Two stars. Rated PG-13, for violence, dramatic intensity and brief chaste nudity
By Derrick Bang
Back in the day — way back in the day — sci-fi pulp
magazine covers were known for their wonderfully lurid images of scantily clad
maidens being menaced by all manner of strange creatures, usually of a
reptilian or insectoid nature.
 |
| With several nasty spaceships chasing them through the urban canyons of downtown Chicago, Jupiter (Mila Kunis) and Caine (Channing Tatum) just barely manage to dodge the laser blasts, thanks to his anti-gravity footwear, which allows him to "skate" on air. |
Such covers generally accompanied
thoroughly ludicrous space operas that were light on credible characterization
or plausible plotting, and heavy on high-tech hardware and weaponry.
This laughably ridiculous flick
belongs squarely in that sort of company.
In fairness, Jupiter Ascending isn’t as inane as the Wachowski siblings’ nadir,
a spot forever and always to be occupied by 2008’s ill-advised big-screen
adaptation of Speed Racer. (At least,
one hopes they never plumb lower depths.)
At times, though, it seems a
pretty close call. Despite some genuinely thoughtful “big ideas” that percolate
throughout this clumsy original script, Jupiter
Ascending will be remembered — if it’s remembered at all — for its
howlingly dreadful dialogue and relentless, protracted, video game-style action
scenes.
Rarely has an ordinary,
flesh-and-blood human being endured such punishment, violated so many natural
laws of physics, and emerged with nary a scratch. Heck, our heroine’s hair
never even gets mussed. We can but roll our eyes, as she survives megascale
carnage that should have pulped her fragile body many times over. Scores of
times over. Hundreds of times over.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Outer space fantasies can be a
tough genre to mine successfully; it’s difficult to qualify what separates an
engaging, rip-roaring homage — such as the original Star Wars trilogy — from the sort of overcooked mess being served
here. I guess the distinction becomes obvious only when filmmakers egregiously
succumb to the dark side of the Force, as Andy and Lana Wachowski have done so
ostentatiously.
And the silly names don’t help
much.
Jupiter Jones (sigh) is born to a
starry-eyed astrophysicist (James D’Arcy) and the Russian woman (Maria Doyle
Kennedy) with whom he falls in love, while working in St. Petersburg; tragedy
strikes shortly before the little girl comes into the world. Suddenly, whoosh, we’re in Chicago, where Jupiter
has grown into a young woman (Mila Kunis) who lives with her extended Russian
relations and works as a housekeeper/maid alongside her mother and aunt (Frog
Stone).
Jupiter, understandably loathing
her life, wishes for ... something different.
She gets that wish, when some
creepy extraterrestrials attempt to kill her: an effort that fails only due to
the last-second intervention of Caine (Channing Tatum), a genetically
engineered “skyjacker” soldier with incomparable hunting, tracking and fighting
skills. (And boy, that’s an understatement.)
Caine seems to be a good guy, but
Jupiter has trouble keeping track — as do we — because of all the other entities suddenly after her.
These life-threatening attacks originate
far beyond Earth, and result from a power struggle between the three heirs of
the universe-spanning House of Abrasax: Balem (Eddie Redmayne), Kalique (Tuppence
Middleton) and Titus (Douglas Booth). Somehow, Jupiter’s very existence
threatens the current order, and at least one of the Abrasax heirs wants her
dead.
Because, it turns out, Jupiter
has “royal DNA” or some such nonsense.
Some pretty high-falutin’
cosmological concepts are tossed into the mix, most significantly the fact that
the House of Abrasax is responsible for having “seeded” hundreds (thousands?)
of worlds, including Earth, throughout the galaxy ... which conveniently
explains their humanesque appearance.
The motive wasn’t altruistic. Once
certain population densities are reached — once a world threatens to exhaust
its resources, and therefore can be said to have peaked — the entire planet is
“harvested,” it’s inhabitants stripped down to genetic materials that are
refined into a white syrup that prolongs life.
Just as our own 16th century
Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed supposedly bathed in the blood of
virgins to retain her youth, the Abrasax heirs have preserved themselves for millennia
by bathing in liquefied human DNA. (Ick.)
Additionally, Abrasax tech hasn’t
been confined to developing human, ah, livestock. They also genetically crossed
their human DNA with that of other creatures, resulting in hybrids developed
for specific characteristics. Caine’s powers derive from his wolf DNA, the
visible results being his lupine ears; Balem’s royal guard is led by Greeghan,
a ferocious “saurisapian” that resembles a winged dinosaur/crocodile.
