Author: Dieter and Jim McLennan

Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft

  By

★★★
“Croft Original?”

I’m rarely going to find animated action as impressive as “live action”. Something done by an actual human will always seem more real than anything CGI or traditional hand-drawn animation can achieve. That’s true even if the former is arguably as fake, between stunt doubles, green screen and no small amount of CGI itself. Maybe it’s just me. While I have given multiple animated films our Seal of Approval previously, including Mulan, Aeon Flux and Battle Angel, these have been won on the basis of other elements beyond action. A live-action film can get there purely on those merits, despite clear deficiencies elsewhere e.g. In the Line of Duty IV. I don’t think animation can do that.

Hence, I suspect that I would look more kindly on this were it another live adaptation. It wouldn’t have to do much to be an improvement over the Alicia Vikander version, though to be honest, the Angelina Jolie versions were only adequate and borderline bad respectively. Maybe the makers would be better taking a Resident Evil approach, and not worrying about being faithful to the video-games. I did play the original – it remains one of only a few I ever completed – but care not about accuracy. Films and games are different, and need to be. Plot and character matter more on screen, not playability. Here, those elements are alright: they feel functional rather than organically inspired. For instance, it feels less a story than a series of levels.

We begin with a prologue which sees Lara (Atwell) in Chile retrieving a box, alongside her mentor, Conrad Roth. Three years later, Roth is dead and Lara blames herself for that. She’s about to sell off all the family’s treasures, when the Chilean box is stolen by Charles Devereaux (Armitage). Turns out the stone it contains is the first in a series of four, which when combined will destroy the precarious balance under which the world operates. Along with sidekicks Jonah (Baylon) and Zip (Maldonado), Lara criss-crosses the globe, from China to Turkey to France, and back to China, trying to stop Devereaux from completing the set and unleashing the power they contain.

From subsequent reading, I suspect you probably need to have played the specific games on which this is based (I believe it’s the “Survivor timeline”), to understand the significant of the apparent trauma through which the character has gone. None of this is depicted in the film, so I had no clue why I should be bothered by the off-screen death of Conrad, someone I’d only known for about five minutes. Also, Lara seems a bit gay here. Quite why a video-game character should be given specific sexuality escapes me. Shame they didn’t have the courage of their apparent convictions, to do more than hint heavily. To quote Yoda, “Do. Or do not.” Give us hot cartoon babes making out, or don’t bother bringing it up.

Of course, an old white guy is the villain, in comparison to the young, ethnically diverse group in Lara’s camp, and there are a couple of other jabs along those lines. But in general, it’s light enough with the messaging. The eight episodes probably total just under three hours, by the time you trim off the credits, so not all that much more than The Cradle of Life‘s 117-minute running time. You could probably get through it in a single sitting: it’s not difficult viewing. The animation is mid-tier, but does the job, and I liked the performance of Atwell (well-known here for her depiction of Agent Carter), who comes over as a serious, almost solemn, heroine – yet one with whom it’s still easy to empathize. Her supporting cast though, feel superfluous and don’t make much impression.

Within the limitation of animated action discussed above, what you get here isn’t bad. There are some good set pieces, and a couple of occasions where I almost forgot I wasn’t watching actual people, and held my breath. Key word there though, is “almost”. There’s an overall air of competence surrounding the production, and no obvious elements at which I can point a critical finger. Yet there is also not much to cause me to recommend this actively to anyone, who isn’t already a fan of the games. A second series hasn’t been confirmed: there are reports it received a two-season order out of the box, although it doesn’t appear to have received the critical acclaim given to Arcane. But if Lara does return, she probably falls into the “If I’ve nothing else to do” category.

[Jim]

Looking at some of the harsh reviews for the show, I get the impression a lot of it comes from, “I wanted the show to be this but it was that.” It’s a bit unfair because as a show, the series is good, standard adventure animation. Those who expected the show to be somewhat like Arcane: League of Legends, for example, were setting expectations very high. It’s true, that there are “two Laras”. The original by Eidos was invented in 1996, and the “modernized version” came out with the new games of Crystal Dynamics in 2013, and influenced the 2018 reboot movie, with Alicia Vikander. The original Lara could be described as a rich but goodhearted sociopath: watch the Angelina Jolie version, she really got it. Lara was a female Indiana Jones, living in a Bruce Wayne-like mansion, while the modern version seemed inspired by the Lisbeth Salander character from the Millennium Trilogy.

She instead became a guilt-stricken trauma survivor: I remember a trailer for one of the modern games, where she was talking with a psychiatrist and her whole body shook while remembering her previous experiences. The relentless adventurer who just enjoyed the journey seems to be out; the pain-stricken and emotive heroine is in. Still, she does all the action you would expect from her. This Lara just comes with emotional baggage; she has to learn to value her friends and understand that people are more important than the things she hunts. In a way it’s like modern and old James Bond. Once upon a time, he was a superhero we all loved and adored. Today, he has been cut down in size to make the character “more human”. For Lara, it makes her more relatable, for sure – but arguably less interesting. I’m not sure it’s the best way to present the character.

Filmed versions of Lara always seem to have her suffering from the loss of her father. This is the third such, after the Jolie and Vikander live-action versions. It should be noted this was not originally part of her imagined biography, which has changed several times over the years. Originally, she fell out with her family, when she decided to make adventure her lifestyle, earning her living as a travel writer, instead of marrying the Earl her parents had chosen for her. Her big defining moment was surviving alone for two weeks in the Himalayas after a plane accident. It was only after the Jolie films and the reboot games, it became that she had lost both parents.

Here, Hayley Atwell gives our favourite tomb raider a very good voice, and you wonder why film makers seem so resistant to casting a British actress as real-life Lara, with the previous actresses being American and Swedish. After all, Lady Lara Croft is as quintessential British as Sherlock Holmes, James Bond or Emma Peel. [Jim: be careful what you wish for, Dieter. You now have to deal with Sophie Turner as Lara in Amazon Prime’s adaptation!] In Charles Devereaux, this show offers Lara a villain who gives her the old, “You and me are actually very much alike” speech, as heard from Belloq in Raiders of the Lost Ark and Scaramanga in The Man with the Golden Gun, to emphasize the darker side of a hero. Nothing new here on this front.

A lot of effort goes into giving Lara a circle of friends, something less a factor in the games. But as every Bond has his Felix Leiter, every Indiana his Sallah, it’s only fair Lara also get her sidekicks! Interestingly, Lara’s arc is as an emotional vulnerable character, who finds her way back to humanity, in contrast to the villain who seems to lose his more and more. But the “coolness” of the original character, as seen in the early games and movies, has perhaps been lost in favour of her becoming a team player. It’s indicated that what prevents Lara from falling to her more negative instincts, is that she has friends who care for her, and help cope with her pain and grief. Devereaux is essentially alone, with no reason for him to overcome his anger, pain and wish for revenge. Richard Armitage gives a believable performance there. Yet she is still constantly trying to save her enemy. I suspect that “old Lara” would just have killed him when he attacked her, of that I’m quite sure.

There are a lot of small nods to previous games and films if you pay attention, beyond Lara doing parkour, reflecting her running and jumping around in the games. Things like a mention of the Trinity group, which appears in the Alicia Vikander movie, or her hallucinations of demons with a striking resemblance to the stone gargoyles that came alive in the first Jolie adventure. However, the show delivers only standard adventure, neither great nor bad; like so many things, it’s in the middle, just average. If you can cope with that, the show should entertain – no less, no more, with animation which similarly is fairly standard but satisfying enough. It provides the action and adventure I would expect from this genre. The one real flaw I see, is that it lacks the kind of humour, fun and levity I’d also deem essential elements of the Tomb Raider franchise. Lighten up a bit next time, Lara.

[Dieter]

Showrunner: Tasha Huo
Star (voice): Hayley Atwell, Earl Baylon, Richard Armitage, Allen Maldonado

Love Lies Bleeding

  By

★★★
“‘Roids and rage.”

In a trans-continental coincidence, both Dieter and I ended up watching and writing our own, independent reviews of this. At least we agreed on the three-star rating!

