Three stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action violence, dramatic intensity and chaste nudity
By Derrick Bang
The tantalizing nature of
identity — of soul — has again
become a hot sci-fi topic, particularly in the wake of HBO’s recent expansion
of Michael Crichton’s Westworld concept.
Since art so often mirrors life,
it’s tempting to relate the current revival to the rampant insecurity, paranoia
and uncertainty sweeping our nation: the rising doubt over what it truly means
to be “American.”
Be that as it may, this new Western
adaptation of the Japanese Ghost in the
Shell franchise is quite timely, although I can’t help wondering what took
so long. Masamune Shirow’s original manga graphic novel debuted in 1989,
followed quickly by several sequels, a wildly popular 1995 animé adaptation
(and several big-screen follow-ups), and a 2002 animé TV show (again with
several continuation series).
All of them explored and expanded
upon Shirow’s thoughtful observations about social evolution and its
philosophical consequences, and particularly the manner in which rapidly
advancing technology affects our concepts of consciousness and humanity.
Director Rupert Sanders’ new
live-action film covers the same high-falutin’ philosophical territory, but
this ho-hum Jamie Moss/William Wheeler script mostly resurrects a question that
nagged at me, back when Ghost first
materialized: I’ve always wondered to what degree Shirow might have been
influenced by Robert Ludlum.
Because there’s no question that
the core storyline is a cyberpunk spin on Ludlum’s The Bourne Identity, and the many books and films subsequently
spawned by that 1980 novel.
Which explains why — despite this
new film’s dazzling depiction of our mid-21st century future — the
action-packed plot seems so familiar.
To paraphrase a famous song from an equally famous musical, Looks: 10,
originality: 3.
The story takes place in a
Pan-Asian metropolis that feels like a cross between the cityscapes of Blade Runner and Minority Report: opulent high rises and corporate towers jostling for
space alongside blocky apartment complexes whose futuristic lines cannot
conceal the dilapidation that speaks of their overcrowded, working-class
residents.
The most striking visuals are the
massive holographic advertisements that fill every millimeter of available space:
a shrewdly prophetic — and frankly terrifying — depiction of what we could
expect, if the corporate thugs behind our already distracting LED billboards
continue to bully (or bribe) city council members into compliance.