Two stars. Rated PG-13, for violence, dramatic intensity and shadowed nudity
By Derrick Bang
With apologies for the
unavoidable pun — given that Miles Teller is one of this film’s stars — you could
get whiplash trying to keep up with the shifting character loyalties here.
This person is a good guy. Oh,
dear; he’s really a bad guy. No, he’s only pretending
to be a bad guy; he’s actually a good guy. Damn; he really is a bad guy.
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| Having escaped from what has become a mess back in Chicago, our heroes — from left, Christina (Zoë Kravitz), Tris (Shailene Woodley), Four (Theo James), Caleb (Ansel Elgort), Tori (Maggie Q) and Peter (Miles Teller) — confront the massive wall that separates their city from the outer wasteland known as the Fringe. |
That person is dedicated to the
cause of peace and freedom. Hmmm, she seems to have hidden megalomaniacal
tendencies. Uh, hang on; is that a glimmer of conscience? No, false alarm;
she’s genuinely deranged. But ... then ... how can she lead a kumbaya hug in
the final scene?
Our heroine is smart, brave and
resourceful. Actually, she’s rather naïve and foolish. Well, hey, cut her some
slack; she really is a dedicated and
stalwart heroine. No, she’s genuinely stupid and unbelievably gullible, and
doesn’t deserve to be leading her companions into constant peril, let alone
suckering us viewers into tolerating yet another two hours of nonsense driven
almost entirely by her personality flaws.
If all this sounds strained,
random and utterly bewildering ... there’s a reason for that.
Like at least one other current
big-screen franchise derived from young adult fantasy lit — and, God knows,
we’ve been drowning in them lately — the Divergent
series feels like everything is made up from one moment to the next. We can’t
really blame novelist Veronica Roth, on whose books these films are based; as
the film series has progressed, the scripts have, ah, diverged significantly
from their respective sources.
Mostly, though, it remains a case
of diminishing returns. Whether we’re discussing the Twilight series, or Divergent,
or (definitely the worst) Maze Runner,
or even The Hunger Games, each new
film in its respective franchise has been notably weaker. In part, it’s because
the various scripters and directors have deviated too much, abandoning elements
that made these young heroines and heroes interesting in the first place, in
favor of mindless running, fighting, jumping, fighting, arguing and more
fighting.
But the bigger problem does lie with the original book authors,
who failed to construct these alternate realms with adequate creativity, plot
logic and continuity. Time and again, I’m reminded how vastly superior J.K.
Rowling is, not only as a writer and world-builder, but as a novelist capable
of fabricating fully dimensioned characters not only with her core protagonists,
but with supporting players and casual bystanders.
From books one through seven —
and films one through eight — Harry Potter’s adventures flow smoothly and
logically, with impressive continuity elements that signify very, very careful planning. People don’t
think or act stupidly in Rowling’s fantastical realm.
I sure wish the same could be
said here.
