REVIEW: Prometheus

It's a testament to the quality of both Alien and Aliens that we hold this franchise in such high-regard. These first two films rank among the best ever made, yet everything since has ranged from merely okay to pure garbage. Prometheus was a film that I (and I'm sure many other Alien fanatics) was greatly looking forward to. With Ridley Scott back in the director's chair and a viral marketing campaign that promised something more in-line with the original 1979 film, I was sure that this would be the film to restore this franchise to its former glory. As Noomi Rapace's Dr. Elizabeth Shaw says, "I was wrong. We were so wrong." Perhaps I'm being a tad harsh; the last and only time I watched Prometheus was back when it released in the summer of 2012. Like with Batman V Superman, I left the theater feeling as though the film was passable at worst (albeit a tad unsatisfying), only for that feeling of middling acceptance to quickly sour into outright contempt. The more I thought about it, the more elements of the plot and characters disintegrated before my eyes like so many buff, albino spacemen. However, as hard as it is to believe, that was just about half a decade ago. I decided to give Prometheus another chance, to see if it holds up better upon a second viewing. It does, though only slightly, and I'm still very much inclined to chalk this one up as yet another 'miss' for the Alien franchise.

Taking place well before Alien (and retconning those god-awful AVP movies out of series canon), the film follows the crew of the Prometheus, a research vessel commissioned by the eponymous Weyland Corporation. Archaeologists Elizabeth Shaw (Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green) have discovered star maps in several locations across the Earth, believing them to be directions to the origins of mankind's makers. Intent upon finding these so-called Engineers and uncovering the purpose of human life, the crew travels to a planet known as LV-223 (not to be confused with LV-426 from Alien and Aliens), only to find a massive pyramid filled to the brim with a strange, goopy alien pathogen. Instead of answering the questions posed by Alien (mainly regarding the origin of the iconic xenomorph), the film instead poses a host of new questions and chooses to answer exactly zero of them.

In some ways, this was a functionally flawed film from the get-go. Part of the appeal of Alien was the sense of mystery and uncertainty. We knew as much about the creature that terrorized the crew of the Nostromo as they did; the alien represents the unknown, and the unknown is always inherently terrifying. That is, until you attempt to explain it. Really, we don't need to know where the xenomorph came from. Any origin they could present would just feel unsatisfying compared to some thirty-plus years of speculation and conjecture. Luckily, however, the xenomorph gets to retain its mystique because it doesn't appear at all in this film. Instead, we're given an unsatisfying (and canonically dubious) explanation for the Space Jockeys (now called Engineers). Being that the xenomorph has existed in pop culture for so long, it's understandable why Ridley Scott chose to omit the creature from this entry in the series; people love the big chap, but we've had nearly four decades to look at the monster. Safe to say he's lost a bit of his initial shock and awe, so it's important to innovate and keep things fresh. Unfortunately, the film forgets that there's a difference between being mysterious and simply being ill-defined.

In Alien, we're able to understand how the creature functions, even if we know very little about what it actually is. We can gather that it reproduces by implanting an embryo inside a host and that it's got pressurized molecular acid for blood. It's incredibly resilient but, like most animals, is averse to fire. There's just enough there that the xenomorph is still strange and terrifying, but coherent enough in concept that it remains conceivable. We aren't distracted by this fantastical creature skulking around a ship knocking off space truckers because it feels like something that could very well exist in the cold depths of space. That's precisely what makes it terrifying. 

Meanwhile, in Prometheus, we know all the wrong things about the Engineers. We know that they created human life, we know that their DNA is somehow a direct match to ours (despite them being an ancient race of alabaster giants), we know that they want to destroy us for whatever reason, and we know that they possess a sinister black goo that you certainly don't want to get near any mucus membranes. We don't know, on the other hand, what the black goo even does; as is, it basically functions in whichever way is most convenient for the plot. Sometimes it causes life to disintegrate, sometimes it causes rapid evolution, and sometimes it just turns people into zombies. While we assume the creature in Alien is just acting on animal instinct, the Engineers are clearly intelligent. So why don't they operate under any sense of logic? Why do they want to destroy Earth so badly? We have some sense of what the stakes are, but we don't know what motivates any of it. I was so busy trying to make sense of all the plot holes and oversights that I completely forgot to be emotionally invested.

