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.