Well, you might or might not like the way this ends… However, you certainly will remember it. Credit director/co-writer Glass for apparently deciding to live (or die) by the mantra, “Go big or go home.” Literally. It’s in line with a general feeling she doesn’t want to take the easy options at any point here. It doesn’t always work. Boy, does it not. However, I respect the approach. It takes place in a small New Mexico town towards the end of the eighties, where Lou (Stewart) is a gym manager, a lesbian and the estranged daughter of Lou Sr. (Harris). He is a gun-range owner with a very shady sideline in arms dealing, and a desert ravine into which his enemies vanish.

Things are upset by the arrival in town of Jackie Cleaver (O’Brien), a bodybuilder on her way to Vegas for a contest. The two begin a passionate affair, in which Lou also introduces Jackie to the dubious joys of steroid use (though I’m fairly certain these do not work in quite the way depicted here). Lou has another situation, in that her sister Beth is trapped in an abusive relationship with her husband. Jackie decides to take care of this problem for Lou. However, doing so causes more issues than it resolves, not least in that it brings down law enforcement heat on Lou Sr. as the most obvious suspect. Dad demands his daughter fix things, causing Lou to threaten to expose her father to authorities.

It’s all a very grubby take on the lesbian-noir genre, whose best-known example is probably Bound. Stewart seems consciously to be trying to break out of her Twilight reputation, though results so far have been mixed. At least this isn’t the Charlie’s Angels reboot, so for that, we thank her. It is not exactly subtle in its gender depictions: every single male depicted here is violent, though it’s interesting how Glass embraces the view that violence is the only solution, too. Though it’s complex: Jackie declines a gun, saying “Anyone can feel strong hiding behind a piece of metal. I prefer to know my own strength.” Let’s say, that’s not a position she maintains throughout.

O’Brian, who was a bodybuilder before turning to acting, and has a black belt in hapkido, certainly has the physical presence needed for the role. I was less convinced by Stewart, feeling as if her character was stuck in a permanent sulk. The failure to establish her as likeable leaves the relationship with Jackie feeling implausible: if Lou has hidden depths of appeal, they’re apparently buried at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. The decision to wander off, on a number of occasions, into territory closer to David Lynch than the Coen Brothers is one I would not have made, personally, and is likely to alienate a significant number of viewers. A straight (pun not intended) telling of the story would have been preferred. But you do you, Rose. You do you.

[Jim McLennan]

Today on the menu: Lesbian thrillers! Somehow this seems to become the new “trend-du-jour” as a new sub-genre. This year already saw the Ethan Coen-directed lesbian crime comedy Drive Away Dolls and the novel adaptation Eileen with Anne Hathaway. Lesbian-themed movies seem to have come a long way since movies such as Desert Hearts (1985), Thelma & Louise (1991; hey, stop, were these two actually lesbians?) or Fried Green Tomatoes (1991). The difference today is that films can be more direct in their depiction of whatever they want to show. Whether this is really an advantage, is up to the individual viewer. Rose Glass (Saint Maud) shows in her second theatrical movie that she can keep up with male directors of bloody thrillers. The film was a co-operation of British TV Channel 4 and American studio A24, which seems to be building a reputation for slow-burn horror movies.

Principally, the movie is a modern film noir (think Coen brother movies minus the humor). But it also could be called a film soleil, like the French 1980s subgenre of film noir, with most of the story playing in broad daylight. O’Brian and Stewart give good performances, which is satisfying because my usual problem with Stewart is that in most of her films, she almost seems like she is sleepwalking. But not here. I don’t have much to say about Ed Harris who is great and convincing in anything he plays. For me the secret star of the movie is Anna Baryshnikov (yes, the daughter of ballet dancer Mikhail) as the ill-fated ex lover of Stewart’s character.

The film has a strong sense of style, though for me it felt more like the mid-80s than the end-80s. A feeling of unhealthiness permeates the whole film, be it Stewart’s constant smoking (while listening to tapes telling her how unhealthy cigarettes are), the use of drugs to build up muscle tissue, or Ed Harris growing caterpillars and beetles. The relationships of the characters here, be they familiar or otherwise, also feel rotten. It’s definitely not the ideal family promoted by the Reagan administration in the 1980s (But then, in 1989 Bush Sr. was president).

It seeks to comment on the abnormal body cult of the eighties, the decade where hypertrophic heroes like Arnie, Sly and Dolph became big stars – though female bodybuilding is still a thing today (Julian Sands’ last movie before his untimely death dealt with the subject). Also, the characters here seem weird and far from sympathetic: everyone is sweating all the time, Harris with his long hair, Stewart looking as if she is permanently on drugs. They all look like people one wouldn’t necessarily want to meet. Then there is Jackie: while never directly said, it’s implied her erratic behavior is the result of the drugs that Lou gave her.

Glass doesn’t shy away from the ugly or disgusting. One of the first scenes show us Stewart cleaning a clogged toilet (remember the scandal when Hitchcock showed us a clean toilet in Psycho!). Later, we see a body whose jaw is broken into pieces, O’Brian vomiting up Stewart in a hallucination scene and Harris eating a horned beetle. If you are a fan of beautiful pictures this movie might not be for you! Some scenes reference typical Hitchcock or classical thriller suspense scenes, like Harris looking for his son-in-law in his flat while Stewart hides in the closet, or FBI agents interrogating Stewart, when there’s a corpse behind her couch

But not everything works: for example, Lou and Jackie hooking up so quickly was not very believable. But what do I know? I’m neither American nor was I out of puberty in 1989. At the same time I never thought that Jackie might be using Lou for her own advantage, as the movie wants me to believe. So, yes: the characters in the script needed more effort to work. Glass uses some interesting techniques to enhance the creepy atmosphere. Some scenes have a distortion effect with slow motion, very bright lights, coloring e.g. Harris filmed with a red light, and disturbing sound effects. Unfortunately, she spoils otherwise competent work with a final scene which feels as if it would fit better in a fifties sci-fi film than a thriller? Whose perspective is it supposed to be? It might have been meant as a feminist or lesbian empowerment message, but logically makes zero sense.

For me the big deal breaker is the end scene: After telling her father she is nothing like him, Lou completes a murder Jackie didn’t finish. In a way, she is indeed like her father: The same way he tried to protect her out of love, she protects her new found love. Not long ago The Marsh King’s Daughter showed a similar “like father like daughter” scenario. Not that I liked Lou much before: she appeared constantly angry, snappy, possessive, vindictive and irrational. But when she kills a virtually innocent person to secure her relationship, she becomes totally unsympathetic. Probably a great role for an actress but you cannot expect an audience to sympathize or even identify with such a character.

In classic Hollywood noirs, dark-hearted anti-heroes would pay for their crimes. Among many examples, Fred MacMurray getting shot for his sins by femme fatale Barbara Stanwyck in Billy Wilder’s classic Double Indemnity (1944). Heck, even Thelma and Louise paid with their lives for a more or less accidental killing. In modern films it seems if evil is done by women, film makers are reluctant to give them the punishment they deserve, and let them off the hook. I find such story-telling hypocritical and highly questionable: what message is being sent to an audience?

It is okay to commit crimes if you don’t get caught? Killing an innocent is justified in the name of love? Female characters should get off for crimes every man in every movie would be killed for? It seems to be a double standard – I just call it inequality. If you want equal treatment, take it all, including the negatives. No, cherry-picking allowed. Please don’t call me morally sour: I had for example no problem with that famed lesbian noir, Bound (1996), a film where “Love Lies Bleeding” stole some of its ideas from, directed by the Wachowskis. There, the two heroines got away with a murder and theft but they had to defend themselves from a mad angry mafioso. This is different and feels different.

Ah, you want to know about the sex scene? Unfortunately, there is hardly anything mentionable to see here. The short scene is quickly cut and over before you can blink. Audiences are better served erotically either with the aforementioned and superior, though less stylized Bound, or Italian giallo films of the 1970s which seemed more open to  showing sexuality or nudity than modern American movies. But what can you expect, with the new guidelines in movies which require “intimacy coordinators”, primarily so the production won’t be sued. I now feel a great need to watch Basic Instinct again!

So, what’s my conclusion? Well, the film is definitely watchable, a very stylish modern bloody film noir. And if you want to see a movie with lesbians or involving bodybuilding, you might not want to skip it. But its unsympathetic characters prohibit a second viewing or a whole-hearted recommendation from me.

