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Billed as one of the most expensive movies ever made, James Cameron's Avatar definitely comes across as a "spared no expense" sort of feature. Cameron, who could be referred to as "the other Spielberg" with his unique string of blockbusters including Aliens, The Abyss, Terminator, True Lies and Titanic, is rumored to have worked on the story for Avatar for 15 years before he felt the technology was right to bring it to life. Did the time and investment pay off?
A week and a half after release, Avatar has clocked a cool 600 million in ticket sales worldwide, indicating that it may have the legs to break records before it's done. (One can only guess how much poorer it might have been without the obligatory McDonalds spots.)
I caught the film in 2D with the family at a local theater and came away feeling as though I had been thoroughly entertained. This, in spite of the formulaic and well-trodden story that telegraphed itself within five minutes. In fact, as soon as I saw the set-up with the neuro-linked quadriplegic hero, I recognized the elements of a short story I had read many years ago, "Call Me Joe" by Poul Anderson (1957), one of my favorite SciFi writers. I dug it out of a packing box and re-read it.
Not surprisingly, I wasn't the first to see the connection, and even the Wiki article on the short story hints at a growing buzz of people wondering why Anderson wasn't credited in any way. Apparently Cameron got sued by Harlan Ellison for a similar lack of credit in Terminator.
At any rate, call Avatar a redux of Dances With Wolves, Pocahontas, Fern Gully or one of many enviro-friendly films, and you would be on the right track. The lack of originality in the plot from that perspective, with greedy mining interests, supported by the military-industrial complex ranged against the heroic and desperately outgunned scientists and natives, is a sad disappointment. And the name of the element being mined on Pandora, "unobtainium" sounds like something that got stuck in the original script treatment and accidentally made its way into the final version. When Selfridge, the evil Big Corporation rep, first said it, I thought it was a joke. It wasn't.
The film also carries an anemic strand of nature theology--ala Green Goddess--that comes across as all such theo-tainments do--curiously devoid of interpersonal ethical considerations while wailing over the death of a predatory creature. However, on the plus side, the adaptive Na'vi religion does at least carry the message that people's actions do have larger consequences.
On to what was good about the film: To quote Sponge Bob Squarepants: Imagination. While the graphic originality of Frank Miller's work is merely interesting (as in, "that's kinda cool"), the best of science fiction in general can offer an imaginative detail involving sheer creativity that is not only impressive but inspiring. On this level, I think Avatar delivers more than its fair share.
Like the games "Myst" and the role play platforms created by Bethesda, Inc., the creative genius involved in the fashioning of worlds is fantastic. My son derides me for spending so much time merely exploring in these games. But the artistry of alternate worlds is what is best about these productions.
The genius of Avatar on the big screen, such as it is, is far more about Pandora than anything else. Like C.S. Lewis' Sehnsucht inducing glass box from his childhood, the open-endedness is exhilrating. Some of us get a charge out of that sort of thing the way others get a charge out of a good song or a snow-board ride down a steep slope. The lush, Hawaiian-based sets, richly adorned with giant trees, floating mountains, gorgeous waterfalls and other terrific vistas snapped on the big screen. It's hard to know whether they will fare so well on DVD.
For action-adventure, the climactic scenes deliver well and James Horner is always good for a brilliant cinematic score. No one really scrutinizes the acting in this type of genre (can anyone say Star Wars?) but if it's bad, it's noticeable. The acting, even from the CGI characters, was adequate. One could even get into the scenery-chewing villainy of Col. Quaritch, played to the hilt by Stephen Lang. And the woefully under-rated Sigourney Weaver delivers a slice slightly reminiscent of her days as Ripley in Alien. Final tally: Three and a half stars out of five.
Sherlock Holmes
[IMDb Page]
Disclaimer: If you (1) are a fan of Morton Downey, Jr and (2) have not yet seen this film, you may wish to skip this review until later. I mean it. I warned you.
From AP's David Germain: "Take it from a lifelong fan of Arthur Conan Doyle: Robert Downey Jr. is so NOT Sherlock Holmes." However, in Germain's view and that of most other informed reviewers of the film, this was not a problem. The dissenting view you are now reading believes heartily that most other reviewers were still feeling the effects of their egg nog. If that makes you want to stop reading, please direct your browser to a happier place.
The film is handled by Director Guy Ritchie, a gangster action movie sort of director, whose Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998) is a fine, fun minimum opus. His admitted purpose with the latest Sherlock Holmes was to "reboot an otherwise rather dusty, iconic literary hero." While there is little doubt that he succeeded in creating an entertaining film, one has to argue that it's not a film with Sherlock Holmes in it. If you can get past that, and most viewers from the current generation can without much trouble, then you can have a good time watching it.
