Two stars. Rating: PG, for fantasy action violence
By Derrick Bang
Conventional wisdom suggests the
value of a winning formula.
Movie studies, infamous for
getting things bass-ackwards, sometimes cling to a losing formula.
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| Having successfully invaded Polyphemus' lair and snatched the fabled Golden Fleece, our young heroes — from left, Tyson (Douglas Smith), Clarisse (Levin Rambin), Grover (Brandon T. Jackson), Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario) and Percy (Logan Lerman) — discover that keeping their prize will be even more difficult. |
2010’s Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief offered
fabulous monsters, slick special effects and an A-list cast of cameo players
... and nothing else. The film was dumb, soulless and atrociously acted; the
entire cast delivered every line with smirking condescension, as if mocking the
material as a waste of time. Needless to say, if the actors don’t seem to
believe in what they’re doing, we certainly won’t.
Critics dismissed the film with
contempt, and it was justifiably loathed by fans of Rick Riordan’s teen-lit
fantasy series; Craig Titley’s snarky script completely failed to respect the
source novel. The biggest surprise? Chris Columbus occupied the director’s
chair, and you’d certainly think that the guy who helmed the first two Harry
Potter movies would understand how to bring fantasy to the big screen.
You’d think.
Despite earning only $89 million
in the States — on a budget of $95, which qualifies as a failure — the results
were far better worldwide, with a final tally of $226 million. Those numbers
spell S-E-Q-U-E-L, despite everybody’s recognition that they were dealing with
a dog.
And so now we’re graced with Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters ... which
offers fabulous monsters and slick special effects, and is dumb, soulless and
atrociously acted. Despite the presence of a new director (Thor Freudenthal)
and scripter (Marc Guggenheim), little has changed. The young stars may be
three years more mature, but their performances haven’t improved much. And it’s
rather telling that the first film’s big names — Sean Bean, Pierce Brosnan, Uma
Thurman, Steve Coogan, Rosario Dawson and Catherine Keener — opted out this
time.
Indeed, we never catch the barest
glimpse of the Olympian gods who played such an important role in the first
film. Oh, they’re mentioned here, now and then, but that’s it. Instead of Zeus,
Hades, Poseidon and Medusa, we get Hermes and Dionysus. Our favorite centaur,
Chiron, now is played by Anthony Head (a fan favorite from the days of Buffy the Vampire Slayer), rather than
Brosnan. Although I’ve no desire to slight the talents of the esteemed Mr.
Head, whose work I admire, one gets the distinct impression that these
filmmakers settled for the B Team.
Freudenthal deserves credit for attempting
a more serious tone; he mostly eliminated the smug atmosphere that poisoned the
first film. But Guggenheim’s script takes even more liberties with the second
entry in Riordan’s book series, leaving us with an “adaptation” in name only.
I’m sure Riordan's fans will be equally unhappy.
As we learned in the first
adventure, Percy (Logan Lerman) is a demigod, the mixed-race result of a
dalliance between Poseidon, god of the sea, and a human mother. The latter role
was played by Keener in the first film, and she’s neither seen nor mentioned
here ... which is rather bizarre, considering how hard Percy worked to save
her, three years ago.
Anyway, Percy has settled into a
comfortable routine at the rather demeaningly named Camp Half-Blood, alongside
best friends Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario), daughter of Athena; and Grover
(Brandon T. Jackson), his satyr (half man, half goat) protector. Like Lerman,
Daddario and Jackson reprise their roles, which is a comfortable bit of
continuity.
For reasons the film series never
really makes clear, various mythological creatures wish to kill these demigod
younglings, and they’re only safe behind the protective barrier that surrounds
Camp Half-Blood. But as this story opens, the magic tree that generates the
barrier has been poisoned, leaving the camp increasingly exposed. The tree must
be saved, and only the fabled Golden Fleece can handle that task.
Worse yet, this calamity has been
orchestrated by Luke (Jake Abel), the petulant son of Hermes, who caused all
the trouble in the previous adventure. As we learned, Luke has serious “daddy
abandonment” issues, which turned him evil; his temper tantrums don’t seem to
have improved.
Finding the Golden Fleece falls
to Clarisse (Levin Rambin), daughter of Ares (god of war), an impressively
resourceful and highly competitive fighter who has become the bane of Percy’s
existence. Apparently saving the world three years ago is yesterday’s news, and
of late Percy has come to doubt his skills and worthiness. On top of which,
Poseidon seems to have lost interest in his demigod son.
Percy’s discomfort increases when
the camp’s newest arrival, Tyson (Douglas Smith), turns out to be his
half-brother. As it happens, Tyson also is a cyclops, a race regarded with
derision at best, and hostility at worst. Annabeth, in particular, has cause to
distrust Tyson on sight ... and, truth be told, the “ocularly challenged” lad
is something of a bumbling screw-up.
