The Creator: Half-baked

The Creator (2023) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for profanity, bloody images and relentless action violence

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

The more I think about this film, the more my opinion dwindles.

 

Its vision cannot be faulted. This is a stunning depiction of future Earth every bit as jaw-dropping as was — for its time — the 2019 Los Angeles envisioned by 1982’s Blade Runner. The work by production designer James Clyne and visual effects supervisors Julian Levi and Jay Cooper is wholly immersive; this feels like an authentic — and credible — glimpse of technology and cityscapes, further into our 21st century.

 

The more time Joshua (John David Washington) spends with the simulant he has
christened Alphie (Madeleine Yuna Voyles), the less he's able to view her as
anything but a human child ... her unusual abilities notwithstanding.

The performances are equally fine, with persuasive work coming from stars John David Washington, Allison Janney, Ken Watanabe, Gemma Chan and — in a highly unusual role — young Madeleine Yuna Voyles.

No, the problem lies entirely with sluggish pacing and the clumsy storyline by director Gareth Edwards and co-scripter Chris Weitz. It simply doesn’t gel. Following a fascinating prologue and solid first act, continuity cracks become increasingly obvious, along with progressively unbelievable behavior and emotional responses by key characters.

 

The colossal environmental devastation and cold-blooded loss of human life — on a massive scale — also is quite unpalatable. 

 

Finally, the physical punishment and hair’s-breadth escapes endured by our sorta-kinda-hero become ludicrous. This isn’t a superhero movie, and he’s a plain-vanilla human being.

 

A newsreel-style prologue provides background on how rudimentary, first-gen robots — akin to what we have today — evolve, during subsequent decades, to become life-size AI “servants” capable of independent thought and action. 

 

Everybody throughout the world embraces this technological revolution … until AI triggers a nuclear explosion that destroys Los Angeles. In the wake of this catastrophe, the U.S. government ban all AI, and embark on a campaign of mass destruction throughout the world.

 

This puts the United States at odds with Eastern nations, which continue to develop the technology to the point where these simulants become human-like, and are embraced as equals. Some AIs continue to look like machines; others have bodies and faces, the latter only the front half of a “head” backed by an intricate cylindrical power and intelligence gizmo.

 

The result: all-out war between the United States and Asia.

 

(The film’s press notes make a point of involving “Western nations” in the AI purge, but only the United States is on display here: no indication of Europe, Canada or Australia, not to mention Eastern Europe and Russia. That feels sloppy.)

 

Godzilla, King of the Monsters: Gawd-awful

Godzilla, King of the Monsters (2019) • View trailer 
One star. Rated PG-13, for relentless monster carnage and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang

Sigh.

I’ve seen a lot of stupid over the years, but this one takes every cake in the bakery.

Not yet having realized that she's standing alongside a deranged sociopath, young
Madison (Millie Bobby Brown, right) watches while her mother, Emma (Vera Farmiga),
activates a whatzit in order to unleash a whozit.

Rarely has a big-studio blockbuster been directed this clumsily, written this poorly, and acted this atrociously. Doctoral theses could be written, about everything wrong with this misbegotten mess.

It’s a $200 million embarrassment.

When a film is this bad, every minute wasted with it — and we’re looking at 131 minutes here — is an exercise in put-me-out-of-my-misery tedium. Root canal surgery would be preferable.

This second entry in the modern Godzilla series once again demonstrates the folly of pleasing too many international masters, given that this is a co-production by Warner Bros. and China’s Legendary Entertainment. In theory, that should be a good thing, since it assures international casting; in practice, it has been the death of quality cinema.

Recent exhibits of shame include Skyscraper, Pacific Rim: Uprising, Man of Steel and, yes, the previous Godzilla. Among many others.

Each one is characterized by noisy, cataclysmic, landscape-leveling mayhem that goes on and on and on and on. Along with atrociously dumb dialogue, and performances so wooden they could warp.

And — worse yet in this case, with respect to emotional resonance — people who mostly stand around, slack-jawed, impotently staring at screens, or out windows. It’s difficult, nay impossible, to get involved with characters in a thriller of this sort, unless they’re pro-active and do something to make a difference.

One of this film’s major stars checks out so quickly, we scarcely have time to register the individual’s presence.

Three-quarters of the way into this debacle, somebody finally does something heroic. And then there’s an act of noble self-sacrifice, and for a moment — just a fleeting moment, but still — we actually care. A teeny-weeny bit.

Prior to that…

Godzilla: Radioactive waste

Godzilla (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG-13, for intense sequences of destruction, mayhem, creature violence and civilian casualties
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.16.14

The good stuff, up front:

Fairness demands that I acknowledge visual effects supervisor Jim Rygiel and production designer Owen Paterson, who have done a superb job with this film’s monster mayhem. As also was the case with last year’s Pacific Rim, the massive sense of scale is handled quite persuasively, and Northern California audiences will get a kick out of seeing familiar San Francisco landmarks flattened like pancakes.

When Godzilla trails a winged, radiation-chomping MUTO (Massive Unidentified
Terrestrial Organism) to San Francisco, you just know the Golden Gate Bridge
will be toast!

Additionally, our dino-sized star is granted a quite distinctive personality.

However...

If mankind as a whole behaved as inanely as the cretins in this narrative, the monsters would deserve to win.

Writers Max Borenstein and Dave Callaham have concocted a truly absurd premise, and their dialogue sparks unintentional laughter at every turn. This is purple, afternoon-soap melodrama at its absolute worst, and matters aren’t helped by director Gareth Edwards’ insistence that his actors deliver all their lines with the sort of clipped, wooden stoicism we associate with stuff that routinely got skewered on Mystery Science Theater 3000.

OK, let’s assume — for the sake of argument — that Edwards & Co. deliberately tried to imitate the hilariously grave tone of the post-atomic sci-fi flicks back in the 1950s. That would suggest we treat this update of Godzilla as high camp: the sort of romp that becomes entertaining precisely because it IS so solemnly sincere.

Except that this clearly wasn’t Edwards’ intention, given how he has insisted, in pre-publicity interviews, that Hollywood hasn’t delivered enough “serious takes on giant-monster movies.” Hate to tell you, Gareth, but you’ve not improved that situation.

So, maybe he’s so clumsy that he didn’t realize he was trying for camp. That still doesn’t work, because the aforementioned mayhem includes multitudes of civilian fatalities, with some folks perishing quite horribly. Edwards goes for the same death-by-apocalyptic spectacle that made previous doomsday popcorn flicks such as 2012 and last summer’s Man of Steel so unsettling.

Some films of this nature have begun to display a level of gleeful, kid-like callousness that evokes images of little boys pulling the wings off flies. Just as hard-core torture porn flicks such as Saw have turned complex evisceration into a spectator sport, these mainstream action flicks have upped the ante so much that (for example) the stomping of innocent bystanders becomes a pinball-style laugh line.

Which is ironic, because — for the most part — we care more about these innocent bystanders, than the tight-lipped blank slates who pose as this story’s protagonists. Not one of these so-called stars plays anything approximating a real character; they’re all one-dimensional archetypes ... and quite stupid ones, at that.