[Dieter]

Dir: Rose Glass
Star: Kristen Stewart, Katy O’Brian, Ed Harris, Anna Baryshnikov

Blue Eye Samurai

  By

Jim: ★★★
Dieter: ★★★★
“You can’t die. You don’t know how.”

Plot. Mizu (Erskine) has a grudge. She’s a mixed-race young woman living in 17th-century Japan, a position which leaves her at the bottom of society. But she has dragged herself up to become an onna-musha, a warrior with ferocious sword skills, courtesy of Master Eiji (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa), the blind swordsmith who raised her. Now, she’s on the hunt to take revenge on the man she believes is her father, Abijah Fowler (Branagh). He’s an Irish smuggler, who is upsetting the delicate balance of Japanese society, closed to foreigners, by importing firearms. He’s involved in planning a coup to overthrow the current shogun.

[Editor’s note: the original plan was for Dieter and I to review it independently, then combine the two pieces. But Dieter went into rather more detail! So most of what follows is his opinion, with my thoughts sprinkled as garnish, in italics]

I have to admit my opinion on this show has changed a couple of times while watching it. First, there was the enthusiasm of a Japan-based-action series with a female main character. After that I thought about the “wokeness” of the show (after all, it’s Netflix), something that hardly can be overlooked. And finally, I recognized the strong effort that went into the storytelling, the visual beauty, and small details of the show and realized that while definitely a “woke” story, these elements are neither too strong nor too dominant to destroy the genuine pleasure I had when watching it.

I liked this, but it’s probably fair to say I didn’t love it. I tend to have a blind-spot with regard to animated action. Personally, I find it’s a medium that dilutes the intensity of fight scenes, because it applies a distancing effect to it. I’m always aware that I’m watching drawings or pixels beating the heck out of each other, which is intrinsically going to be less impressive than people “really” doing so. If this had been live-action, and equally gory, it could have been awesome. There’s also a weird visual choice here in that Mizu’s nose is typically shadowed. This has the unfortunate effect of making her look to me either as if she has a bad head cold, or if she is a habitual alcoholic.

But first things first: despite its title and the location (Japan in 1657 in the Edo era) Blue Eye Samurai is – an American product, so certain allowances have to be made. While I do love a story of female persistence, this 8-part show pushes the limits of believability. We have to accept that, at a time when foreigners are forbidden to be in Japan, not only there is such a person living there, but also this man fathered a daughter. This means she is half-Caucasian, half-Japanese and therefore considered a “demon”, harassed by pure-blood Japanese who have never seen such a stranger in their country. She will then become a trained “samurai” – quotes used advisedly, as we’ll see – with the appropriate sword skills.

It’s a stretch, though still in the reign of possibility, since there have been, real swordswomen in Japan. That woman then going on a rampage, hell-bent on revenge for… well… her own creation? This does not make much sense to me. After all, should we not all be happy we exist? But then, my own life, like most, has been peaceful and harmonious. In contrast, the main character, Mizu, has led a life of misery, constantly been harassed, pursued with hatred, endangered and betrayed. It’s not difficult to imagine, if you grew up that way, you would sooner or later start to hate the man responsible for your very existence. Though strangely, she doesn’t seem to hold a similar grudge against the mother who gave birth to her,

Mizu’s path leads her to Ringo, the son of a innkeeper, who has no hands (remember, this is Netflix!). After being saved by her, he becomes her servant. There’s also Taigen, a samurai-in-training, who once lived in the same town as Mizu and almost succeeded in killing her as a child. After she beat him in battle, he feels his honour is insulted and follows Mizu to challenge her to a rematch. But his revenge has to wait. A further complication arises in Japanese noblewoman Akemi, who is in love with Taigen and would like to marry him. Though her father has other marriage plans and Taigen is not ready to marry her until he has regained his honor. None of them know (yet) that Mizu is a woman. And as Mizu mercilessly pursues her path of revenge, Ringo and Taigen become her allies, with some indication of a mutual attraction between Mizu and Taigen.

Blue Eye Samurai is a French-American animated show by Blue Spirit for Netflix, created by Michael Green (the screenwriter for Logan and Blade Runner 2049) and Amber Noizumi. They were inspired by their daughter, who was born 15 years ago with blue eyes. Noizumi spoke about how she, herself biracial, wondered what it would have been like to lived as a biracial person in 17th-century Japan, when Japan’s borders were closed to the outside world and strangers from abroad would have no chance to be accepted in society. Another, unconfirmed inspiration might be British navigator William Adams who travelled to Japan in 1600, and was called “the blue-eyed samurai”. He also inspired the ever-popular series Shogun, which Netflix just remade. What a coincidence.

Other influences, according to Noizumi, were movies such as Kill Bill, Lady Snowblood, and… Yentl, Barbara Streisand’s musical about a Jewish woman who wants to study and has to take on a male identity. It has been confirmed by Noizumi that Mizu was inspired by Clint Eastwood’s break-out Man with No Name role in the famous Dollars trilogy by Sergio Leone, This fits, because the show often reminded me less of a typical Japanese jidaigeki (historical drama) or chanbara (sword-fighting movie with a historical background), but more a Western in disguise. If the mix between East and West was intended, whether this makes it “the best of two worlds” or a travesty is up to you. But it’s not really the first of its kind, considering Tom Cruise’s The Last Samurai.

I personally don’t like it when words like “emancipation” or “discrimination” are thrown around in relation to a show mainly meant to entertain. But in this case, they are justified given the very basis of the show, in medieval Japan. This setting is different to current Western countries, being one with a mostly homogeneous population, traditional conservative values and what feminists nowadays like to call “patriarchal”, as a background for a story of female emancipation and racist discrimination. You may question what “woke propaganda” Netflix is tossing at an innocent viewer this time. But it’s a relief that any messaging comes, not in heavy-handed preaching, as is typical for many Netflix shows, but mostly carefully integrated into the show, rather than feeling like they were bolted on.

The show certainly ticks all the diversity check-boxes with its characters. We have a biracial female who taught herself everything, a repressed (though in the context of the era “spoiled” might be more accurate?) lord’s daughter, a helpful assistant born with no hands, a blind sword-maker, while an old white man is the perverse, cruel villain, and women have no say in society, serving as servants or prostitutes. Did I forget anything? Despite it all, this feels acceptable given the time and place in which the story occurs.

As noted, in choosing this kind of story, time and place, the creators often stretch the limits of believability. In particular, with Akemi, the daughter of a powerful lord who wants to marry her to the son of the shogun. She is in love with Taigen, so absolutely resists that idea. Akemi comes across the entire series as enormously stubborn, resisting advice and always wanting to get her way. I have to shake my head in disbelief, knowing that the idea of “marriage for love” was in those times rare both in Japan and Europe (Historians say the idea of what we call today “romantic love” was born around 1850). People married due to sharing social class, to keep property within a circle of families, or because their business-partnered parents decided so, sometimes even before they were born.

Even more unbelievable for the time, is the idea a Japanese woman would have been allowed to voice her wishes or opinion in the blunt manner depicted here. Quite honestly, I think if any woman would have behaved so disrespectfully to an older man, giving strong, vocal objections or even slapping the shogun’s son, she would have immediately been beheaded or drowned in the nearest pond. The wish of the creators to have another strong female character in the show backfires here. Akemi is what you would expect a modern, Western young woman to be, not a Japanese woman from the Edo era. This is fan-fiction at best, bad research at worst.

Probably my least favourite aspect was this significant side-plot involving noble samurai Taigen (Barnet), and his true love, the Princess Akemi (Branda Song), who is about to be married off against her will. Neither of those characters seemed significant, and it felt like this sometimes became an excuse for male-bashing. Brothel madam Kaji (Ming-Na Wen) was the worst for that: look, nobody is keeping you a prostitute. Get out of the profession or quit complaining about your customers. Oh, and if men are bad, white men as embodied by Fowler are the absolute worst.

A word of warning to the uninitiated. The show does not hold back in the depiction of violence. The slicing-off of extremities sometimes made me wonder if the victims’ bodies were made out of styrofoam, and I also found a bit excessive, the arterial blood spray. How many litres does the human body contain? The same goes for sexuality, though less often. I personally have seen more extreme things, but this is Western animation, and the audience may not be quite prepared for the graphic content. But I guess anyone going to watch the show would probably know beforehand it is not a show for children. You wouldn’t expect kid-friendly content from an Akira Kurosawa samurai movie, wouldn’t you?