Despite being passed over in
favor of Clarisse, Percy opts to seek the Golden Fleece anyway, thanks to his
concern about an ill-fated prophecy. Annabeth and Grover naturally join him, as
does Tyson (much to Annabeth’s disgust). And then it’s heigh-ho, off to the
dread “Sea of Monsters” — which we mortals know as the Bermuda Triangle — and
the lair of Polyphemus, the genuinely
nasty cyclops who possesses the fleece.
Unlike their first adventure,
which involved some puzzle-solving and continental hopping, this time Percy and
his friends just sorta bumble and stumble into a series of calamities.
Guggenheim’s narrative doesn’t actually flow; it lurches from one contrived
scene to the next, giving the entire film a sense of things being improvised on
the spot.
Far worse something that always
aggravates me, when it comes to badly conceived fantasy: the fact that our
heroes — and their adversaries — are only as weak, or as strong, as they need to be, at any given moment. When
pressed, for example, Percy can summon and ride a gigantic ocean wave, which
seems a nifty way to travel in general, not to mention an easy way to dispatch
any pursuers. Strange, then, that Percy doesn’t rely on this trick more
frequently.
It’s also rather peculiar that
all these demigods and demigoddesses — offspring of the Olympian gods, and therefore
blessed with intriguing talents and powers — inevitably resort to primitive
swordplay and fisticuffs, whenever a battle brews.
One also must question Luke’s
intelligence: For a bad guy determined to obtain the Golden Fleece for his own
ends, you’d think he would recognize the folly of setting up shop on a yacht in
the middle of the ocean, where he’s most vulnerable to Poseidon’s powers!
Obviously, Luke skipped his classes in Secret Lair 101.
And speaking of powers, Percy also
is gifted with magic shipping tape, which causes anything outlined to vanish: a
handy gadget indeed, yet one that he uses only once ... after which, it’s left
behind like every other detail in this maladroit script.
Guggenheim and Freudenthal also
are guilty of bald theft, in the matter of a magical taxi driven by the three
blind “Gray Sisters,” who share but one eye between them. Percy and his friends
manage to snag a timely ride in a sequence that plays very much like a certain
young wizard’s ride aboard the Knight Bus, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
While I’m at it, another
question: If the Gray Sisters’ taxi descends from the sky as swirling lights
when summoned, why doesn’t it travel
that way? Why race in and out of conventional traffic, on roadways ... except
to provide viewers with another meaningless special-effects sequence?
Although Lerman has dropped the haughty
disdain that clouded his previous outing as Percy Jackson, he still treats this
role like a larkish joke (or, perhaps, like a paycheck). He’s clearly capable
of much better, having delivered such a sensitive performance in last year’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Apparently, he views this series as slumming.
Jackson once again makes Grover
little more than cloven-hoofed comic relief, and Abel’s “acting” is limited to
a villainous sneer; we’ve absolutely no sense of Luke as a character. Smith
delivers some emotional depth as the hapless, one-eyed Tyson, but his saga —
his desire to bond with Percy — isn’t well integrated with the rest of the
narrative.
Daddario suffers the worst fate;
Annabeth was a smart, resourceful fighter in the previous film, but here she’s
demoted to a useless girl-in-peril ... a role she doesn’t play with any
enthusiasm. All of Annabeth’s previous warrior skills have been transferred to
Clarisse, played by Rambin as a patronizing, sword-wielding Gossip Girl. One
expects her to start a waspish discussion about the latest in designer armor.
An unexpected ray of sunshine
comes from Nathan Fillion, popping up in a small role as Hermes, the
fleet-footed emissary and messenger of the gods. Fillion gives the right
light-hearted touch to this role; it’s a shame he’s on camera for only five
minutes.
Stanley Tucci also has a few
droll moments as “Mr. D” (Dionysus), one of Camp Half-Blood’s mentors, who
bemoans his rather cruel punishment at Zeus’ hands. But like everything else in
this film, Tucci’s role is under-written, and he’s never allowed to make much
of it.
In terms of visual spectacle, effects
supervisor Cameron Waldbauer deserves top marks for his realization of
Charybdis, one of the nastiest monsters in Greek mythology. (Scylla, in
contrast, gets no more than lip service.) The “fake” 3D effects, however, are a
complete waste of time. And as often is the case with 3D layered onto a film
after the fact, the most noticeable result is a darkened color palette; it
often seems like cinematographer Shelly Johnson filmed through black gauze.
As with its predecessor, Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters is a
family-friendly romp with plenty of ooky-spooky creatures, and nary a whiff of
objectionable content; parents can feel safe watching it with their children.
But “safe” doesn’t mean engaging; this film is sloppy, derivative and
half-baked fantasy at its most infantile ... so I suspect young viewers will snicker
even more than any adults unlucky enough to tag along.
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