|
|
JURASSIC PARK 3: A Mindless Thrill Machine
By Greg Walton
Review Film Critic
Click the pic for the official site!!!
No Spielberg. No Crichton. No problem. Just add more dinosaurs.
Even Spielberg can't be egotistical enough to think his name had much to
do with "Jurassic Park's" standing as the 3rd highest grossing film of all
time, or propelled the sequel, "Lost World," to the biggest opening weekend
ever (a record which still stands...at least for the next few hours).
People are there to ogle the big monsters like kids at a petting zoo. Only
with the added bonus of maybe seeing a few limbs torn off in the process.
"Jurassic Park 3" ignores even the scrap of a story left behind Crichton's
novels, instead director Joe Johnston ("Honey, I Shrunk the Kids") knocks
off his stranded guest stars like an old-school slasher film, with actors
apparently being dispatched in order of their salaries.
Sam Neil, who classes up most films like a white Morgan Freeman, returns as
the intrepid paleontologist (and reluctant dino-fighter) Dr. Alan Grant.
William H. Macy and Tea Leoni play a bickering divorced couple who kidnap
Grant in a desperate rescue effort to save their son, who's marooned on
Isla Sorna.
Why the island wasn't nuked from orbit after the sequel is but one of the
many questions you're better off not asking. This is "Jurassic Park: The
Ride," with an emphasis on new dinosaurs (like flying Pterodactyls,
"talking" Raptors, and a king-size nemesis called Spinosaurus who
makesT-Rex look about as dangerous as Teddy Ruxpin) and a wacky new sense
of humor. There's as much wisecracking as there is neck-snapping and
bone-crunching.
It's almost a relief to see "Jurassic Park" become the mindless thrill
machine Spielberg struggled to prevent. And after the lights come up, the
irony sets in that you've just witnessed the de-evolution of a film
franchise that was never much of a museum piece to begin with.
Grade: C+
Click the pic for the official site!!
GHOSTS IN THE MACHINE
It's an argument so shallow and self-involved only Hollywood could have
started it. The picket lines are forming as we speak; dozens of Tinseltown
stars and starlets waving signs of protest like, "DNA all the way!" and
"Say goodbye to CGI!" (slogans by Bruce Vilanch) and drinking cappuccino
donated by sympathetic agents and entertainment lawyers. This is war.
The battle lines have been drawn - or rendered, if you will - between the
computer animation wizards behind movies like "Final Fantasy," the first
photo-realistic film with a completely computer-generated cast, and the
increasingly insecure actors who count on their silicone-injected,
diet-pill toned bodies to earn a living.
Can you imagine the mounting fear within Ben Affleck and Keanu Reeves -
whose acting skills combined add up to a Pac-Man - faced with digital
actors that not only replicate their rugged good looks, but could put a
serious damper on their chances for a pity Oscar in their golden years?
Of course, the sky isn't falling quite yet, but that hasn't stopped some
celebrities from looking over their shoulder. "Final Fantasy" is an
animation revelation, the next noteworthy step in the computer's
assimilation of traditional filmmaking.
And most of the hubbub (it's too pretentious to call it controversy)
revolves around the issue of this hostile take-over - is cinema just
incorporating new technology or being consumed by it? Where does reality
end and virtual reality begin?
Most of this theoretical techno-babble comes from stodgy old film
professors and people who take "The Matrix" way too seriously. The simple
answer is, film is art. And artists use the tools they think best express
the story, message, or emotion of the moment.
Film as an art form is still in its infancy - as evidenced by any Rob
Schneider movie - compared to the centuries of evolution and revolution
classical forms like sculpture, painting, and literature have under their belt.
The silver screen often looks and sounds like an undisciplined brat anxious
to hit puberty.
"Final Fantasy" is no different. At moments its visual splendor brings
goosebumps galore, so finely detailed is director Hironobu Sakaguchi's
futuristic wonder world. The most impressive innovation comes from all
animated "stars" like Aki, Gray, and Dr. Sid (voiced by Ming-Na, Alec
Baldwin, and Donald Sutherland in a fine example of foreign dubbing done
correctly for a change), computer creations that inspire audience
double-takes. Hair floats in the breeze, eyes sparkle, lips quiver, all
wrapped in skin as clean and clear as the girl in the Noxzema ad.
But for all their virtual beauty, none of these characters are ever
convincingly human. Part of it is the story, which although much more
spiritual and eco-conscious than American fare, never pulls out of its somber flatness.
All the enjoyable images of alien zapping nihilism clash with such lofty
themes. More immediate is the technological ceiling that allows Man to
render nose hairs flapping in the breeze with breathtaking realism, but
still can't squeeze out enough RAM to generate a genuine emotion.
Try making these characters cry or laugh or get pissed off and you run into
a brick wall of facial expressions and "programmed" responses. They just
don't feel right. Blame it on our innate ability to read each other's
minds with the arch of an eyebrow or pout of a lower lip; to tell when a
spouse is happy, sad, or cranky just by the way he or she holds the TV
remote. We know each other too well, and we can smell a fake from a mile away.
Make no mistake, "Final Fantasy" is a milestone. But the mile markers
don't seem quite so spread out anymore. And it's difficult to hail an
achievement based on a technology that could top itself next week. Best to
congratulate them for the creativity and make fun of Ben and Keanu in the
unemployment line.
Keep your chins up, guys. I hear Blockbuster's hiring.
Grade: B-
|
|
