Cruthers’ appearances succinct and relevant, but also by displaying a knack for comedic timing completely atypical for a sci-fi thriller.

This surprising feat for a supposedly “meat-headed” action movie somehow comes about without distracting from its designated genre, though here, ironically, is where it fell off for me.  Don’t get the idea that there is anything terribly innovative about Jurassic World as a whole; the details around the I. Rex’s escape and rampage, as well as the course of the action, were predictable in the absolute sense.  To be fair, the same could be said for Jurassic Park, but its characters felt much more compelling, especially the two siblings Lex and Tim, who instantly drew in the viewer with their strong acting and delightful blend of vulnerability and moxy.  In contrast, the Mitchell brothers are relatively flat along the rest of the cast.  That said, while strong, 3-dimensional characters are by personal preference the apogee of any story for me, I must contend with the reality that characters can be tools for plot progression just like anything else, and while they may have been flat, they certainly were not weak; I can’t say that there was a single unintentionally unlikable person in the whole shebang, and the pervasive humor went a long way towards humanizing them.  I suppose “economical” is the best way to describe everything in this film, from the flat but believable characters, to the judicious pacing and just-right action that all made Jurassic World feel pleasantly shorter than its 124 minutes, with some highlights including Owen Grady's general badassery and Dearing's very admirable showing in this department herself, saving the day on more than one occasion despite the prim, by-the-book girly-girl exterior.

Jurassic World could have been just an average, popcorn thriller with the obligatory special effects “magic” that fails to compensate for its many other shortcomings.  But while the film was in many ways generic - though the special effects DID pull their fair share - it stands out for those subtle jabs at the film industry in general and the Jurassic Park series specifically.  No matter where you stand on it - as an “awesome” big-budget thrill ride, or as another lame addition to the canon that will never live up to the original - there is something or someone in this film to mirror your views, ensuring that even we the moviegoers cannot escape its well-executed satire anymore than we can its genetically-altered saurian antagonist.  I’m not sure how much of this was intentional, but the pieces fell into place too well to be a complete accident.

Rating: B