That being said, one is forced to admit that the literary Holmes was shaken over the film like a salt shaker. There are some nice little homages in the details, too many to list here, but noticeable enough to give a generous nod to the film's research. This version has a graphic novel scent to it, and with a little digging, you will find that Lionel Wigram had already done a treatment with art through DC Comics, a treatment that heavily informed the visual look of the movie.
On the positive side, the movie looks great and some of the CGI London background is really very good. The action is good, though actually manages to lag on in some spots. The snippy one-liners, quips and verbal sparring are enough to keep the audience chuckling in their seats.
The plot. The plot is straight out of the old "Wild Wild West" TV series, with its wacky, pseudo-science fiction premise, improbable-but-fun fight sequences, chases, bromance and romance, government mingled with megalomaniacal villains, and kinda sorta anachronistic gadgetry. All it lacked was the midget villain.
The acting. With apologies to the legion of Morton Downey, Jr. fans, he played very much like someone pretending to be a Brit, "seemingly based on studying Anthony Hopkins and Patrick McGoohan," notes Philip French of UK's Guardian and with a piece-meal costume that conjured visions of Byron and Oscar WIlde at intervals. His dissolute, devil-may-care presentation is actually an anti-Holmes. The literary Holmes would have found him laughable and dismissed him out of hand. Jude Law plays a sharp, dandified Watson, a role that he actually carries off quite well in spite of the "Odd Couple" Felix vs Oscar reparteé that intrudes enough to add comic relief and not much else.
The villain, played by Mark Strong who, ironically looks more like the old Sidney Paget pictures of Holmes than anyone else in the movie, is about as unidimensional a character as one can ask for, to the point of being pretty non-frightening as a sort of wannabe Voldemort with his Roman nose intact.
The principal female characters--Irene Adler and Mary Morstan, the love interests for Holmes and Watson respectively, were flat as week-old Coca Cola. Though she wore her costumes well, Rachel McAdams didn't command the ambiguous subtlety of a wicked-good foil for Holmes as Irene Adler, the sort of role Michelle Pfeiffer would have excelled at in her heyday. Kelly Reilly, as Watson's fiancé, was cursed with some of the film's worst lines and seemed more conscious of her attire than her delivery.
I will give no spoilers, but the film's "reveal," that absolute necessity for the mystery genre, actually has a crow in it (a cliché that became slightly annoying--"Uh oh, there's the crow again!"), while Holmes himself seems to "crow" at a rather inopportune moment, perhaps thereby defying the tiresome parlor convention for this particular stage of the story. There was something of a Scooby Doo effect as well. I half expected Old Man Winters to make an appearance.
My final problem with the movie, its casting and its major premise is that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The principal creators of the film assumed that the original Holmes was no good and needed serious updating. Variety's Tim McCarthy gushed: "The choice was to transform the historically slim, reclusive, intellectual eccentric into an evident manic depressive whose idea of recreation is to slum in what looks like an East End precursor of the fight club. Such Holmes purists as may remain will blanch, but young audiences, particularly males, will likely swill the topped-out serving of sweaty masculinity, flexing muscle, imaginative violence, unusual weaponry, impudent banter and ballsy effrontery."
While I could not disagree more with the basic assumption that the original Holmes is hopelessly passé, I have to agree that the creators of this movie were savvy in their choices and, given the fact that they are already talking sequel, can expect to hit paydirt more than once.
Final tally: 2 and a half stars out of 5.
Some additional notes for Sherlock Holmes fans:
There are few more iconic figures in English prose than Sherlock Holmes. The literary fan base from day one has been and continues to be enormous. In spite of that, Holmes has not fared well in film. The 14 Basil Rathbone--Nigel Bruce movies from the 40s were tolerable, though they were hardly more than cheaply made crime stories with cardboard characterization on a par with the radio-drama serials performed at the same time. Rathbone and Bruce served to create many of the non-literary stereotypes associated with Holmes (such as the deerstalker cap and coat and the big-bowled pipe, as well as a bumbling Watson).
The other film versions have included several sad attempts at The Hound of the Baskervilles (one including Christopher Lee of Saruman fame), spoofs, derivative tales and one single, solitary gem of a movie, Murder By Decree (1979) with Christopher Plummer as Holmes and James Mason redeeming the role of Watson. The latter film takes its cue from Jack the Ripper and delivers on most levels, with the exception of some conventions borrowed more from Rathbone than from Conan Doyle.
The late Jeremy Brett and the lovable Edward Hardwicke delivered masterful television portrayals for the BBC in a near-complete re-telling of all the Conan Doyle's stories. Though Brett's Holmes is clearly a neurotic genius, each of these faithfully crafted episodes is worth watching.
For fun, check out this page comparing this year's release with the one in 1985.