I could spend a great deal of time picking apart the insane amount of plot holes in this movie (and I would, if a certain pair of hackfrauds hadn't perfectly summed everything up five years ago), so I'll instead pick apart the characters. Whereas Alien spent the entirety of its first act familiarizing us with a small crew of normal, everyday people, Prometheus instead opts for a comparatively larger cast of sci-fi cartoon characters. Logan-Mashall Green is completely unbelievable, playing the part of a doctor of archaeology with all the impulsiveness of a boorish frat-boy. He's completely unlikeable and I felt nothing but joy upon seeing him bite the dust. Rafe Spall's biologist character is a jittery coward for the entire film, up until the point he sees a phallic alien snake and decides to try and shake hands with it. Apparently there was a cut scene in which he encounters a decidedly non-hostile version of these creatures, establishing the idea that they pose no threat to him; why this scene was cut, I have no idea. We also get to watch Sean Harris comically smoke weed out of his space helmet while trapped in an ancient alien pyramid. This movie features the most appallingly incompetent excuses for scientists I think I've ever seen, and that's aside from the scene towards the end of the second act where Idris Elba explains the premise thus far to any audience members who might be having trouble keeping up.

That said, the film is not without its highlights. Noomi Rapace is totally believable in her role as Elizabeth Shaw (even if she's just a tad too spry immediately following a last-minute cesarean). The idea of a character struggling to hold onto their faith despite literally meeting their maker is leagues more fascinating than every other bit of sci-fi schlock the film throws our way. There's also Michael Fassbender as David the android, by far the best takeaway of the entire film. The theme of creations rebelling against their creators is about the only thing the film gets across well, and that's almost entirely thanks to Fassbender's incredible performance. He displays such a subtle turn from helpful and innocent to jealous and spiteful, completely commanding attention while on-screen. It's actually kind of stunning; few films display such an aptitude for wasting talent like this one does, yet I'd go as far as to say that David is right up there with Ripley as one of the best characters this franchise has ever produced. Fassbender earns every bit of praise he gets for this one, and he's one of the few things I'm certain will be good about Alien: Covenant.

Visually, this movie is stunning. The cinematography is gorgeous, the special effects are holding up nicely, and the reliance on practical sets and creatures is greatly appreciated. For as much as I gripe about the story and characters (care of Lost's Damon Lindeloff), I can't deny that this is a superbly good-looking film. Everything aesthetic, from the lighting to the score, is top-notch. I can even respect the film for daring to be as ambitious as it is; it goes to some truly far-out places, yet rarely scuffs the atmosphere that it builds. The first act is a strong preamble to a massive-yet-gorgeous letdown. With a better script, this really could have been a masterpiece to rival the first Alien. Instead, it will just have to join the long line of interesting films that were ruined during re-writes.

Prometheus is a film that I truly wish was as good as I wanted it to be. It sets lofty goals for itself and falls far from accomplishing them, as admirable as the attempt was. Unfortunately, there's just too many things wrong with the story being told on a fundamental level to save the film as a whole. Michael Fassbender is incredible and the visual direction is truly a sight to behold, but beyond that it's a disappointingly vague, shallow mess of a prequel. It may be somewhat unfair to compare it so vigorously to Alien, but I feel as though such comparisons are inevitable when both films are not only in the same franchise, but share the same director. There's so many cut corners and lazy plot holes here that were completely absent in Alien, so one has to wonder what changed in the interim. 

In the past, Ridley Scott has expressed frustration that Alien has become yet another blockbuster franchise, with schlocky sequels and a ride at Disney World. In many ways, Prometheus feels like an attempt by a director to reclaim an idea that has since gotten away from him; in the process of doing so, he ignores everything that made the original idea good, just for the sake of separating himself from the past that everyone knows and loves. I've seen the original draft of this film, back when Prometheus was known as Alien: Engineers. It certainly sounded like something better than what we got and it's unfortunate we'll never get to see it reach fruition. Hopefully he'll have more luck with Alien: Covenant.