This was not a problem for me. Indeed, I would have been disappointed had it been any other way! The “garden hose” approach to blood has long been a mainstay of Japanese cinema, certainly back as far as the early seventies and the Lone Wolf & Cub films – a staple of Western VHS stores under the title of Shogun Assassin. Realism isn’t a factor, and this is an area where animation can really push the pedal to the metal, being unconstrained by the limits of latex and Karo syrup.

Ah, yes… samurai, that’s a key word: after all, it’s in the title and is mentioned several times. I should stress here, Mizu definitely is no samurai by the traditional definition. He would usually act in service of a daimo, a feudal landlord serving the shogun. This usually comes with certain obligations and behaviour that would be seen as a code of honor. Mizu quite definitely doesn’t fit the description. However, many of Kurosawa’s “samurai” don’t either, including The Seven Samurai or the character Toshiro Mifune plays in Yojimbo and Sanjuro (which, cycling back, served as inspiration for Eastwood’s Man with No Name). But the writers of the show were really smart, and address it within the story. When Ringo complains she doesn’t act like a samurai would, she turns and angrily shouts: “I never said I am one.” It’s a sign of well thought-out screenwriting, and I like it very much. Kudos to the storytellers: now, will they make the show eventually deliver what the title promises?

I was less impressed with the music. More than once the people responsible seemed to think, “As long as it’s cool, everything is fine” – an attitude I personally don’t agree with at all. For example, in a training montage of Mizu, the famous “Battle Without Honor Or Humanity” by Tomoyasu Hotei plays. Sure, a cool tune from a Japanese composer. But it’s modern music and – though first used somewhere else – so closely associated with Kill Bill, it really felt like a misstep. Other popular pieces, e.g. by the Black Cats or Metallica, have even less justification. You tell a story in 17th century Japan, please apply music that fits the time period. And partly the show feels like a check-list of everything you ever heard or saw in the West about classic Japanese culture, from bunraku (classical puppet theatre) through geishas, samurai, Zen-like philosophy, sword-making, kimonos, calligraphy and so on and on. You name it, they have it.

With regard to the cultural depictions, I wasn’t happy with the fact these obviously Japanese characters were speaking in English, to the point I even checked for a Japanese dub option (no luck). It felt like the creators sent out a casting call for any Hollywood voice talent with somewhat Asian origins, e.g. Song, born in California to Thai parents, and having Kenneth Branagh putting on a dodgy Irish accent doesn’t help. Were all genuinely Celtic actors unavailable? 

Episode 6 really knocked my socks off. It played virtually like a computer game: think Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft going through different levels of the game, plus elements from Resident Evil for good measure. I’m not saying it was bad. so much as unexpected. It’s also a point when it became harder to suspend my disbelief concerning Mizu’s abilities. I mean, how many people can you still fight, after one of your feet gets perforated? Or fighting a dozen-plus armed men without a weapon? Or carrying a man on her back, hanging from her sword on a stone wall, then climbing with said sword in her mouth (!) to safety on higher ground? Are we really sure she is not the child of a supernatural monster? I’m willing to believe this woman is exceptional, but this was a bit much. Mizu gets dangerously close to the superheroes of popular comic-book movies who can do anything, and usually do.

Part 6 was my favourite of the entire show, because it removed all the extraneous elements (hello, Taigen, Ringo and Akemi!), leaving it a blow-dart episode – all it had was point, simply Mizu fighting her way inexorably towards her goal. Which was what I came here to see, frankly.

What saves the character’s depiction again and again, is the makers never make it easy for her. She bleeds a lot over the course of the story. Mizu is shown making mistakes, and is not a hero since, as much as you sympathize with her goal, it is in the end selfish. I attribute the fact she survives this season to her remarkable physical skills, absolute die-hard dedication to her self-set cause, the help of her (very often smarter) allies and an enormous portion of luck. Which… works for me, though I’d have wished for a bit more realism in a show that explicitly is not fantasy. What is impressive is the visual style. A lot of work went into the landscapes, the backgrounds, and probably researching how ancient Japanese houses, buildings and temples looked. There are a lot of little details that you may overlook when watching the show for the first time. Also, as expected, the voice performances by actors such as Erskine, Takei, Branagh, Tagawa and many others are excellent.

I agree, the animation was great, especially in the action scenes, which were probably as good as anything I’ve seen this side of a Miyazaki movie. Fluid, and assembled in a way that certainly seemed cinematic. It was often easy to forget you were watching animation, and that’s close to the highest praise I can give the medium. Plot-wise, the main storyline was also excellent. I loved the fact that Mizu is single-mindedly focused on her revenge. That it might help avoid the Shogun being overthrown is utterly irrelevant to her.

It must be said that Mizu herself is a character ‘work in progress’. As mentioned, less a hero, than driven by years of abuse, mistreatment, non-acceptance, anxiety and sheer hatred. I guess any little boy with red hair and glasses who was harassed in class can understand her. The feeling of not being part of society or a group, of being rejected due to just being how you are, is something many people will identify with. Though again: does it justify a violent rampage on a merciless one-woman war against the person that fathered you? Hardly. The feeling is softened by the fact Abijah Fowler, who may be her biological father, is a real piece of abhorrent trash. He is a disgusting, almost inhuman, pervert, who deserves his just deserts.

Interestingly, the final fight between Mizu and Fowler is the catalyst for the fire of 1657 which devastated Edo (today’s Tokyo). Perhaps the message here is, if you follow only your own egotistic trail – Mizu’s wish for revenge and Fowler’s to take over Japan – you risk turning into a destructive force that causes more harm than good. I hope Mizu might realize her thirst for revenge is not the best motive, but rather acting to prevent the mayhem Fowler and his people would bring to the world if allowed to run it. This would make Mizu a real heroine and earn her my respect. Perhaps indicators for such a development can be spotted when Mizu decides to save her “frenemy” Taigen from death. If the show is willing to follow this developing character trait, it could evolve into something very beautiful and extra-ordinary. We will see.

It ends on something of a cliff-hanger, without much resolved. Yet where it’s going has me genuinely interested, and it’s quite possible the (already announced) second season may end up addressing most of the issues. In particular, some of the more annoying characters look likely to be left behind!

In a time where female protagonists get everything they need or want on a platter, without having to do the hard work, make difficult decisions or sacrifices, a character like Mizu feels different. She has character flaws, feels pain and has to become a better person, not just to achieve her own goals, but better the world around her. That is what popular fiction needs right now, and Hollywood screenwriters should take notice. That’s how you should write a character: flawed, not perfect. If your character can already do everything and is perfect you end up with boring, bland characters like Rey or Captain Marvel. So, while still a bit too superwoman and “Xena-ish” for me, Mizu is a big step in the right direction. Despite some complaints, the show as a whole exceeds the large majority of current female-centered TV and films. I hope it might inspire other producers to learn from its example. This is how you do female empowerment right, without hitting both sexes of your audience on the head with messages or propaganda.

Creators: Amber Noizumi and Michael Green
Star (voice): Maya Erskine, Masi Oka, Kenneth Branagh, Darren Barnet

The Incendiary World of Firestarter

  By

Firestarter (1984)

By Jim McLennan

★★½
“I’m the trouble starter, punkin’ instigator…”

It’s somewhat ironic that John Carpenter was originally supposed to direct this. However, after The Thing tanked at the box-office, he was let go from the project, and replaced by the more commercially “safe” Lester. The irony being that The Thing is now regarded (rightfully) as one of the greatest scifi/horror films of all time, while this is… not. It’s very much a mid-tier Stephen King adaptation, far less well remembered than the similarly themed The Dead Zone, from around the same time. I can understand why: it’s lumbering when it needs to be taut, needlessly coming in a little shy of two hours, and only comes to life at the end, when a pissed-off Drew gets enough XP to learn her Level 3 Fireball spell.

