Four stars. Rated PG-13, for intense sci-fi action and violence, profanity and fleeting nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.6.14
Think Groundhog Day on
steroids.
This is slick and suspenseful
action sci-fi, fueled by an intriguing premise and pulse-pounding momentum
courtesy of director Doug Liman and editor James Herbert. Veteran scripter
Christopher McQuarrie (The Usual Suspects, Jack Reacher) and colleagues Jez
Butterworth and John-Henry Butterworth clearly have shaped their narrative to fit
star Tom Cruise’s outsized presence, but not in the way that one might expect
(at least, not until the final act).
 |
| As Cage (Tom Cruise, center) listens, his confusion mounting, Carter (Noah Taylor) and Vrataski (Emily Blunt) explain that the thousands upon thousands of ferocious "Mimic" warriors should be regarded as mere appendages of a single controlling hive-mind. Well and good, but where does that leave our outnumbered and overwhelmed Earth forces? |
Like many action stars before
him, Cruise has been “handling” his advancing age — 52 and counting — by
ignoring it completely. In fairness, he has done a pretty good job of that, relying
on muscular feats such as scrambling up the side of Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, with
the élan of a stuntman half his age.
Cruise also has a couple of
signature stunts that apparently get written into all of his scripts: You can
always count on at least one scene where an explosion savagely hurls him from
one end of the screen to the other; and another scene that involves surviving a
lengthy fall and a bone-crunching thump as he lands on his back, his pain-contorted
features conveniently facing the camera.
You’ll find both stunts in this
film, as well.
But I come not to bury Cruise,
but to praise him; the march of time notwithstanding, he makes such brawny hokum
work. More to the point, Edge of Tomorrow plays against Cruise’s usual role
as the smartest and most capable person in the room, in this case making the
signature ear-splitting grin and Mr. Slick aura work against the character in
question. That’s both unexpected and clever, not to mention rather savvy on
Cruise’s part; it makes both him and the film that much more interesting.
Edge of Tomorrow started life
as All You Need Is Kill, a 2004 sci-fi novel by Japanese author Hiroshi
Sakurazaka and illustrator Yoshitoshi ABe. The futuristic setting finds Earth
under siege by an invading alien armada of ferocious biomechanical “Mimics”
that seem able to overcome anything we can throw at them (and, rather
unfortunately for this big-screen adaptation, bear a striking resemblance to
the nastier Decepticons in the Transformers movie franchise).
Sakurazaka’s protagonist is a
ground-level grunt in the United Defense Force. Taking an entirely different
approach, Cruise stars as Maj. William Cage, a smooth-talking military
glad-hander who has called upon his previous experience as an advertising exec,
to orchestrate the gung-ho PR campaign that has made so many young men and
women eager to don battle armor and die for the global cause.
Cage has been careful, however,
to ensure that dying is something for other people; he wants nothing to do with
the front-line assault that has been mounted against the otherworldly invaders
that have captured all of Western Europe. Unfortunately, Cage unwisely
irritates a four-star general — Brendan Gleeson, perfectly cast as the dour
Brigham — who has no patience for smug “bystanders.”
Next thing Cage knows, he has
been branded a deserter, sent to the aforementioned front lines — in handcuffs
— and assigned to the dysfunctional J Squad overseen by spit-and-polish Sgt.
Farell (Bill Paxton, deliciously, mockingly stern). Things go from bad to worse
the very next day, when Cage and the rest of J Squad get dumped into the thick
of battle.
A battle that the United Defense
Force clearly expected to win, but — to all appearances — the aggressive Mimics
are ready for the assault. More than ready, actually; they somehow seem to have
positioned themselves to inflict maximum damage to the human warriors.
Cage, not having the slightest
idea how to use or even properly wear his weapon-laden exo-suit, doesn’t last
long. Ironically, he perishes fairly nobly ... but he does perish.
And then wakens with an
adrenaline-laden shock on the previous day, once again getting humiliated by
the oh-so-insincerely patient Farell. Everything unfolds as before, Cage
submitting to his approaching demise with dread, too baffled to do otherwise.
And things end just as badly, and he once again wakens the previous day.
This time, however, he begins to
notice that different actions can lead to subtly different results.
Eventually, Cage’s behavior catches
the attention of Sgt. Rita Vrataski (Emily Blunt), a seasoned warrior dubbed
the “Angel of Verdun” for her Mimic-defeating heroics in previous battles.
Truth be told, Vrataski prefers the cruder moniker — Full Metal Bitch — by
which fellow grunts know her. To Cage’s astonishment, Vrataski apparently
understands what he’s going through.