REVIEW: Clue

In an era where The Emoji Movie is soon to be an actual thing (thank you, Sony Pictures), it's worth noting that absurd adaptations are hardly a modern convention. Take, for example, 1985's Clue, based off of the classic board game. At first glance, basing a film off of a board game sounds like a ludicrous venture; when it comes to board games, plot elements are typically little more than set-dressing. It's the reason there's a million different branded variations of Clue, Monopoly, and The Game of Life. The murder/mystery elements of the game are just for show, since the actual game itself is less about discerning motives and more about using process of elimination to predict the contents of an envelope. That said, I hardly think there's a licensed adaptation that can't simply be salvaged with a hefty dose of originality and imagination. The biggest problem with the Battleship movie wasn't that the filmmakers decided to make it about alien warships firing giant pegs at naval vessels, so much as it was that they decided Rihanna was an actress. If you want an example of an absurd concept that shines purely because of the amount of polish applied by the filmmakers, look no further than Clue.

Set in 1954, the film opens with an assortment of people attending a fancy dinner party at the mysterious Hill House. As each guest is greeted by the butler, Wadsworth (Tim Curry), they are given an alias and instructed to keep their actual identities a secret. Thus we are introduced to our would-be suspects, Professor Plum (Christopher Lloyd), Miss Peacock (Eileen Brennan), Mrs. White (Madeline Kahn), Mr. Green (Michael McKean), Colonel Mustard (Martin Mull), and Miss Scarlet (Lesley Anne Warren). Once they are joined by the final guest and host, Mr. Boddy (Lee Ving), Wadsworth informs the guests that they are all the victims of blackmail and that Boddy is the man behind it all; the dinner party was merely an excuse to get them all under one roof to confront Boddy and turn him over to the police. Boddy reminds everyone that he can simply reveal their secrets once in police custody, and instead suggests that they kill Wadsworth and destroy the evidence, handing everyone a weapon. He turns out the light, there's a gunshot and a struggle, the lights go back on, and Boddy is lying dead in the middle of the parlor. And thus, the movie officially begins, kicking off a race to discover the identity of the killer before the police arrive and implicate everyone.

The film is a love-letter to classic whodunnit mystery tales, capturing the same charming, anachronistic atmosphere as the board game. One of the most important reasons why this movie works as well as it does is that it presents a genuinely engaging mystery. As the night goes on, more and more bodies keep turning up and the stakes keep getting higher and higher. The film also famously contains three different endings; the idea being that theaters would receive one of the three, each one presenting a different outcome. With this in mind, I tried to uncover the culprit before the movie revealed who the murderer really was (as anyone who enjoys a good mystery plot is wont to do); not only did my top three choices keep constantly changing as the film went on, in the end I had only guessed correctly once. 

The film really does an excellent job of keeping the audience guessing, throwing out red herrings left and right, giving everyone in the house probable cause for suspicion. The best mysteries are the ones that the viewer can solve simply based off of the clues presented; a sudden deus ex machina reveal that ignores the entire plot and buildup isn't so much clever as it is lazy writing. While I think it would certainly be a feat for someone to predict the final, "true" ending on a first-time viewing, the final scene (in which every bit of evidence is laid bare before both the characters and the audience) more or less proves that all the pieces of the puzzle were present and accounted for before arriving at the climax.

It's a truly commendable effort; it's not like one has a whole lot to work with when building a film based off of the Clue board game, yet this film manages to incorporate essentially every element from the game and pass as a legitimately well-thought-out mystery story to boot. That's to say nothing of the wonderfully irreverent, sardonic tone. The key to a good multigenre film is ensuring that both genres are not only evident, but well-represented. In the same way that Alien is both an effective horror movie AND an effective sci-fi story, Clue manages to be both a hilarious comedy and an engaging murder-mystery. When adapting a licensed product, it's important to have some perspective and remember what exactly it is you're dealing with. It would take a tremendous leap for anyone to take an adaptation of a board game seriously, the same way it would be difficult to make a Where's Waldo adaptation in the style of The Bourne Identity. By going for an overall comedic tone to compliment the air of mystery, the movie is able to faithfully translate the board game to the big screen, substituting the fun and easygoing atmosphere of actually playing the game for dry wit and slapstick sensibilities. Everyone in the film gives a wonderful performance (especially Tim Curry, who becomes a pure dynamo in the final act) and the writing is so quick and sharp I fear I may have cut myself while watching it.