She plays Charlie McGee, daughter of Andrew (Keith) and Vicky (Heather Locklear), who met during a fringe scientific experiment, carried out by a dodgy arm of the government. Dosed with a substance called Lot 6, she can read minds, and he can compel people to act in accordance with his will. Charlie, meanwhile… Oh, see the title. Or the poster. Figure it out for yourself. Though the stiff breeze which springs up out of nowhere, each time she furrows her little brow and gets toasty, is a nice touch. Naturally, the government under Captain Hollister (Sheen) are very keen to get their hands on her, with psycho Indian hitman John Rainbird (Scott) eventually sent out to bring in Charlie. 

There’s quite a lot here which has not stood the test of time, and/or wasn’t very good to begin with. Top of the list is likely Keith’s performance, which feels like a poorly conceived effort to channel Patrick Swayze. Scott is creepy, for all the wrong reasons. Rainbird’s relationship with Charlie feels inappropriate from a 2020’s angle, and few people are likely less appropriate to play a native American than Gen. Patton. The film’s main strength is Barrymore, who alternates between adorability and frankly being damn scary. Every other minute, you want to hug her… while wrapped safely in a fireproof suit. At the age of eight, I guess she was still a couple of years from going into rehab.

While the structure largely mirrors the book, doing so probably doesn’t help, beginning when Charlie and her father are already on the run. This then requires a series of clunky flashbacks to get us caught up, and there is too much sitting around the lab, getting father and daughter to demonstrate their talents. Charlie probably isn’t the only one to issue a derisive snort when she is presented with a pile of wood chips. When things do eventually get going though, this is deliciously well-done (in the steak sense, at least), a throwback to the days in Hollywood when wanting to blow stuff up, required actually blowing stuff up. I would nod in acceptance if you told me the finale was responsible for starting off global warming. It just doesn’t quite make up for the 105 minutes which preceded it.

Dir: Mark L. Lester
Star: David Keith, Drew Barrymore, George C. Scott, Martin Sheen
A version of this review previously appeared on Film Blitz

Firestarter (2022)

By Dieter

★★★
“The fire-devil is back!”

I must admit: While I always found the premise for Stephen King’s 1980 novel Firestarter interesting, I never read the book. 500 small-printed pages are just too much for me. The story itself shares some of its DNA with Carrie, with the difference that this here is about a younger child, not an adolescent, and instead of telekinesis the girl knows pyrokinesis, meaning she can create fire from nowhere and control it. It could be argued that King was just kind of re-using ideas from Carrie, making less of an effort to create something original as he did with other material. Opinions on the story seem to be split. Some think it’s a great novel, of the usual King quality; others think it’s a typical work from the time when King was writing as if he were on the run, and striking while the iron was hot (honestly, I don’t really see he has slowed down so much over the years).

Anyway, the novel became a 1984 movie, with all the qualities and flaws a Stephen King adaptation had in the 80s, featuring then-child star Drew Barrymore (gosh, I just realize while I’m typing that she is as old as I am!) a considerable ensemble of actors, a soundtrack by Tangerine Dream and – for its time – impressive pyro special effects. The film’s reception was lukewarm but it went on to become a success on VHS. In Germany, the title translates as “The Firedevil”, which in German means somebody who likes to play with fire. A sequel, albeit unrelated in story and without any King input, came out as as a TV miniseries in 2002 to similarly questionable results as far as fan opinions go. The main character was still Charlie, but now all grown-up. Strangely, the villain of the original piece was still alive there which made zero sense if you witnessed his demise at the end of the movie.

So here is the 2022 version, produced by Blumhouse, a studio with a very good reputation for first-class horror movies today, and also gave us great non-genre movies like Whiplash. Martha de Laurentiis, co-producing wife of the late Dino de Laurentiis (involved in a number of King adaptations in the 80s) has a producer’s credit, although she died last year at cancer. Akiva Goldsman who was chosen to direct the movie before being replaced, also got a producing credit, which doesn’t necessarily mean much nowadays.

The new Firestarter does its best not to just repeat the story beats of the 1984 movie, though by doing so is less close to the original King novel. The beginning of the movie shows young girl Charlie (Armstrong) in school being bullied by one of those ugly red-haired boys we all know from 1970s movies (nasty then, nasty now – talk about discrimination against red-haired children!). It reminded me quite a bit of Carrie, though it’s just a few scenes and serves little more purpose than to illustrate Charlie’s problems in general.

Her parents (Efron – suddenly grown up; wasn’t he just a boy yesterday? – and Lemmon) have been on the run for a long time: After being involved in an experiment that gave them paranormal powers,the secret government organisation that conducted these experiments, “The Shop”, want their child. Therefore – and a bonus point to the screenwriter for taking modern communication and tracking opportunities into account – they have been staying away from the Internet and mobile phones. I was therefore surprised when Charlie in a key scene of the movie suddenly came up with one.

These forces are on the track of the family again, after an outbreak of fire in school and Charlie burns the arms of her mother in a fit of rage. It’s funny to compare the latter scene in old and new movies. Nothing much worth mentioning happened to the mother in the original, but a great fuss was made about it. Here, she has what feel like at least second-degree burns, and the parents behave as if it were nothing in front of Charlie. Let’s go have some ice-cream! What kind of message is being sent to young parents, folks?

The Shop is now under the management of Captain Hollister (Gloria Reuben), who send apparently disgraced operative John Rainbird (Greyeyes) to get Charlie back. She is seen by Hollister as having great potential, though original leader of the experiment, Doctor Wanless (Kurtwood Smith in a cameo), fears an unmeasurable threat from the girl’s potential when she comes into full control of her power. Charlie’s mom resists Rainbird and dies in the confrontation, causing father and daughter to go on the run, where Dad’s ability to influence people telepathically comes in handy.

They find sanctuary with recluse Manders (John Beasley), only to be discovered by the police and Rainbird shortly after. While Charlie gets away, her father is caught and is brought back to the lab. After training to control her powers in the woods, a scene that feels two minutes long, Charlie comes to free her Dad. Although “The Shop” does its best to get her under control, the girl prevails, burning all those who threaten her.

Firestarter is a strange beast with a difficult task: Retaining the core of the original story but not being to close too the orignal movie. Paying tribute to current political correctness, yet not changing the original material too much. For most of the time, they do fine, I’d say. Some changes did catch my eye: the conflict between the parents wasn’t there, as far as I remember, in the original movie. The mother wants Charlene to train so she can control her powers, the father would rather she suppress them, for who knows what may come out of them being released? In contrast, the original spent more time with Dad and daughter in the lab, the evil Rainbird slowly gaining Charlie’s confidence in order to kill her when appropriate. It went more for slow menacing tension – also the approach of King’s novel – while this plays more as a “fugitives-on-the-run” scenario.

But the biggest change is the John Rainbird. In the original, he was played by elderly over-weight “evil uncle” George C. Scott. In no circumstance would he ever have been considered a Native American. Here, he is played by Canadian and Cree actor Michael Greyeyes, though Rainbird in the books was Cherokee. Perhaps because Hollywood thinks it can’t allow villains to be an ethnic minority, the character is slightly changed: Rainbird works for the organisation, because it is suggested they are too powerful. He himself was betrayed by them, and seems to have been part of the experiment, gaining certain supernatural powers. Here, Rainbird helps Charlie, ready to accept his death. Strangely, she spares his life and while the building behind her burns, takes his hand and they walk away. Make out of that ending what you want: it’s definitely not King’s.

It seems a lot of critics disliked the new movie. As a whole I can’t condemn taking a different approach to the story. I’m not even sure if I would call the new movie “woke”, though it definitely has woke moments. Director Keith Thomas, does fine, I think. The movie is atmospheric, has more focus on the parents and their differences over how to raise their daughter, and there is some genuine tension, e. g. when Rainbird confronts Charlie’s mother. What really astonished me is the musci by John Carpenter and his son Cody. Yes, that Carpenter. I don’t know how they got him to do the music: he directed the King adaptation Christine in the 80s and was the original choice for that Firestarter, so that may have something to do with it.

