Men in Black International: Mindless fun

Men in Black International (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for goofy sci-fi action and mild profanity
By Derrick Bang

It’s nice to know that the Men — and Women — in Black continue to protect Earth from the scum of the universe.

Confronted by sinister alien assassins with apparently unlimited powers, M (Tessa
Thompson) and H (Chris Hemsworth) do their best with a hilariously expanding roster
of firepower.

Nice to know, as well, that key elements of the franchise work just as well today, as they did in Lowell Cunningham’s 1990 comic book, the initial 1997-2012 film series, and the 1997-2001 animated TV series.

(Clearly, Earth has been under siege by a lotta scummy aliens.)

On the other hand, aspects of this new film’s Matt Holloway/Art Marcum script are vague and under-developed, and far too much time is devoted to snarky banter between stars Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson, and not nearly enough time to the often artfully camouflaged ETs that populated the earlier films.

In a word, Holloway and Marcum are lazy. They too frequently rely on our familiarity with this franchise, as if that’s enough on which to float a rather simplistic plot. They get away with this, to a degree, because the premise is so amusing in its own right.

They also wisely reprise the gimmick that fueled the first film: the initiation of a novice MIB operative, which allows us to enjoy the agency’s demented environment through her astonished eyes. 

The rookie in question is Molly (Thompson), who as a small girl witnessed her parents having their memories wiped by the pen-like Neuralyzer, in order to forget the presence of MIB operatives searching for a rogue ET. Molly never forgot this fascinating incident, along with her own close encounter of the third kind. She grew up to become a dedicated scholar and resourceful sleuth, determined to identify and locate the agency (CIA? FBI?) to which those immaculately garbed individuals belong.

She ultimately succeeds — clever gal — much to the displeasure of Agent O (Emma Thompson), whose initial impulse is to use the Neuralyzer on this intruder. But O can’t help being impressed by Molly’s perspicacity and spunk. And besides, the agency could use a few more women. (More than a few, I should think.)

Molly is assigned a code name — M — and sent to London, where she encounters the legendary H (Hemsworth), who once famously saved Earth from a hyper-aggressive species known as The Hive, while armed solely with his wits and a De-Atomizer. Alas, H has become a preening, puffed-up parody of his former self: much too infatuated with his own reputation. He’s also prone to reckless behavior that skirts the edge of MIB’s most crucial rule: Never allow the public to witness any bizarre otherworldly activity or tech.

H has maintained his status at MIB’s London headquarters solely via the protective intervention of station supervisor High T (Liam Neeson), much to the displeasure of C (Rafe Spall), a corporate climber who has long regarded H as a liability, if not an outright fraud. This suspicion hits critical mass when H, reluctantly allowing the eager M to tag along, totally screws up a “simple” assignment to shepherd a member of alien royalty dubbed Vungus, who desires an evening of entertainment at a posh London nightclub.

In fairness, nobody could have anticipated the intervention of two ominous, blue-eyed alien whatzits (twin dancer/choreographers Laurent and Larry Bourgeois), whose lethal powers include the ability to transmute matter via touch. Their initial encounter with H and M leads to one of the film’s best sight gags, when the novice operative learns that her partner’s classic Jaguar is tricked out with enough cleverly concealed weaponry to make James Bond’s Aston Martin rust with envy.

Back at HQ, M sidesteps High T’s furious reprimand by pointing out the obvious: Given that only top MIB agents were aware of Vungus’ presence on Earth, how did those alien assassins know how to find him? The answer is beyond disturbing: MIB’s rigorously vetted London HQ must be infected with a traitorous mole.

Pursuing this theory takes H and M to Marrakech, Paris and an island off Italy, dodging the blue-eyed meanies while encountering a strange little chessboard creature dubbed Pawnie (voiced by Kumail Nanjiani); a hulking alien bodyguard named Luca; and Riza (Rebecca Ferguson), an exotic (ahem) arms dealer with whom H has ill-advised history. Familiar franchise critters also return, most notably the ambulatory MIB “worms” that staff the HQ coffee station.

Despite the vicarious comedy derived from various skirmishes and tête-à-têtes, they’re too frequently overwhelmed by Hemsworth’s incessant boasts and wisecracks. H simply never quits; while Tessa Thompson’s M gives as good as she gets, and although this is part of the bonding ritual that charts their evolving interpersonal dynamic, it gets tiresome. Quickly.

Their own banter aside, Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith’s K and J always exuded authority, intelligence and calm resourcefulness. Hemsworth’s H is toomuch of a goofball, and his antics seriously interfere with the story being told. More to the point, Jones had a crucial role as the stoic foil to the prankish Smith; Hemsworth isn’t similarly checked — or balanced — here.

The story itself isn’t that deep. Blue-eyed meanies are bad; The Hive obviously lurks in the shadows; and the MIB mole must be exposed. Oh, and there’s also an odd little thingamajig that Vungus passes along to M, because he “trusts” her.

Emma Thompson is so good — so skilled at authoritative crispness and perfectly timed double-takes — that it’s a shame her scenes are so brief. Neeson remains oddly bland as High T, as though he couldn’t be bothered to give the guy a personality. (Not entirely his fault, since the script doesn’t give him much to work with.) Spall is a perfect jealous little toady, as C; and Ferguson’s Riza is a hoot. But Nanjiani steals the show, voicing little Pawny; the film greatly benefits from this character, once he appears.

The production design and special effects are terrific; one wishes cinematographer Stuart Dryburgh panned MIB’s London headquarters more slowly, so we could appreciate the myriad ET wackiness taking place within. Director F. Gary Gray and his editors — Zene Baker, Christian Wagner and Matt Willard — move things along at a crisp pace, concealing the plot’s hanging chads via sheer momentum.

It’s also nice to hear Danny Elfman’s familiar title theme and underscore elements, in a lively soundtrack that he shares with fellow composer Chris Bacon.

This fourth Men in Black entry is a lot of fun in the moment, but it’s mostly empty calories: unlikely to be remembered weeks or even days later. In other words, ideal as vacuous summer entertainment.