Clue is an ideal cult classic. It's silly and strange and stems from what was very likely a ludicrous concept back in the day; making an entire movie based off of a board game. In the years since, we've gone from "one instruction manual's worth of plot" to "smiley faces and pictures of poop", so it would seem we've only dug ourselves deeper into that Tartarus-like pit that is licensed adaptations. It's a wave that can't be helped; so long as studios enjoy making money, brand synergy will always exist. But Clue is evidence that not every attempt to cash-in on a profitable brand has to be painful. In fact, with enough care and talent and attention to detail, it could even end up being fun, memorable, and legitimately engaging (not to mention, endlessly quotable). It's not often we get a movie like Clue or The LEGO Movie, where a shamelessly nonsensical idea is turned into something excellent, but when it happens it's certainly always a treat.

REVIEW: The Prince of Egypt

Believe it or not, the 90's wasn't just a renaissance for strictly Disney animation. Back before they were playing second-fiddle to Pixar and licensing every children's book under the sun, Dreamworks Animation was one of the few studios whose films proved to be worthy competition for those coming out of the Disney Animation Studios at the time. The best strategy for co-existing with a media empire as massive as the House of Mouse, I've found, is to embrace the things that are simply too risky for Disney to touch; the best parts of non-Disney theme parks are always the thrill rides and PG-13 elements that you'd never find within the walls of the Magic Kingdom. The same could be said when it comes to making movies; The Prince of Egypt is an exemplary example of an animated musical that goes directly for straight-faced drama instead of action, adventure, and comedy. Dreamworks Animation got its start, comprised mostly of ex-Disney animators, making films like The Prince of Egypt; gorgeously animated with a distinctly non-Disney edge. Then Shrek came along, won an Oscar, and ruined everything. Still, no amount of mediocre computer-generated comedies starring pop stars who can't act can erase the fact that Dreamworks has made some truly amazing animated films, and The Prince of Egypt is most definitely one of their best.

The film is a re-telling of the story of Exodus; after the Pharaoh Seti (Patrick Stewart) calls for the death of all newborn Hebrew males, a desperate mother named Yocheved (Ofra Haza) hides her son in a basket and sends him floating down the Nile River. The baby is discovered by the Queen of Egypt (Helen Mirren), who adopts him as her own, naming him Moses. After years of living as Egyptian royalty, Moses (Val Kilmer) is shocked to discover his true heritage. He goes on to become the chosen messenger of God (Kilmer and various others), attempting to convince his brother, Rameses (Ralph Fiennes) to free the Hebrew slaves so that they may be delivered unto the promised land. 

The film hits many of the same beats as its original inspiration, The Ten Commandments (Jeffery Katzenberg originally pitched the idea to Disney, who rejected it); however, this take on the story trades raw spectacle for a much more intimate, human story. The film focuses less on biblical scale and more on the relationship between Moses and Rameses, two men raised as brothers, made reluctant enemies by the circumstances they find themselves in. While a fair amount of the film focuses on ideas like hope and faith (sometimes to a fault), the core conflict plays out like a melancholy tragedy. Rameses is portrayed as downright sympathetic, forced to pay for the sins of his father. He's torn between affection for his brother and his desire to live up to his duties as Pharaoh. We're treated to an excellent scene early on that establishes Rameses' entire character, as his father warns him how "one weak link can break the chain of a mighty dynasty". This becomes his driving motivation for the rest of the film. We not only understand what Rameses wants, but we understand why he holds such aspirations.

We're given a similarly intimate look at Moses' struggle; as one would expect, the story ends more-or-less happily. Moses is successful in liberating his people and they begin their journey to the promised land. However, Moses' victory hardly comes without a cost. Every plague that the almighty bestows upon Rameses' empire falls on Moses' conscience; the film goes to great lengths to illustrate just how overwhelmed Moses is with the burden of being God's chosen messenger. Like Rameses, he is forced into conflict out of circumstance. However, unlike Rameses, Moses hopes to atone for his past, rather than live up to it. Our protagonist and antagonist are reluctant reflections of each other, making for an extremely resonant emotional core to this larger-than-life tale.

