They'll Be Back
The Terminator series rocks on.
BY GREGORY
It’s clearly an uphill climb, trying to build a movie out of iconography rather than soul, and such is the challenge faced
by Terminator Salvation -- technically the fourth Terminator movie…although, if you can dig it, also sort of a prequel,
albeit one taking place in the future. Happily, however, unlike the recent franchise jump-start of Star Trek XI (which I
consider energetic but idiotic), this particular science-fiction/time-travel/post-apocalyptic-action romp knows its context
and terrain, and sticks firmly to them, never succumbing to the maddening plot-convolutions and wink-wink wankery
which render the new Trek more a crude hijacking than any sort of rebirth. By contrast, Terminator 4 plays mostly
gritty, mean and bombastic, and -- due to the relative simplicity of its franchise (Machines Kill People; People Fight Back;
Q.E.D.) -- it comes up mostly aces, delivering one of the coolest post-apocalyptic thrill-rides since the respective career
peaks of Charlton Heston and Mel Gibson.
As for the iconography, this is why we’re here: The peculiarly messianic John Connor (Christian Bale) basically spends
the movie scowling, growling and fighting Skynet -- which, for those new to this choppy, quarter-century-old series, is
the cool name for the global, Machine-run network which hastily turned against humanity and wiped out most of us. The
survivors -- the Resistance, natch -- spend their post-end-days fleeing killer Machines (most iconically, the “T-800”
endoskeleton made famous beneath Governor Schwarzenegger’s formerly youthful physique and oh-so-‘80s Gargoyles),
and/or occasionally waging zany, Ewok-like skirmishes against them. Make no mistake: The Machines (including also
flying Hunter-Killers, creepy “water-willies” and a ginormous-obnoxious robot which ostentatiously releases high-speed
killer droid-cycles from its shins) are both very cool-looking and very lethal -- and, unlike in James Cameron’s moody,
model-based, nocturnal flash-forwards of yesteryear, we now behold these monstrosities, in the year 2018, in all their
dusty, daylit, CG-photorealistic glory. ILM seems to create absolutely everything anybody ever sees anymore, and
admittedly they do a sensational job with these Machines and their action scenes (I briefly applauded at the bridge/day
and the river/night). There are also some excellent puppeteers on the job, and a scene featuring a more crude “T-600”
Terminator-robot (in what is said to be a bombed-out L.A. but looks a lot like a smartly recycled set from I Am Legend)
proves genuinely nightmarish.
And speaking of nightmares, Terminator Salvation also serves as a repository for some of the most weirdly-monikered
people this side of the Zappa family, including castmembers “Common,” “Moon Bloodgood” and “Helena Bonham
Carter,” a composer named “Elf-Man,” plus of course director “McG”…no, hang on, that isn’t what I meant to say.
And speaking of nightmares, the wild card in this Terminator movie -- and it’s a pretty good one (no mere sex-kitten
robot or stretchy former bartender) -- is a cyborg called Marcus (Sam Worthington), derived from a death-row inmate
so bold he’s not afraid to smooch Cyberdyne-villainess Bonham Carter’s glaringly-whiskered chin during the bio-icky
prologue. This man-or-machine thing (we’ve been here before; he’s not a far cry from Robocop in design and delivery)
proves adequately scary (there’s a bit of blood and plenty of yucky suggestion) but moreover Worthington’s mildly
disturbed performance summons an ambivalence which admittedly should not exist (he’s a CYBORG; therefore,
regardless of how seemingly benevolent or confused he may be, in this context he is CLEARLY NOT GOOD), but
which adequately impresses in terms of performance and plotting to render Terminator Salvation not only a thrill-ride but
a reasonably gripping sci-fi yarn (if you can pardon stuff like Skynet being oblivious to blatant Resistance radio
broadcasts; plus the truly ludicrous manufacture of hella-scary-lookin’ but entirely impractical humanoid killing machines
[heck, I love Harryhausen’s skeletons, too]).
Alas, I cannot be quite so kind to the other performances, as there is barely anything to say about them. Arbitrary and
out-of-it is hottie Bloodgood, who seems wholly ignorant of this genre, brings nothing to it, and functions solely as a
highly unlikely narrative tool. Bonham Carter seems lost when what we need is a terrifying tyrant (think Alice Krige), and
Christian Bale -- whom many find “sexy” or “exciting” (really, no idea why) achieves the feat of delivering a
performance even more devoid of nuance than his strangely celebrated turn as the Dark Knight (you could call his flat
rage here a ¾-note shtick). Apart from that, it’s great fun to watch Michael Ironside strutting and fretting his hour upon
a Resistance submarine; plus I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that the creators have not decided to make this explicitly
an Anton Yelchin franchise; plus Bryce Dallas Howard may be the most beautiful woman in the whole world -- yet here
she’s hardly given anything to do, plus she’s saddled with a howler of a melodramatic slo-mo moment near the end, oops.