What’s my judgement? The new movie isn’t bad. Acting-wise I’d even say it’s better; I especially prefer Michael Greyeyes’s performance to the ham-fisted approach of Scott. But if I had to chose… I’d stick with the original. That had the “oh, she is so cute” Barrymore factor and a really, really impressive cast, which this movie only can dream of. The pyro FX party at the end is much more impressive than the toned-down finale here. There is also the “zeitgeist factor” to consider. In 1984 you could still accept and be fascinated by the idea of a girl who can create and control fire. In 2022, with Pyro, Dark Phoenix or Sunspot doing similar or more impressive things, Charlie’s powers just aren’t as fascinating as they used to be.

Dir: Keith Thomas
Star: Zac Efron, Ryan Kiera Armstrong, Sydney Lemmon, Michael Greyeyes

Firestarter, by Stephen King

By Jim McLennan

Literary rating: ★★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

Having watched both versions of the film, I followed up by reading the book on which they were based. Despite my general fondness for horror, I haven’t read very much Stephen King: this is only the second novel of his, after Salem’s Lot. First thought: at 576 pages in the mass paperback edition, it’s quite a door-stopper, and you can see the problems in adapting a work of that size into a movie. Inevitably, a lot of the detail and nuance is going to be excised. There’s no doubt, the 1984 version is more faithful; the 2022 adaptation takes the basic concept of a young girl with pyrokinetic powers, on the run from the government with her father, and does its own thing, more or less.

How you feel about those different approaches, probably depends on how you feel about the original book. Despite the length, it wasn’t a chore; I was typically reading 25-30 minutes a night, and never felt like it was a burden. King had a relatively straightforward style, that’s generally easy to read. The novel does, like the 1984 film, move back and forth in the time-line. It begins with Charlie and her dad trying to escape the experimental government program which spawned them, only later filling in how they got to this point – both the events of that program, and the subsequent surveillance, leading to the death of her mother. This, to me, worked better on the page than the screen, where it ended up becoming too convoluted.

You get a good deal more background on “The Shop”, the murky federal group behind everything, and its employees. In particular, a good portion is told from the perspective of near-insane operative, John Rainbird, Here, he’s very badly disfigured, the result of a friendly-fire incident in the Vietnam War, which seems to have helped push him over the edge. His madness is considerably more apparent in the book, along with the dubious nature of his psychological attachment to – almost dependence on – Charlie. The novel also delves deeper into Charlies’ internal struggle for self-control, fighting to keep hold of her talent, rather than letting it rule her.

While both film versions end with her fiery escape from the shop, albeit in radically different ways, the book has a fairly lengthy coda. [spoilers follow]. This covers Charlie’s return to the Manders farm, where she finds sanctuary once more. Inevitably, however, word seeps out and the Shop pay a visit, only to find their target already left. The novel finishes with Charlie arriving at the offices of Rolling Stone magazine, ready to tell her story. From a 2022 viewpoint, this had not aged well, with that publication now a de facto mouthpiece for the establishment, with as much counter-culture credibility as Teen Vogue or Buzzfeed. However, this remains an entertaining read, and if such a talent ever existed, you sense the events it depicts are quite plausibly how things could go down. Here’s hoping we never find out.

Author: Stephen King
Publisher: Pocket Books, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Standalone novel.

Mortal Engines

  By

Dieter: ★★★½
Jim: ★★★

“Meals on Wheels.”

Note from Jim: A slightly different approach here, with Dieter and myself collaborating on this review, so it’s going to be more of a back-and-forth, and also rather longer than our usual reviews! So get a cup of coffee… And a sandwich. :)

Top of the Flops?

Mortal Engines did, indeed, prove very mortal. Variety estimated it would possibly lose $125 million. The film failed to make back even its $100 million budget worldwide, never mind marketing costs, closing out at a mere $82 million. Let’s start by discussing cinematic failure in general.

Dieter: Sometimes it seems a film’s fate is decided before anyone has actually seen it, or before countless movie reviewers copy what other movie reviewers already wrote. It becomes a meme, repeated by everyone and spreading like a virus, until it becomes a reality and the respective movie then really flops or becomes a great success. A couple of years ago, when the first trailer for the Edgar Rice Burroughs’ adaptation John Carter came out, people saw the fight between the hero and the giant white gorillas in the trailer and decided it was a Star Wars rip-off, John Carter was done. Not even I watched it in the cinema. I regretted that later when discovering the movie on DVD and found it to be a sympathetic, enjoyable SF-actioner.

My theory is this: A potential cinemagoer sees a trailer and immediately decides whether or not they will like a movie – or at least give it a chance. And it’s usually not a rational choice, just a gut feeling, a kind of “I like it, that looks good / funny / exciting,” or “Nah, that’s nonsense / stupid / don’t like that actor / actress”, etc. Afterwards people try to rationalize why, and come up with a lot of different reasons that – when looked more closely at – are not that logical at all. I think this also is true for a lot of reviewers.

I do remember that in the 80s, we used to go into a movie without prior knowledge other than maybe a poster or trailer. We either liked it or not, and that was it. Now – and I’m as guilty as anyone – we read and watch countless reviews, look at sites like rottentomatoes and try to “nitpick”. If there is a single little thing we don’t like or consider as flawed, it increases exponentially in size for us compared to other aspects, and we end up discounting a movie entirely, due to this one element. This may be why it feels we have a tougher time just enjoying movies today.

Jim: There are times when it does feel almost pre-determined that a film will bomb: it’s rare for a “surprise flop”. I think marketing has become much more of an exact science these days, to the point that a film’s opening weekend can usually be projected fairly accurately beforehand. John Carter is a good example of a film which was dead on arrival. There’s no apparent logic to it, in terms of quality. I mean Cutthroat Island is not great, but it’s decent enough. I could name half a dozen worse movies, without leaving Michael Bay’s filmography.

Yet, not all flops are equal, it seems. Browse Wikpedia’s list of box-office bombs for the last couple of years. Notorious, well-known bombs like Valerian, The Mummy and Geostorm. But potentially worse than any of those was… A Wrinkle In Time? They kept that a bit quieter – the paranoid in me suspects because it went against the multicultural narrative being pushed with the success of Black Panther. But even there, it was not a surprise, least of all to Disney.

But specifically, where did Engines break down?

Mortally wounded

Dieter: When the first trailers for this Young Adult Sci-Fi/Steampunk book adaptation with franchise ambitions came out, a majority of online reviewers reacted with “Cities on wheels that devour other cities? Nah, that’s stupid nonsense – much too fantastical!”. Insert a rant from me how audiences are able to accept many other VERY fantastical and nonsensical concepts. They clearly didn’t have this problem with Into the Spider-verse or Aquaman. Still, something didn’t “click” with them and that may have been the death knell for this movie, regardless of its qualities or failings. That’s kind of regrettable, I think. Despite the movie’s undoubted flaws, it actually offers an interesting new concept.

Maybe audiences don’t really want something new. They want something that feels fresh and new – but essentially is still the same. It’s a strange kind of contradiction that is difficult for film studios to deal with. For all its shortcomings, The Last Jedi tried to do something new, and split the fandom (I didn’t like this movie either, by the way!). On the other hand, James Bond is a series that has obviously managed to re-invent itself again and again, yet still maintains most of its core audience. So count me among the people who don’t think that cities on wheels is too bonkers a premise!

Jim: It wasn’t helped by an almost complete lack of star power. Beyond Hugo Weaving, it has a guy who gets killed early in Resident Evil and Balon Greyjoy. [I’m excluding Stephen Lang, whose role is…limited, shall we say] This is also a difficult concept to get over quickly, in a way that (as Dieter notes) doesn’t sound silly, and that’s what films need to do in order to create momentum. ‘From the producers of Lord of the Rings’ doesn’t hold nearly as much weight as it did, considering it’s now 15 years since the end of that trilogy.

And live-action fantasy generally has had a rough go of it lately. The Dark Tower. Seventh Son. Pan. The BFG. All based from reasonably popular literature with a built-in audience. All released since the start of 2015. All bombs. Counter-examples of commercial success over the same time are hard to find, save Harry Potter prequels and Disney’s live-action efforts such as Beauty and the Beast. If people want fantasy, these days it seems as if they turn on Game of Thrones instead.

The play’s the thing…

Thousands of years in the future, after something called “The 60-minute war”, the knowledge of our world today has been lost. But new technology has enabled mankind to put their cities on wheels. These predators now roll over the wasted earth and “devour” other cities, to get the resources necessary to function, in what is called “municipal Darwinism”.