This is of course helped along, not only by the stellar cast (Fiennes is electrifying), but by the incredible animation. Subtle use of CGI mixed with fluid traditional animation creates a gorgeous, timeless art style that holds up nearly twenty years since the film's release. Everything is animated as if it were a live-action film, employing dynamic angles and meticulous framing that is only enhanced by the animation. It's a thematic feast for the eyes that makes Dreamworks' eventual decline into dated pop-culture references and bland CGI all the more depressing (thankfully more How to Train Your Dragon films are in the works and Captain Underpants at least looks visually interesting, but I digress). The songs are also tonally-consistent, which is of monumental importance in an animated biblical epic. If but a single musical number was too juvenile or silly or (god forbid) dated, the entire film would have suffered. Thankfully, the songs end up making for some of the most striking, iconic scenes in the entire film (particularly The Plagues). Even the most "comical" song in the movie (sung by Steve Martin and Martin Short, playing a duo of scheming court magicians) comes off as contextually appropriate and even somewhat foreboding.

Really, if I must criticize the film for anything, it's that the ending isn't as melancholic as I would have liked. The entire conflict is scaled down to focus on Moses and Rameses; in the end, the main difference between them is that Moses still feels sorrow over coming into conflict with his brother while Rameses has been consumed by vengeance and rage. The cost of freedom for his people is constantly weighing on Moses' shoulders, yet the ending is lighter than one would expect given the tense, emotionally-charged climax. For as well-developed as both of these characters are, some more conflict and emotion on Moses' part would have gone a long way in the grand scheme of things. He's cursed to not only be the protagonist, but to also be the voice of God; any chance of him making a mistake or failing in his mission is more or less out the window after his encounter with the burning bush, making him the less-interesting of the two main characters. I would have liked to have seen a little more gloom and struggle in that regard, but this hardly sinks the film or makes the conflict any less hard-hitting.

The Prince of Egypt is, in many ways, an underrated gem. This time of year, it seems like something of a tradition to take in a viewing of The Ten Commandments; while it's undoubtedly a classic, I feel as though there are many ways in which this telling of the story of Moses manages to top the original. It's an adaptation which deserves to escape the shadow of its predecessor and shine on its own numerous merits. This film is the complete package; a powerful story conveyed through powerful performances and powerful visuals, all set to a powerful score. If you want to see a strong example of the maturation of animation from an era where classics were made and released annually, look no further.

REVIEW: Pete's Dragon (2016)

Despite how much I loved the recent remake of The Jungle Book, I think it's safe to say that Disney's modern trend of remaking their classic films is getting to be a bit stale. Part of why that movie worked out so well, I think, is because the original film is somewhat less-than-remarkable. If you ask someone what their favorite Disney movie is, chances are they won't say "the original version of The Jungle Book". Movies like Beauty and the Beast and Mulan and even Sleeping Beauty still hold up to this day; the Disney brand is dripping with the iconography of these films for a reason. They're classics, so unless you're going to stray drastically from the original material (and if you're banking on the original film's status as an acclaimed classic, why would you?) there's no real point in re-making them. If the source material is less popular, however, a whole new world of creative potential opens up. Case-in-point, last year's remake of Pete's Dragon. The original film was one of many live-action musicals Disney released in the 60's and 70's in an attempt to recapture the magic of Mary Poppins; all it really has going for it in terms of legacy is some fun animation, a few decent songs, and an iconic float in the Main Street Electrical Parade. I recall picking it up as a kid because of the cartoon dragon on the front, only to discover the dragon spent most of the movie invisible in order to save money on animation. It's a film that few people feel especially passionate about, which makes it a perfectly acceptable candidate for reinterpretation. 