Now, obviously, I’m going to face the slings and arrows of some disgruntled fanboys irked that I’ve dared to dis Star
Trek XI whilst praising T4 -- so please allow me to clarify: First of all, ALL MOVIES ARE DIFFERENT AND ARE
APPRAISED VERY SUBJECTIVELY, REGARDLESS OF HOW MUCH A CRITIC STRIVES FOR OBJECTIVITY.
Okay? This means a modest romantic comedy may indeed be “better” than a $200-million schlockfest about the end of
the world. In this comparison, specifically, I feel that the creators of Star Trek XI did not particularly respect their
appropriated franchise, and kinda crapped on it. With the Terminator franchise, not only were my expectations far lower
(even working with limited effects and a small clutch of reasonably well-drawn characters, Cameron is all about the bloat
and bombast), but McG, teamed with screenwriters John Brancato & Michael Ferris (who also brought us T3: Rise of
the Machines -- which is weirdly the movie which actually features "Judgment Day" -- whatever “Judgment Day”
means, when Machines just go around killing humans?), genuinely respect both their limited source material and their
audience. They strive earnestly to give us the admittedly simple goods, and their reach does not exceed their grasp. As a
fan of well-wrought post-apocalyptic fare, I had a lot of fun watching this movie.
But is it perfect? Oh, heck, how could it be? The Terminator machine (pardon the pun) has never been the richest font in
sci-fi anyway, and McG & Co. here pilfer everything from Johnny Mnemonic ("jacking in") to The Matrix ("Chosen
One"), Blade Runner (Skynet H.Q., San Francisco) to Attack of the Clones (droid factory) just to (pardon the pun) flesh
it out. But they do it -- that’s what’s cool. While the characters may come up lacking (John Connor seems, to me, more
liability than hero), the movie serves up earnest thrills (and excessive boom-boom) in abundance, but strives to great
effect (pardon the pun) to keep the feeling visceral, tense, gripping. Despite the facile storyline, the none-too-subtle
imagery (and scary sounds!) of hunted souls and very scary prison camps -- summoning the theme of sustaining
humanity in the midst of sheer epic malevolence (which Star Trek XI handles like a cheap toy) -- sends Terminator
Salvation straight to the gut, and, as the very improbable post-apocalyptic audio cassette of series-legend Sarah Connor
puts it, “a person could go crazy thinking about this.” It’s this continuing vision of our world gone mad which makes
this highly iconic movie compelling -- infusing it with adequate soul to count it a success.
Terminator Salvation
Entertainment Value: 11/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
~Gregory Weinkauf, 19 May, 2009
The Terminator series rocks on.
BY GREGORY
It’s clearly an uphill climb, trying to build a movie out of iconography rather than soul, and such is the challenge faced
by Terminator Salvation -- technically the fourth Terminator movie…although, if you can dig it, also sort of a prequel,
albeit one taking place in the future. Happily, however, unlike the recent franchise jump-start of Star Trek XI (which I
consider energetic but idiotic), this particular science-fiction/time-travel/post-apocalyptic-action romp knows its context
and terrain, and sticks firmly to them, never succumbing to the maddening plot-convolutions and wink-wink wankery
which render the new Trek more a crude hijacking than any sort of rebirth. By contrast, Terminator 4 plays mostly
gritty, mean and bombastic, and -- due to the relative simplicity of its franchise (Machines Kill People; People Fight Back;
Q.E.D.) -- it comes up mostly aces, delivering one of the coolest post-apocalyptic thrill-rides since the respective career
peaks of Charlton Heston and Mel Gibson.
As for the iconography, this is why we’re here: The peculiarly messianic John Connor (Christian Bale) basically spends
the movie scowling, growling and fighting Skynet -- which, for those new to this choppy, quarter-century-old series, is
the cool name for the global, Machine-run network which hastily turned against humanity and wiped out most of us. The
survivors -- the Resistance, natch -- spend their post-end-days fleeing killer Machines (most iconically, the “T-800”
endoskeleton made famous beneath Governor Schwarzenegger’s formerly youthful physique and oh-so-‘80s Gargoyles),
and/or occasionally waging zany, Ewok-like skirmishes against them. Make no mistake: The Machines (including also
flying Hunter-Killers, creepy “water-willies” and a ginormous-obnoxious robot which ostentatiously releases high-speed
killer droid-cycles from its shins) are both very cool-looking and very lethal -- and, unlike in James Cameron’s moody,
model-based, nocturnal flash-forwards of yesteryear, we now behold these monstrosities, in the year 2018, in all their
dusty, daylit, CG-photorealistic glory. ILM seems to create absolutely everything anybody ever sees anymore, and
admittedly they do a sensational job with these Machines and their action scenes (I briefly applauded at the bridge/day
and the river/night). There are also some excellent puppeteers on the job, and a scene featuring a more crude “T-600”
Terminator-robot (in what is said to be a bombed-out L.A. but looks a lot like a smartly recycled set from I Am Legend)
proves genuinely nightmarish.
And speaking of nightmares, Terminator Salvation also serves as a repository for some of the most weirdly-monikered
people this side of the Zappa family, including castmembers “Common,” “Moon Bloodgood” and “Helena Bonham
Carter,” a composer named “Elf-Man,” plus of course director “McG”…no, hang on, that isn’t what I meant to say.