In one such hunt, Hester Shaw (Hilmar) boards London. A mysterious woman with a red scarf over her face – strangely, no one ever seems to find that suspicious! – she attacks Thaddeus Valentine (Weaving), Head of the Guild of Historians, in a failed assassination attempt. She escapes by dropping into an exit shaft, shortly followed by historian assistant Tom Natsworthy (Sheehan), pushed in by Valentine after overhearing Hester’s claims he killed her mother.

Together the mismatched pair try to get back to London, and stop Valentine, who is trying to put together an old superweapon in order to destroy the “Great Wall” in the East. Beyond it, the so-called “anti-tractionists” still have static conurbations, which would offer great food for London. Meanwhile, on Hester’s trail is Shrike, a re-animated cyborg who wants to punish her for for not keeping a promise to join him in cyborgness.

Been there, seen that…

Dieter: You can already predict how this will develop – and that’s one of the big shortcomings: We know this plot and many of its tropes too well, leaving too little of any element of surprise. For some people that’s already enough to discard the movie; though I understand that, I’d always argue it’s not the best reason. Still, there are elements reminding me directly of Hayao Miyazaki classics Laputa: Castle in the Sky and Howl’s Moving Castle; the Mad Max-movies; a Terminator-like character; a female rebel who’d probably feel at home in The Matrix, and a little bit of Terry Gilliam for seasoning. Heck, we even get a classic slave-trading market scene I immediately associated with those beloved old pirate movies from HW’s golden era!

Then there’s the second half of the movie, stealing directly from the Star Wars franchise, though one could argue it’s an age-old plot. But the similarities here are obvious, including the exit via shaft at the beginning, as in The Empire Strikes Back, and a floating city between the clouds. In particular, the superweapon destroyed by a group of courageous rebels has already become such a cliche, it has even started to bore Star Wars fans. And the final revelation about the – oh, gosh – “surprising” special relationship between the heroine and the uber-villain? That has a much longer beard than Hugo Weaving! Though, it has to be said, these things were already in the book – perhaps original author Philip Reeve should be the target of some criticism?

Jim: Holy Miyazaki. Holy Castle in the Sky, especially. Let’s review, shall we?

  • Orphan boy and girl brought together
  • The villain seeks to use ancient technology for military purposes
  • The pair are rescued by sky pirates, operating under the command of a woman
  • A literal flying city
  • Girl has a jewelry heirloom that’s key to stopping the villain
  • She’s also pursued by a large, lethal robot.

I’m sure there’s more, but it has been a good 20 years since I saw Castle. Then we have Howl’s Moving Castle, perhaps the most obvious touchstone for nomadic structures. Now, the book of Mortal Engines did come out before Miyazaki’s film… except the latter was a Studio Ghibli adaptation. The book by Diana Wynne Jones was published in 1984, well before Reeve’s story.

In the second half, as Dieter mentions, it turns into Star Wars, and isn’t subtle about it either. In particular, you have to wonder about the ‘special relationship’, not least because – unlike in the Star Wars universe – it doesn’t go anywhere. It adds nothing, and is almost cringe-inducingly staged here, as if deliberately trying to evoke its predecessor. It’s like having a horror movie where someone is stabbed to death with a carving knife in the shower. There’s inspiration, homage… and then there’s being blatantly obvious.  

Adapting to change

Dieter: An online reviewer got it right when he said this movie feels like the third or fourth movie in a series – the triumphant finale and an ultimate big bang. Unfortunately, without any build-up, you’re left to wonder why you should care, when a just introduced character bites the dust. It’s kind of a waste and I absolutely understand viewer frustration. But then again: It’s really not the screenwriters’ fault. This is how it was in the book. Maybe those in charge should not have stuck to it so closely? But they already took some liberties with the original, removing characters and story-arcs.

As late screenwriting legend William Goldman once wrote: “There is nothing worse than adapting a book for the big screen.” A book has time to develop characters – you don’t usually read a book in two hours – a luxury denied to movies. Inevitably, the question comes up of what to leave out. It really can’t be easy to adapt a book, especially one where a lot happens, as is the case here. For example, largely gone is the secondary couple, Valentine’s daughter Katherine (Leila George) and Bevis Pod (Ronan Raftery), a worker from the lower decks. In the book, chapters alternated between their story, and Hester + Tom, with occasional asides involving Valentine and Shrike). In the movie, we don’t get to see the slowly developing love story between Katherine and Bevis.

Mortal Engines offers a lot of spectacle and fascinating images over its runtime. But, like one of its big cities, the story moves relentlessly from set-piece to set-piece, and from action scene to action scene, hardly ever giving the audience time to take a breath. While we expect blockbusters today to move faster than in previous eras, it has become almost a forgotten art to construct a story or screenplay that allows for quiet. Those moments where you take the time to develop characters, their relationships to each other, have them explain themselves and their attitudes, or where they can expose themselves emotionally.

A good screenplay needs a rhythm: Ups and downs, moments of excitement and relaxation to make the journey enjoyable, like a well-timed roller-coaster ride. These moments are important for audiences – and even if they may not be aware of the need, they definitely miss them when they are not there. Unfortunately, Mortal Engines lacks these; maybe 3-4 times in the entire film, characters are allowed to be emotional and offer some insight into themselves. The rest of the time it’s “bang”, “rudder-rudder”, “peow” and “aawww”, perpetually accompanied by the adequate soundtrack of Junkie XL. I think a good movie should also have some scenes where the makers don’t feel the need to underlay them with music.

Jim: Having not read the book, I’m not qualified to offer much opinion in this area. But I do agree that this didn’t feel like the first entry. It literally begins with cities on wheels, hunting each other. Wait, what? I was thoroughly distracted, trying to figure out how the world got to that point. I get there was a war ‘n’ stuff. It still seems… a bit of a leap, shall we say. This kind of thing is easier to get away with in a book, where there’s not quite the same expectation that everything will necessarily “make sense” on page 1. If you lose your audience in a film, it’s almost impossible to get them back.

More generally, there’s no doubt about the problems adapting from the page to the screen. They are two different media entirely, and what works in one won’t necessarily in the other. Knowing that is essential, and why I don’t have much time for fans of, say, the Resident Evil games complaining about the movies being “different”. No kidding. If they weren’t, the films probably wouldn’t have become the successful franchise they did. But this is why buying the movie rights to a successful book is a minefield. Yes, it comes with a built-in audience. On the other hand, it comes with a built-in audience of critics!

Indirect direction

Dieter: The film was directed by Christopher Rivers, mainly known for his work in special effects, and a protégé of Peter Jackson, Maybe Jackson wanted to help get his career as a director going? Or perhaps Jackson didn’t feel so eager to direct, considering the stress and problems he had with his two Middle Earth trilogies. Despite an underwhelming response to the Hobbit series, the studio prefered to advertise the movie with his name. A stained reputation is better than no reputation at all, I guess, and virtually no one had ever heard of Rivers.

I saw interviews with a very tired looking Jackson, which could probably generate hardly any less enthusiasm in a potentially interested viewer. Little more than, “I liked the book, so I made a film out of it. If enough of you watch it, the studio may order another one. Thank you!” How could these clips be approved by the marketing department?  

I also noticed how everyone involved has been avoiding the “S-word”:  “Steampunk”. It’s very much in that genre but even Jackson said something like “It’s not really steampunk. It may have elements of steampunk, but it’s not a steampunk movie.” My feeling is “steampunk” has a poor reputation among movie studios, as too many movies of that genre have flopped hard in the past. Need I say more than Wild Wild West? The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and, to some extent, The Golden Compass, also show why studios distance themselves from this word.

I wonder if there might have been some studio meddling here, since this would probably have benefitted from being an hour or 30 minutes longer. More time to develop the characters and build a stronger emotional connection to them. But a 2-hour movie means more showings per day. A business decision, not necessary one that supported the storytelling!