Set in 1977, the story begins with a family driving into the mountains on vacation. After swerving to avoid a deer, the car flips and goes off the road, leaving a young boy named Pete (Oakes Fegley) the only survivor. Scared and alone, he wanders the woods before coming across a giant, friendly dragon (with vocals provided by John Kassir). Six years go by and the two live happily together in the forest until Pete is discovered during a logging operation. He ends up in the care of a park ranger (Bryce Dallas Howard) while a group of loggers comb the woods in search of the dragon (now named Elliot); what follows is a surprisingly low-key, reserved tale of Pete struggling to come to terms with where he belongs. It's a story about friendship and family and the responsibilities that come with loving someone (or something).

For me the most striking thing about this movie was its tone. One might expect a movie about a boy and his dragon to be chock-full of fantastical adventure; imagine my surprise when this turned out to be a movie that put much more emphasis on character drama. The implications of a little orphaned boy living away from society for six years is played totally straight, as is the reality that this boy was living alongside a fire-breathing dragon. Despite its fantasy trimming, this is very much a film that is meant to take place in the real world. It's one of those rare films that doesn't talk down to its intended audience. Sure, there are plenty of cute moments where Pete and Elliot romp through the woods, but the subject matter tends to get surprisingly heavy in some places. I imagine the opening sequence in particular must have sent several angry moms and bawling toddlers back to the lobby in search of a refund. I wouldn't exactly describe the places this movie goes to as "dark", but "dreary" definitely seems like an appropriate term.

While I certainly don't think such a subversive tone a bad thing (honestly, it's the reason I enjoy and respect this movie as much as I do), I can't help but feel that Pete's Dragon will miss the mark for its target audience. I enjoyed it immensely, but there were a number of times I openly thought "if I was a kid, I'd be bored to tears right now". That's not to say that every kid will dislike this, but anyone looking for an upbeat adventure about a magic dragon will be disappointed. The pacing is especially slow, Elliot barely appears in the second act, and there's little to no action until the climax. Again, none of these are outright negatives, but they're definitely things to consider when recommending this movie. If you're in the mood for a more traditional Disney film, this certainly isn't it.

The cast is quite good, made up of talented actors who all play their parts well. Oakes Fegley gives a performance that is surprisingly easy to take seriously and Bryce Dallas Howard injects a good amount of motherly emotion into her part. Robert Redford is beyond charming as Howard's elderly father and I really loved Karl Urban as a lumberjack who becomes obsessed with capturing Elliot. He plays the role entirely straight, even when shouting lines like "FOLLOW THAT DRAGON!" and I really appreciated how he turned out to not be the same flat, greedy stereotype we've seen a million times before. The CGI on Elliot is quite good, as the green of his fur meshes well with the surrounding forests. This is a creature who comes off as appropriately charming and fantastical, while not clashing too cartoonishly against our real actors. All in all, this is a very verdant movie, sure to have anyone who watches it feeling the urge to go hit the hiking trails in search of adventure.

I really must commend the film's director, David Lowery. While so many of these remakes seem to have absolutely no ambition beyond "retell the animated story with five additional minutes of original content", this is a film that actively takes some risks in terms of its story and presentation. I'll be honest, when I first saw the trailer for this, I assumed it wouldn't be anything special; the idea of a gritty reboot for Pete's Dragon seemed downright laughable, but sure if this movie didn't prove me wrong. I can understand the logic behind all these reboots; if kids are still buying merchandise for a film that came out in the early 90's, why not try and squeeze a little more milk from that proverbial cow? But it wasn't that long ago that the market was flooded with superfluous straight-to-video sequels of famous Disney films (with Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time somehow being one of the best). It cheapened the brand and the studio only started to get back on track when John Lasseter took over Disney Animation in 2006. 

If Disney isn't careful, they could very easily see themselves poisoning their own brand with a series of middling, unambitious retreads of their most celebrated films. If anything, Pete's Dragon is proof they should do the opposite, repurposing their less fondly-remembered films into something new and original. Rather than bloating their stable of movies with projects that don't offer anything new, they could simply refine what they already have, acting as a bastion of experimentation and artistic integrity. Then again, Pete's Dragon barely made its budget back while the Beauty and the Beast remake is on track to cross the billion-dollar mark, so I guess that's all the incentive they need to stay the course until that bubble eventually pops.