Cue the obligatory Scientific
Explanation — as the same previous day once again unfolds, but this time quite
differently — when Vrataski takes Cage to a “disgraced” military physicist (Noah
Taylor) who explains that the Mimics have been so successful because they have
the ability to manipulate time: just a little, but more than enough. If they
lose a key battle, they reverse the clock 24 hours, now knowing what to expect,
and thus do better the next time ... and better still, the time after that.
As many times as it takes.
Through sheer caprice, Cage has
“inherited” this ability, and the time-loop now is his to control ... although
— and here’s the grotesque detail — this “instant replay” kicks in only when he
dies. Vrataski knows this, because she previously held the same talent — until
losing it just as mysteriously — and it allowed her, for awhile, to become
unstoppable in battle.
All well and good, but so what?
Unlike Vrataski, Cage is the world’s least likely warrior, a former
white-collar twit who’d faint at the sight of a paper cut. Even granted an
endless loop of 24-hour days, what can he accomplish in so short a time ... particularly
when he knows that he must die, invariably in agony, in order to start anew?
The resulting narrative plays out
with an engaging blend of action, tension and gallows humor, with Sakurazaka’s
core narrative lifting elements from all sorts of sci-fi and fantasy
predecessors: the aforementioned Groundhog Day, Starship Troopers, TV’s Falling Skies, Orson Scott Card’s short story “A Thousand Deaths” and Ken
Grimwood’s novel Replay (and I recommend investigating the latter two).
Cruise is terrific as the
terrified protagonist, the actor’s smarmy polish utterly useless in these
horrific surroundings, as Cage’s feeble attempts at self-preservation serve
only to annoy everybody in his orbit. We chuckle despite ourselves, almost
(almost) forgetting that our entire planet is at stake, as this poor guy tries
to make sense of his ghastly situation, invariably getting skewered, strafed, squashed,
shot and otherwise slaughtered.
Blunt is persuasive as the
tough-as-nails Vrataski: no small feat, since the diminutive actress’ slight
frame — she shares her 5-foot-7 height with Cruise — makes her an unlikely
match for such formidable adversaries. Blunt nonetheless carries it off,
Vrataski’s cool-headed battle expertise and impatient irritation a droll
complement to Cage’s frantic anxiety.
Paxton is a hoot as the patronizing,
heard-it-all-before Farell, and Taylor makes the most of his disheveled
theoretical physicist persona. The J Squad half-dozen don’t get much of a
chance to establish distinct personalities, and therefore are known mostly by
appearance, such as the overweight Kimmel (Tony Way), who takes the phrase
“going commando” a bit too seriously; the defensive Ford (Franz Drameh), likely
a “reformed” street thug; and the token women, Nance (Charlotte Riley), with
broken nose and browned teeth.
The flat-out-scary Mimics come
courtesy of visual effect supervisor Nick Davis, whose team makes them
impressively nasty. And relentless. And seemingly unstoppable. And damn sneaky,
with an ability to pop up unexpectedly, which Liman utilizes throughout the
entire film, leaving us viewers a quivering mass of nervous tension, while
waiting for the next sound effects-laden gotcha to send us clawing for the
ceiling.
That said, Davis may have done
his job too well. As presented, the Mimics really do seem unbeatable and
invulnerable, not to mention so numerous as to render any resistance less than
futile. They’re simply too fast and too powerful: far beyond the speed of human
reaction, particularly within the bulky, clunky confines of an exo-suit.
So, OK; we gloss over that little
detail. Liman, Cruise, Blunt and the scripters build up enough good will to
earn forbearance.
I’m less willing to tolerate a
climax and epilogue that are ... well, unsatisfying. I shall refrain from
specifics, not wanting to be found guilty of spoilers; I shall instead refer
the curious to William Goldman’s marvelous 1983 dissection of Hollywood, Adventures in the Screen Trade, and specifically to pages 30-38 of the
first-edition Warner Books hardcover. The message therein is as relevant today
as it was when written, 30 years ago, and 30 years before that.
To a degree, we can excuse these
issues as endemic to sci-fi blockbusters, while also acknowledging that it’s
difficult to keep a firm hold on time-travel plots; pesky inconsistencies
invariably get caught by Those Who Watch Carefully. Credit Liman, then, with
doing his best to conceal such problems with his patented momentum; this is the
guy who re-ignited the Jason Bourne franchise, not to mention selling the often
silly spy hijinks of Mr. & Mrs. Smith. After the latter, getting us to
accept this futuristic thriller is a walk in the park.
Edge of Tomorrow is audacious,
impressively mounted, well cast and choreographed with energetic snap: a
perfectly reasonable recipe for a solid summer hit.
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