Certificate: 12A (intense sequences of violence and action)
Directed By: Andrew Stanton
Cast: Taylor Kitsch, Lynn Collins, Mark Strong, Willem Dafoe, Samantha Morton, Thomas Haden Church, Ciarán Hinds, Dominic West, James Purefoy, Polly Walker, Bryan Cranston
Budget: $250 million
Runtime: 132 minutes
Trailer: Watch
John Carter (Kitsch) is a world-weary civil war veteran who goes looking for gold in the Apache territories. Upon stumbling into a cave he finds a mysterious amulet which whooshes him off to Mars - or as the natives call it, Barsoom. There Carter quickly discovers he has super strength and can leap a hundred feet into the air. He is taken in by rather primitive green martians called 'Tharks' who are caught in the middle of two warring, red-tinged humanoid factions. These are the tyrannical Zodangans and those of the last free city of Helium. When he saves the beautiful Heliumite Princess Dejah (Collins), pacifist Carter finds himself sucked into the conflict.
This is of course a shamelessly overt parallel to the 1880s Earth from which Carter just arrived, neatly summed up by the Thark leader Tars Tarkas (Dafoe) who says "let red men kill red men until only Tharks remain". The analogy is clear; the Tharks represent the Native Americans while the Zodangans and Heliumites are the Confederate and Union sides of America's civil war. But that's about as deep as this gets. The Tharks aren't being pushed out of their lands and subject to extinction by the red man, rather they're left quite to their own devices. Certainly John Carter's allegory isn't quite as poignant as the one in Cowboys & Aliens, even if it was sanitised for American audiences. While this all sounds pretty simplistic, Andrew Stanton's adaptation of Edgar Rice Burrough's novel does much to confuse its audience. There's Therns, Tharks, ninth rays and everything else therein which doesn't bode well for artistic coherence. Just what the hell is a ninth ray isolate? Who are these Therns which resemble 'the observers' from Fringe? What is their role in all this? Well, John Carter certainly won't pretend to give you the answers.
Convoluted plots aren't the only problem with John Carter. For starters some of the dialogue is pure cringe. In an appeal to Carter's emotions, Dejah emphatically begs "Will you stay and fight - for Helium?!". Later, rallying his troops, Carter cries "If Helium falls, so does Barsoom!". One can't help but wince. The battle scenes, although pretty, nonetheless feel somewhat lacklustre. They are short and to the point, but not as epic as you might expect from a film this grandiose in ambition and budget. This is particularly the case with the final showdown where one really doesn't get the impression it is the battle to decide the fate of the planet. More so, it looks and plays out like an abridged version of what went down at the end of Flash Gordon. In fact, everything in John Carter seems compressed, which is strange given its punishing runtime. This is overly long without reason, and doesn't make adequate use of the time to develop its plot strands. The result is that it remains desultory, bland and difficult to follow, emitting a peculiarly heavy feeling for a Disney action film. This isn't helped by a script which shies away from wit and lacks the fun of other Disney titles in the same bracket, namely Pirates of the Caribbean.
Indeed, most surprising of all is how extraordinarily violent this is for a Disney movie. You see, I was brought up on a diet of Aladdin and the Lion King where the clear distinction between good and evil was drawn. By the end of the movie, peace and love would always triumph and the few deaths which did happen were portrayed tactfully for their younger audiences. Here, hacking and slashing is common place in a world where there is no pussyfooting around death. In one scene after a tumultuous battle we see the victors piling corpses in a neat little stack. Is this the Disney I remember from childhood? More importantly, is this fitting for a 12A rating? While I still get a warm fuzzy feeling and an invigorated sense of hope and optimism whenever I watch a Disney film from my childhood, it is a wonder if this 'new direction' for the company is going to result in a generation desensitised to violence and shrouded in moral ambiguity.
Perhaps most disappointingly however are the film's two lead roles. Kitsch is pretty impassive for an action hero and borders on vapid. The only emotion you'll get out of him is if you attempt to restrict this man's liberty. Pray you don't, else you'll see a fully grown man morph into a toddler who literally kicks and screams until he gets his way. Despite her sexy muscular thighs, Collins isn't much more enlivening. Princess Dejah is just straight up confused. One moment a brilliant scientist, the next a fearsome warrior heroin not afraid to go balls deep, only to become your traditional ditzy damsel in distress. Unfortunately you can't be all of them, love, and it is this which makes her character unsympathetic altogether. More incredulous is the two's budding romance where within a mere five minutes the two are madly in love. It's a difficult one to swallow, especially as the two are shown to be constantly wary, tiptoeing around one another for fear of intruding on the other's space.
At least John Carter is very visually impressive. This might be expected given that Stanton, the man involved with Pixar greats such as Toy Story and Wall▪E, is at the helm. There's motion-captured Tharks, airships which resembles dragonflies and arresting vistas of a sparkling Helium. If anything else, this is stunning to look at. And it may as well be given its obscene budget of $250million, which exceeds even that of Marvel's The Avengers. However, for all its visual splendour it is everything else which lets John Carter down, which is shown in losses of $200million (£126million) due to poor box-office results. Granted, it hardly has the most awe-inspiring titles but what's more puzzling however is that for all its CGI magnificence it's difficult to tell where else this absurd amount of money has been spent on what is a very niche adaptation, even for the nerd community. John Carter stars names which skirt the periphery of Hollywood, mostly British actors who are notoriously hired based on their relative 'cheapness' vis-a-vis their American colleagues. Indeed, they are hardly paying a cohort of Brad Pitts and Angelina Jolies here.
