Angels & Demons (2009)

Science and Religion. Light and Darkness. Truth and Lies. Matter and Antimatter. All destined to cataclysmically neutralize each other in a single touch, with any small or epic scale, “evil” or “good” plan to compromise these values, destined to fail in the long run. Those were the simple, core concepts of the Angels & Demons novel by Dan Brown. Or shall I rather NOT elegantly put it – Matter of Fact and Matter of Fucked. Oh well, by the time Camerlengo Patrick McKenna proclaims, like a fairy queen on a white unicorn among the holy, devil-clad male hags “Open the doors, and tell the world the truth” you know that something is terribly wrong, preposterous and sometimes outright ridiculous about this movie.
The official Christianity all over the world that lunched a counter campaign against The Da Vinci Code some years ago, now can as well lunch a promotional campaign for this movie which is not just out of the novel’s text, but totally out of context. A backed up by research statement that puts churchyard imagery, tailored ethics and primeval beliefs right to the stake, seems to be reduced to a mumbo-jumbo dynamic dialogue taken from a light or even trash tv show, starring loud-mouthed “religiosos” and I-only-care-for-my-show-off, coward, venal and fallen scientists. Everyone will walk happy from this movie, so safe of the punditry of their beliefs, so sure that two millennia of contradiction and collision between reason and unreasonable, progress and legalized doctrine violence, is just a misunderstanding that can be mended with peace, love, “laughiness”, understanding and unconditional pot. A novel that advocates and advances common sense through an entertaining, masterwork thriller, turns into just an entertaining thriller dressed up in common sense the way a wolf fits in sheep’s clothes. Apart from the obvious light-hearted and heavy-pocketed producers, the architect of this “diplomatic achievement” is ones more the infamous from Batman and Robin Akiva Goldsman, bane of all franchises and originality as a virtue. Koepp, the co-writer, had his time with Spider Man and Jurassic park, but here they both act like mercenary nuns, who tread lightly between the “religiosos’” softness and umbrageousness and everyone else’s nerves. Needless to say that if Goldsman haven’t had so unexpectedly pointed out the best of the Da Vinci Code in the prequel, he would have added a new fan base in his mortal enemy collection – the Dan Brown fans. The not so willing caretaker of this “diplomatic achievement” is the main protagonist itself. I think that the possible miscast Tom Hanks looks more like Robert Langdon in this movie than the previous one, though he neither speaks nor acts in a Professor’s magnitude. But it is actually the screenplay again that, especially regarding his part, turns everything upside – down to, should I say, sacrilegious proportions. Movie Langdon is so deliberately naïve for a Harvard professor that you couldn’t pass the criticism even if you wanted to. When Langdon argues his worst in front of priests bragging on years ago downfallen clichés, it is really a shame for the novel reader to watch. For example, when the Camerlengo says something like “Science is too young to understand religion*” Langdon immediately self-destructs in jerkiness and political correctness. Well guys, in a more than 6.000.000 years humanoid span, high intelligence is also “very young” to understand religion (even if it understands it and promotes it veeeery well if need be), but it is still the best thing we’ve got, the thing that parts us and protect us from beasts and elements, the thing that can even expose our own fears and religious follies. Ok, Langdon occasionally gives historical facts and figures that will shake people from now and then, but generally he acts like a freshman, unsure of his knowledge and abilities. His overpowered by priesthood’s punch lines figure, goes well along with the lack of scientific backup the movie suffers, back up that every Dan Brown hands-on is full and proud of. By seemingly not being aware of the critical close to conclusion Universal Model of Existence, the Origins of Species and so much solid evidence of the chanceful structure and mechanics of evolution – in which a god factor doesn’t fit not even in the bottom line references – Langdon becomes both the bread and the butter of dogmatic mumble. In the novel, Langdon is an academic icon, a well made archetype of how a successful researcher owes to be. A self-confident man, who knows the nature of things and puts them to good use, even near the end at HIS long-shot escape from the helicopter. In the movie he is a less than meets the eye wuss, ready to succumb to punny inner faith struggles and crumble like an old lady, the first time a wise looking smooth talker hits him with a slick verbal sophistication.
Ayelet Zurer plays the totally diminished and unrecognized character of novel’s Vittoria Vetra by doing nothing important in the whole movie apart from showing off her charming Italian accent and elegant figure. Even the romance with Langdon was totally out off the picture so… so much for the appearance anyway! Easy task. Easily executed. Easy to watch.
I’ve never liked Ewan McGregor, and this movie makes no difference. Not as a bon viveur. Not as a Jedi. Not at all. He is typically less than the circumstances call for, so held back, always in such an unwanted control. Well in this movie he got more control than his naturally asks for. Akiva Goldsman, who still tries to make peace with the movie gods, now once again takes the downward slope putting everyone on a pretty short lease – except maybe from the numerous police/security b-characters that were surprisingly well highlighted in the movie – I give you that Aki! The fact that the screenplay was caught between the Writers Strike last year is a good excuse, but good excuses generally spawn bad themes and characters. Pope’s aide in the novel is a methodical, power hungry, criminally malevolent MAN WITH A PLAN. Not an under acted 40 year old virgin, who tries desperately to balance and convince as a conspirator, murderer, schemer and master hypocrite, lost between all predictable religious politeness, village spiritualism and personal gain.
In this movie “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark” and this is certainly not the Danish actor Nikolaj Lie Kaas. The blind pawn, fooled and doped with Vatican mischievousness, fanatic Islamite Hashshashin, through typical for the movie politically correct process, became a colourless and ideologically harmless every day assassin that suited the movie just fine. But this time the actor really plays his part – even a small one like this. He is cold, cool, pretty threatening on the screen and even dominating sometimes, a steadfast stand-out figure among the rather un-cool, hot-shots. I don’t think that it would be an exaggeration to say that he single handedly delivers the best action packs in the movie without acting boastful or unrealistic.
And when almost all else fail (except from the assassin and the great soundtrack) Ron Howard comes to save the day. At least, until you think about the movie twice. He is Goldsman’s accomplice – no doubt about that – but he is illustrious, has a golden eye for action and his pacing – although the movie sometimes feels pretty long – pays the only authentic tribute to the novel. Without doing very much of anything else than acting sensibly, he does the trick and earns his money. The whole movie becomes grandeur of Rome sightseeing, clever commerce, especially rregarding Lancia, is everywhere and the thrilling moments are always catchy and well-shot but without an overall satisfying climax. Flat-out against the clock action, that does not share the prequel’s long philosophical pauses for discussion and controversy, but then critical content of the novel and plot points are missing here to allow a different treatment. Howard lets all characters breathe at the best of the movie’s abilities – so sad that they aren’t allowed by the screenplay to say all that “was initially on their mind”.
All things considered, the Da Vinci Code was a calculated punch in the stomach as a novel and an uppercut for the masses as a movie. The movie Angels & Demons is, at times, just a politically correct puke from the stomach. It looks good and exhilarating, it promises dramatic detoxification, but in the end it just smells bad, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. A masterpiece that never chewed its words and intentions turns into a mass entertainment image, that pampers religious people for all that is worth. Even if this movie doesn’t belong to this blog – and this is probably true – it doesn’t belong where it should and that’s a great loss and even greater annoyance.
For a few dollars more and a few law suits less, an opportunity to adapt a “people changer” novel into an equally powerful movie, is forever lost.