Jim: Personally, I wonder when Peter Jackson is going to get to direct a narrative feature he wants to do? Rather than one forced on him by Guillermo Del Toro bailing, as with The Hobbit. His last such was The Lovely Bones, and that was a decade ago. I wonder if he’s “broken,” having gone over to documentaries, first about World War I and, next, The Beatles. Maybe he’s turning into Werner Herzog…

Anyway, Rivers’ background in effects seems obvious here, as the film feels a good deal more confident and on a former footing with the technical aspects than when the actors. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing: James Cameron, to this day, seems to be the same, and he’s done very well for himself. However, Cameron’s first feature didn’t go down in history as one of the biggest flops of the year, and Piranha II: The Spawning also cost considerably less money than Mortal Engines. Is this the biggest loss in a directorial debut? I can’t think of many rivals.

However, unlike Dieter, I didn’t feel the pace of the film was too much of a problem, and think Rivers did a good job of keeping the various balls in the air. Would it have benefited from a greater running time? Perhaps, though I’m not sure economics plays much of a part, since two-hour movies seems to be the norm – going longer does not appear to pose any economic problems.. If you look at the top US box-office hits last year, the shortest in the top six was The Incredibles, and it still ran 118 minutes. The average was 133 minutes. I can’t honestly say that having one fewer screening of Engines per day feels like it would have made much difference.

Acting up

Hera Hilmar (what a name!) is much better as Hester Shaw than feared. The character could have become a parody of itself; my personal worry was that Hilmar would be too soft for the role. But that’s not the case: she gives a tragic character enough depth to be interesting, without overdoing it. The problem is a change from the book. There, her scar goes through half of her face, Hester having lost an eye and her nose is a mere stump. The disfigurement is why she constantly hides much of her face behind a red scarf. She has the scarf in the movie… but why? Film-Hester’s scars are hardly worth mentioning and don’t detract from Hilmar’s natural attractiveness. It’s kind of disrespectful to the original character and the audience.

On the other hand, Robert Sheehan, as Tom Natsworthy, seems to have been chosen mainly due to his big puppy dog eyes and general cuteness: I can easily see teen-girls going gaga over him. But, honestly, he appears a bit bland. Then it has to be said, the character was never especially interesting in the book to begin with, so once again criticism has to go back to the original author. The cyborg Shrike is played by Stephen Lang. While we rarely if ever see Lang’s “real” face, he is probably the most emotionally touching character in the movie. And he’s gone before we know it. Oh, movie, movie… what are you doing?

Weaving delivers his usual good villain performance here. However, the script has again decided to simplify things. In the book, Valentine is doing the bidding of his master, Mayor Magnus Chrome (played here by Patrick Malahide). Valentine is driven by fear he may lose the status he has carefully built as an outsider, and wants to secure his daughter Katherine’s safety. This gives the character at least some understandable motivations for his actions. Unfortunately, the movie ignores this completely: Valentine’s motivation appears to be little more than to show everyone he has the biggest gun of them all! Being evil for evil’s sake: it’s so passé…

Of particular interest to this site is cool Asian action-chick Anna Fang, played by stylish Korean actress/musician Jihae. She frees Tom and Hester from the slave traders and has a nice, almost classic duel with Weaving at the end. Fang comes across like the Steampunk-action-girl you’d like to find out more about… The film, however, has other plans. Though Philip Reeve’s new book in the universe, Night Flights, will fill that need, if you’re interested.

Jim: There’s no doubt, Hilmar is the engine which powers the film. Sheehan is blandness personified at an almost Twilight-like level, and there are almost no moments at which you are made to care for Tom. Indeed, he could have been excised from the film entirely, and it would have made little or no difference: this is Hester’s story, and she has a genuine character arc, something the “hero” isn’t given. The makers seem to realize this when it comes to the finale, as Tom is left on the sidelines, while Hester and Anna taking over. Perhaps they are the ones who should have been teamed up from the start?

I’d seen Jihae before, playing twin sisters in the Mars mini-series, but she makes for an excellent supporting character here. A spin-off franchise of her adventures and derring-do beckons. Er, or perhaps did beckon, before the main feature crashed and burned. However, I think in general actors tend to escape from bombs much better than those behind the camera. Even Tom Cruise has had his share of flops. Hopefully Hilmar will also be able to move on; Dieter will perhaps fight me over this, but I got a little Noomi Rapace vibe from her. Maybe it’s just the “Scandinavian actress” thing. That’s impressive enough in itself, considering English is not her first language.

I liked Weaving, though will always find it hard to see him without muttering “Mr. Anderson….” under my breath, ever time he speaks [which made parts of Lord of the Rings tricky to watch!]. I did understand Valentine’s motivations for what he does: he wants to ensure the survival of London, by any means necessary, and if that involves taking from others, so be it. I guess whether that inevitably makes him the “bad guy” may depend on your philosophical perspective, since has been (and continues to be) the basis of Western civilization. Which brings us nicely to…

A partly political broadcast

Dieter: There’s a degree of politically correct representation going on, with the “anti-tractionists” being multi-ethnic and diverse, while London – differently from today – being mainly Caucasian, with the exception of Colin Salmon as museum director Pomeroy. While I personally don’t mind that, it was quite obvious, but thankfully without directly blurting out some social justice message. And then – I think I’m starting to sound like a broken record – it’s the way it was in the book.

Jim. In contrast – perhaps due to not having read the book – I felt the film did contain unsubtle attempts at political commentary, with the West literally the bad guy here. It’s not just Thaddeus Valentine: when his weapon causes carnage in the East’s multicultural society and blasts a hole in the wall, the population of London is shown cheering wildly. It’s as subtle as showing 9/11 footage, then cutting to Muslims dancing in the streets. I also noted an odd announcement as the residents of Salzhaken are embarking into London: “Be aware, children may be temporarily separated from parents.” Hmm, Trump reference much? Yet ironically, the film works as an excellent advertisement for the merits of a good, strong wall, keeping out the foreign hordes who are seeking to plunder your region’s wealth. Oops…

In the end…

Jim: I’m reminded of Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Kerry Conran’s 2004 film. Both were debuts, effects-heavy action fantasies with an aerial bias… and both proved box-office failures. You could even draw a line between Angelina Jolie’s Commander Franky Cook as an ancestor of Anna Fang. Sky Captain has become something of a cult item, so perhaps there’s hope for Engines. Though not as groundbreaking in terms of its FX, it does still have a strong sense of visual style. Rivers keeps the camera almost in perpetual motion, swooping around and through the scenes and characters.

It’s this aspect which is the most successful, the kind of film I can see myself picking up on Blu-Ray eventually (albeit at the $5.99 level!), for the spectacle. While the setting needs more explanation, as a physical entity, there are no such shortcomings, and it does work nicely as cinematic eye-candy. However, there are too many problems elsewhere, from a poor choice of hero through a forgettable soundtrack [really, techno for steampunk?], for this to be regarded as an all-round success. That said, nor did it deserve to fail so spectacularly, and deserves praise for at least offering something different in style and setting – if not story.

Dieter: As a large-budget entertainment blockbuster, this delivers the required spectacle, visuals and big bangs, and there’s hardly anything technical you could complain about. The problem is a script which freely copies well-known tropes, elements and plots that we have seen far too often in similar blockbusters. This is indeed a negative, unless you are a teen, haven’t seen many of these movies and don’t know Star Wars! The screenplay also wasn’t able to adapt the book intelligently enough. While it managed to capture the basic plot adequately, not leaving anything essential out, I must say a lot of the decisions didn’t just simplify the story, they dumbed it down. I’m sorry to say, the team that brought us Lord of the Rings could have used a hand there.

The actors mostly give competent to good performances. It’s not their fault if the characters are bland, and some dialogue is as flat as if a rolling city drove over it!  I particularly “bought” Hera Hilmar in her role. It’s only her second big film, after Inferno, and I would like to see her, as well as Jihae, again. Sadly, maybe that chance has gone. Certainly, steampunk still awaits its magnum opus. This could have been it. While it isn’t, Mortal Engines is still much better than previous attempts in this specific sub-genre.

This rolling city epic disappoints, because I feel it could have been and should have been better. However, if you are just here for some big colourful loud screen spectacle you could fare much worse. But then, better, too. At least Hester had a very realistic view on life at the end of the book: “You aren’t a hero, and I’m not beautiful, and we probably won’t live happily ever after. But we’re alive, and together, and we’re going to be all right.”

Dir: Christian Rivers
Star: Hera Hilmar, Robert Sheehan, Hugo Weaving, Jihae