And speaking of nightmares, the wild card in this Terminator movie -- and it’s a pretty good one (no mere sex-kitten
robot or stretchy former bartender) -- is a cyborg called Marcus (Sam Worthington), derived from a death-row inmate
so bold he’s not afraid to smooch Cyberdyne-villainess Bonham Carter’s glaringly-whiskered chin during the bio-icky
prologue. This man-or-machine thing (we’ve been here before; he’s not a far cry from Robocop in design and delivery)
proves adequately scary (there’s a bit of blood and plenty of yucky suggestion) but moreover Worthington’s mildly
disturbed performance summons an ambivalence which admittedly should not exist (he’s a CYBORG; therefore,
regardless of how seemingly benevolent or confused he may be, in this context he is CLEARLY NOT GOOD), but
which adequately impresses in terms of performance and plotting to render Terminator Salvation not only a thrill-ride but
a reasonably gripping sci-fi yarn (if you can pardon stuff like Skynet being oblivious to blatant Resistance radio
broadcasts; plus the truly ludicrous manufacture of hella-scary-lookin’ but entirely impractical humanoid killing machines
[heck, I love Harryhausen’s skeletons, too]).
Alas, I cannot be quite so kind to the other performances, as there is barely anything to say about them. Arbitrary and
out-of-it is hottie Bloodgood, who seems wholly ignorant of this genre, brings nothing to it, and functions solely as a
highly unlikely narrative tool. Bonham Carter seems lost when what we need is a terrifying tyrant (think Alice Krige), and
Christian Bale -- whom many find “sexy” or “exciting” (really, no idea why) achieves the feat of delivering a
performance even more devoid of nuance than his strangely celebrated turn as the Dark Knight (you could call his flat
rage here a ¾-note shtick). Apart from that, it’s great fun to watch Michael Ironside strutting and fretting his hour upon
a Resistance submarine; plus I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that the creators have not decided to make this explicitly
an Anton Yelchin franchise; plus Bryce Dallas Howard may be the most beautiful woman in the whole world -- yet here
she’s hardly given anything to do, plus she’s saddled with a howler of a melodramatic slo-mo moment near the end, oops.
Now, obviously, I’m going to face the slings and arrows of some disgruntled fanboys irked that I’ve dared to dis Star
Trek XI whilst praising T4 -- so please allow me to clarify: First of all, ALL MOVIES ARE DIFFERENT AND ARE
APPRAISED VERY SUBJECTIVELY, REGARDLESS OF HOW MUCH A CRITIC STRIVES FOR OBJECTIVITY.
Okay? This means a modest romantic comedy may indeed be “better” than a $200-million schlockfest about the end of
the world. In this comparison, specifically, I feel that the creators of Star Trek XI did not particularly respect their
appropriated franchise, and kinda crapped on it. With the Terminator franchise, not only were my expectations far lower
(even working with limited effects and a small clutch of reasonably well-drawn characters, Cameron is all about the bloat
and bombast), but McG, teamed with screenwriters John Brancato & Michael Ferris (who also brought us T3: Rise of
the Machines -- which is weirdly the movie which actually features "Judgment Day" -- whatever “Judgment Day”
means, when Machines just go around killing humans?), genuinely respect both their limited source material and their
audience. They strive earnestly to give us the admittedly simple goods, and their reach does not exceed their grasp. As a
fan of well-wrought post-apocalyptic fare, I had a lot of fun watching this movie.
But is it perfect? Oh, heck, how could it be? The Terminator machine (pardon the pun) has never been the richest font in
sci-fi anyway, and McG & Co. here pilfer everything from Johnny Mnemonic ("jacking in") to The Matrix ("Chosen
One"), Blade Runner (Skynet H.Q., San Francisco) to Attack of the Clones (droid factory) just to (pardon the pun) flesh
it out. But they do it -- that’s what’s cool. While the characters may come up lacking (John Connor seems, to me, more
liability than hero), the movie serves up earnest thrills (and excessive boom-boom) in abundance, but strives to great
effect (pardon the pun) to keep the feeling visceral, tense, gripping. Despite the facile storyline, the none-too-subtle
imagery (and scary sounds!) of hunted souls and very scary prison camps -- summoning the theme of sustaining
humanity in the midst of sheer epic malevolence (which Star Trek XI handles like a cheap toy) -- sends Terminator
Salvation straight to the gut, and, as the very improbable post-apocalyptic audio cassette of series-legend Sarah Connor
puts it, “a person could go crazy thinking about this.” It’s this continuing vision of our world gone mad which makes
this highly iconic movie compelling -- infusing it with adequate soul to count it a success.
Terminator Salvation
Entertainment Value: 11/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
~Gregory Weinkauf, 19 May, 2009
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| John Connor prepares to address the ASC. © 2009 Warner Bros. |
Friendly Note: This review contains two irresistibly funny links not intended for children, nor for anyone who's never experienced the language used on a children's playground. Thank you. ~Editor. |