Despite Disney ploughing enough money into John Carter to solve world hunger, the end result falls way short of expectations. At best it might be considered a passable action adventure, but a convoluted storyline, made more confusing by a bunch of absurd names do much to undermine what is otherwise an aesthetically pleasing film.
Showing posts with label James Purefoy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James Purefoy. Show all posts
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Friday, 29 July 2011
Film Review: Ironclad
The story of democracy in Britain is often portrayed to begin and end with the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215. However, unbeknownst to many, the signing of this legendary document wasn't the end of it. Never really intending to grant the unprecedented liberties he felt coerced into signing, bad King John quickly sought to reverse the charter by eliminating the rebel barons. Standing in his way was the strategically situated Rochester Castle, manned by only a few-hundred rebels. Ironclad seeks to shed light on this little known annex of British history, but it is less historical fact than it is a rewrite of The Magnificent Seven.
Ironclad pretty much picks up where Ridley Scott's Robin Hood left off. 1215. Having been forced to sign the Magna Carta, King John (Giamatti) hires a bunch of Danish mercenaries to eradicate the Barons which humiliated him. Dispersed and reluctant to fight, only one Baron, William de Albany (Cox) stands in King John's way. Pulling together less than a dozen men, including a highly trained Templar Knight, Marshall (Purefoy), Albany's band of merry men must hold onto the strategically positioned Rochester Castle until the French arrive to bail them out (no joke).
Simply, Ironclad is a gore-fest aimed at indiscriminate action fans. It is not a historical epic by any means, sacrificing accuracy for a cheesy tale of stoic heroism that will appeal to teenage boys' wet dreams of 300-style martyrdom. Indeed, there aren't the hundreds of rebels which history (well, wikipedia) suggests. Instead, the defending rebels have been whittled down to less than twenty, facing a barbaric horde of thousands of vikings in countless monotonous shots of close-up limb hacking.
The characters are the stock standard for this kind of affair. Mackenzie Crook plays some sort of Legolas role as a crack-shot archer, there's some tough guy, some guy with questionable morals but who's probably good at heart, and your quiet, stoic, hero-type who hacks off limbs in really cool ways and speaks little, but when he does it's invariably profound. Of course, Purefoy's Marshall is going to provide the main attraction for any medieval wench, and Kate Mara's Lady Isabel provides the eye candy as a horny harlot bent on destroying Marshall's years of devotion to God through his vow of chastity. It is actually quite cringe-worthy to watch Marshall spend half his time trying to fend off the increasingly comic come-ons of the sex-starved Lady Isabel, who slinks around the castle like a half-minded sex pest. Perhaps the most enjoyable parts however involve Giamatti's King John as a permanently irate arsehole. He's petty and cruel like a deranged toddler with a divine birthright making for a good villain. And yet he inevitably suffers from the same flaws as everybody else in this movie; being wholly one-dimensional.
Ironclad is your quintessential prefabricated medieval romp but feels about as epic as a TV mini-series. You can never really take it very seriously, even being slightly reminiscent of Monty Python and the Holy Grail in some parts as King John and the Albany hurl insults at each other over the battlements. "You're no more a king than the boil on my arse" bellows the Baron as you half expect the retort "I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries". Like sieges in general, Ironclad is slow, dull and monotonous, punctuated by the occasional gratuitous violence.
Ironclad pretty much picks up where Ridley Scott's Robin Hood left off. 1215. Having been forced to sign the Magna Carta, King John (Giamatti) hires a bunch of Danish mercenaries to eradicate the Barons which humiliated him. Dispersed and reluctant to fight, only one Baron, William de Albany (Cox) stands in King John's way. Pulling together less than a dozen men, including a highly trained Templar Knight, Marshall (Purefoy), Albany's band of merry men must hold onto the strategically positioned Rochester Castle until the French arrive to bail them out (no joke).
Simply, Ironclad is a gore-fest aimed at indiscriminate action fans. It is not a historical epic by any means, sacrificing accuracy for a cheesy tale of stoic heroism that will appeal to teenage boys' wet dreams of 300-style martyrdom. Indeed, there aren't the hundreds of rebels which history (well, wikipedia) suggests. Instead, the defending rebels have been whittled down to less than twenty, facing a barbaric horde of thousands of vikings in countless monotonous shots of close-up limb hacking.
The characters are the stock standard for this kind of affair. Mackenzie Crook plays some sort of Legolas role as a crack-shot archer, there's some tough guy, some guy with questionable morals but who's probably good at heart, and your quiet, stoic, hero-type who hacks off limbs in really cool ways and speaks little, but when he does it's invariably profound. Of course, Purefoy's Marshall is going to provide the main attraction for any medieval wench, and Kate Mara's Lady Isabel provides the eye candy as a horny harlot bent on destroying Marshall's years of devotion to God through his vow of chastity. It is actually quite cringe-worthy to watch Marshall spend half his time trying to fend off the increasingly comic come-ons of the sex-starved Lady Isabel, who slinks around the castle like a half-minded sex pest. Perhaps the most enjoyable parts however involve Giamatti's King John as a permanently irate arsehole. He's petty and cruel like a deranged toddler with a divine birthright making for a good villain. And yet he inevitably suffers from the same flaws as everybody else in this movie; being wholly one-dimensional.
Ironclad is your quintessential prefabricated medieval romp but feels about as epic as a TV mini-series. You can never really take it very seriously, even being slightly reminiscent of Monty Python and the Holy Grail in some parts as King John and the Albany hurl insults at each other over the battlements. "You're no more a king than the boil on my arse" bellows the Baron as you half expect the retort "I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries". Like sieges in general, Ironclad is slow, dull and monotonous, punctuated by the occasional gratuitous violence.
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