OK, all this is intriguing, and I
can see a thoroughly fascinating long-form drama spun from this premise: say, a
10-hour miniseries with Jupiter seduced and/or deceived by each Abrasax sibling
in turn, with events building to a mesmerizing showdown. Something on the scale
of Frank Herbert’s Dune, with its
various warring factions, scores of key characters and internecine paranoia.
Nice thought, but the Wachowskis
haven’t aimed that high. They do introduce lots of characters, but most remain
under-developed, vague and ill-defined; it’s almost impossible to keep track,
at any given moment, of who’s good, bad or somewhere in between ... let alone
who’s working for Balem, as opposed to Kalique or Titus.
Efforts at thoughtful drama are
sabotaged further by the aforementioned childish names, notably Caine’s
estranged warrior colleague, played by Sean Bean, and identified as Stinger ...
because his human genes were crossed with those of a highly evolved bee
species. (Seriously?)
Bean is a solid, highly talented
actor ... under better circumstances. His performance here is a mess, probably
because he hasn’t the faintest idea what to do, or how to behave, from one
scene to the next.
When it comes to bad acting,
though, nobody could top Redmayne, whose Balem is so over-the-top awful that
you can’t help laughing at the character’s hilariously aristocratic lunacy. You
half expect him to huff and puff like the Big, Bad Wolf. And yes, this is the
same Eddie Redmayne currently Oscar-nominated for his superlative work in The Theory of Everything ... and he no
doubt wishes that Jupiter Ascending
hadn’t been released at this particular moment.
We’re frequently reminded, throughout
this film, that — whatever their talents for orchestrating high-tech mayhem —
the Wachowskis haven’t a clue how to direct actors to good performances, or
even plausible ones.
By far the worst misstep comes
later, though, once we meet Diomika Tsing (Nikki Amuka-Bird), the captain of an
intergalactic police force escort ship who — for reasons unknown — puts herself
and her crew in peril, to help Caine and Jupiter. Tsing’s pilot appears to be a
human/elephant cross: a preposterous character who immediately reminded me of
Hooter, the goofy little elephant in the Disneyland/Michael Jackson Captain Eo attraction. (Needless to say,
not a desirable comparison...)
I take it back: The worst misstep
comes when Kunis insists on informality during an introduction, by saying “Call
me Jupe.” Rarely has a line of dialogue elicited such a wince.
Other sidebar characters or
sequences feel as though they wandered in from some other film. Jupiter’s
Russian relations, particularly greedy Cousin Vladie (Kick Gurry), behave like
they’re auditioning for a bad TV sitcom. Later, when Caine and Jupiter struggle
to establish her royal credentials within the maze of overcrowded offices in
Titus’ Commonwealth Ministry, these various encounters become a bureaucratic farce
that concludes with the “Seal and Signet Minister,” a cranky old civil servant
played by filmmaker Terry Gilliam, no doubt because this montage echoes his
film Brazil.
Amusing, certainly, but pointless
... and having nothing to do with the rest of the film. Except to set up
another tone-deaf punch line by Kunis.
I must hasten to add that Kunis
cannot be blamed for any of this; indeed, she’s the best part of this film.
Jupiter is a brave and resourceful heroine — if perhaps a bit slow on the
uptake, when it comes to dealing with the Abrasax sibs — and Kunis gamely
tackles the role with grit and determination. It’s not her fault that the
character is forced to say and do so many stupid things.
As for Tatum ... well ... he’s
been better. His heart doesn’t seem to be in this role, and he often seems
embarrassed by his character’s wolf ears.
On the positive side, the film looks sensational. Production designer
Hugh Bateup has a field day with the various palatial surroundings in which we
find the Abrasax clan; visual effects supervisor Dan Glass and FX designer John
Gaeta also do marvelous things, whether wreaking havoc in downtown Chicago, or
constructing Balem’s immense “processing facility” deep within Jupiter’s famed
red spot.
And, yes, the various melees,
chases and action sequences are dazzling and breathtaking ... but they all last
much too long. Frankly, it feels like
the Wachowskis are trying to take our minds off their abysmal scripting.
This film ultimately ends just as
clumsily as it begins, with all sorts of narrative threads left up in the air —
some literally — and a “happy” conclusion apparently cemented with the gift of
a telescope. (Honestly, I’m not making this up.)
As I’ve observed many times, lazy
filmmakers apparently believe that fantasies give them license to make stuff up
as they go along. Not true; it’s actually more
important to adhere to logic and rigorous plotting, because viewers skeptically
begin on the shifting sands of an improbable premise. Get too random, and we
simply lose interest.
Sadly, based on Jupiter Ascending, Andy and Lana
Wachowski are very, very lazy.
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