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SKY CAPTAIN & THE WORLD OF TOMORROW

by Rachel Deahl
Review Film Critic

After toiling away on his Mac for four long years Kerry Conran completed a six-minute short that so impressed its viewers, it earned him the opportunity to make a multi-millionaire dollar studio film, based on an unusual concept, as a complete unknown.

The short, which brought producer John Avnet on board and secured Jude Law as a lead and co-producer, was the Cinderella spark in bringing "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow" to the screen. An ambitious pastiche of Hollywood noirs, pulp comic books of the '50s and classic science fiction, the film was created entirely with computers. Which is to say the only "real" things in the movie are the actors (with the exception of a digitally generated Laurence Olivier) and the few props they intermittently hold.

The sets and backdrops were rendered entirely on computer by placing the cast against a series of blue screens.  And, although the result is immediately visually fascinating - the film looks as if it's a living, breathing comic book depicting a forgotten future - the story is abysmally rendered and the final product is almost unwatchable. In the end, Conran's six-minute short was probably best left at its original length. 

In the press notes for "Sky Captain," Paramount refers to the film as something that represents a "trailblazing moment in cinematic history." Overstating the reality a bit, the studio may not have seized on the next big thing so much as a current oddity.

In the dazzling open scene of the film, The Hindenberg docks at the Empire State Building as a nervous rider, a German scientist, hands off a mysterious package saying he's being followed. This opening image of a blimp docking at an iconic skyscraper, according to Conran, was the inspiration for the entire film. And, in its bizarre, magnificent glory, it's a startling and exciting sight; in short it's easy to see why Conran became a man obsessed. And with its grainy, dark Technicolor-like backgrounds of the New York City skyline, the very first glimpse of "Sky Captain" is undoubtedly a breathtaking one.

Sadly what follows is a meandering, hokey apocalyptic tale more befitting a Saturday morning of Hanna-Barbara cartoons than a high concept, big budget Hollywood movie.

The creaky concept sadly pulls the action away from Manhattan to, intermittently, Shangri La, a British naval station in the sky and, finally, a fantastic island akin to the one invented by Dr. Moreau. Conran, who blatantly draws upon an overwhelming number of movies from "King Kong"  up through "Star Wars" and "Indiana Jones," sadly uses his interesting filmmaking technique to make precisely the wrong kind of movie.

With its elaborate flight chases and endless barrage of attacking robots, "Sky Captain" is intended to wow and excite with the endless possibilities Conran's filmmaking conceit allows. Unfortunately the effect - which heightens the superficiality of the film - distances the viewer from the action as opposed to pulling him into it. As interesting as it might be to play with a visual style that panders to the artifice inherent in film, it's not the right technique for an action movie.

As Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow globe trot in search of the malevolent German genius, Dr. Totenkopf (a scientist who's launched an army of evil machines on the world in an attempt to bring on Armageddon), their fanciful surroundings soon turn silly, heightening the rickety storyline and trite characters.

For better or worse the most interesting thing about "Sky Captain" is the fact that a movie geek from Flint, MI, was able to convince a Hollywood studio to gamble on a totally unbankable idea: an action movie where the effects are made to look more fake, than real.

Grade: D


VANITY FAIR

Today the term Vanity Fair conjures images of decadent celebrities and high-profile fashion shoots, thanks to the glossy magazine that claims this title, but it was originally a term associated with the frivolous distractions offered by a society built on class and money.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary the term means: "a place where all is frivolity and empty show; the world or a section of it as a scene of idle amusement and unsubstantial display."
Certainly this was the notion William Makepeace Thackeray had in mind when he borrowed the phrase from John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" and used it as the title for his tale about a London orphan, circa the 1840s, who has the audacity to climb the English social ladder.

An odd tale, with a dynamic anti-heroine at its core, "Vanity Fair" is equal parts cautionary fable and dynamic fairy tale. As updated by director Mira Nair, who's most well known for her lush "Monsoon Wedding," the novel becomes the breeding ground for a story about an exceptional woman trying to make her mark in less exceptional times.

As Becky Sharp, Reese Witherspoon is a dour 19th century version of Elle Woods. Like Elle, who had the misfortune of crashing Harvard law school via Rodeo Drive, Becky is also from the wrong side of the proverbial tracks. An orphan who speaks fluent French and has an education to match upper class wits, Becky enters London society with her wealthy best friend, Amelia (Romola Garai), as a governess (the equivalent to a modern day Nanny) with the not-so-subtle goal of marrying up.

Stripped of her pink garb and Chihuahua, Witherspoon is forced to do the black sheep bit in more dismal surroundings, garnering the kind of very British laughs usually reserved for Merchant Ivory fare.

At turns comic and bleak, "Vanity Fair" seems more incongruous than most period pieces. And Nair, who's largely focused on tales about Indian culture in her previous film, tries to meld an Eastern flair into the story. The attempt is interesting, if curious. Since the British Empire was expanding its imperial efforts in India during the late 19th century, Nair offers a multitude of glimpses into the way many wealthy Britons were beginning to soak up Indian culture. I

In one scene, Becky, who says India fascinates her, is treated to a cruel game. Her wealthy dinner hosts deliver a spicy Indian pepper (straight from abroad) for her to taste on the spot. As she painfully gulps it down, she comments how she does love the taste. In a later scene, Becky makes a scandalous social appearance in belly dancing routine at the house of a wealthy aristocrat played by Gabriel Byrne.

Nair's not-so-subtle attempts to align Becky with India, while interesting, seem misguided. Ultimately the director can't make a real parallel between what her social climbing heroine and the colonized Indian people. In the end, Nair's intended point seems much more trivial: Becky, a free spirit, may find a more palatable home abroad than in stuffy London.

Sadly, "Vanity Fair" doesn't offer a story that's enough of any one thing. It's unsatisfying as both a love story and a brutal tale about the class warfare. It doesn't offer the brutal punch of similarly themed adaptations of Edith Wharton novels like "The House of Mirth" and "The Age of Innocence." More than anything "Vanity Fair" gives us a glimpse at an unusual heroine, both lovable and despicable.

Unfortunately, once the credits roll, it's hard to know what to take away from her tumultuous tale of triumph and defeat.

Grade: B

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