P.P.S. Actually science is much older than religion. When the hominidae ancestor before the human-chimpanzee genome split, took a stone for the first time and use it to brake-open fruit, he applied – without realizing – the scientific rule and reasoning: she saw and visualized the stone against the fruit (observation), she tried the stone against the fruit (experiment), when successful she put it again in use (retrial) and after succeeding multiple times she adopted this way (method) of braking-open fruits. This was long before standing on her hinder legs, using a stick or having even the most basic inquiry about things such as the origin of the sun, the moon and the rest of the natural world, including her. We can flash back on this principle by looking at today’s chimpanzees. They learn to use crude tools and can teach their use to each other, but they are far from any abstract conception of the divine. On the contrary to the popular, media infested, belief that science is an ultra highly perplexed obscurity, remotely far from the human average, the truth is that the scientific…Holy Triad (observation, experiment and retrial) in its core concept, is accessible and useable even by animals. Cause & consequence, evident reality and practicality are simple and reachable. Complex delusions are those requiring complex brains.

Batman & Robin (1997)

Holy Crap Batman! This is your typical "absolutely cannot fail" franchise (Alien, Terminator etc) film gettingass-raped by studio execs making crucial content decisions, when they have no talent, gut or sufficient background to do so. The Cape Crusader got crucified head and thumbs down, in the wake of a crusade for dollars, not even half as successful as each one of the previous attempts. If you wanna know how this miraculous anti-miracle happened and caught everyone off guard, read more and swear, or forever be silenced.
The Batman series started as a reinvention by Tim Burton. He took his dark mood and adapted it to a tortured comic book hero. The results were breathtaking. Batman was a fleshy, noir, psy, multilayered, new age medieval, over the top acting and setting movie, that if you didn’t want to follow it deep, it was also a fun flick to watch. Batman Returns was too dark too soon, (because a little later “dark” became a must, synonymous to movie realism), and so a motion was put forth to lighten up the next film, Tim Burton walked away for better (for him) or for worse (for the fans). Anyhow, in both cases we are talking about a mountainous achievement throughout all movie aspects, a cornerstone in not only how a comic reproduction should be made, but how an action movie should be treated in general.
Enter Joel Schumacher.
Exit reason.
Now, not that Joel Schumacher is an evil director, but he is kinda. His idea to turn Batman into a big-starred parody somehow managed to go by with little scrutiny in Batman Forever. Bad pop-ups out of nowhere. Ok, the Riddler played by the Mask was not a bad idea at all. The Saint was not a sinful of acting either – but that’s not entirely true. The shots and overall pacing were not Burton, but they were certainly up to the task. The soundtrack was a collection of dark jewels shining a disturbing light. But Two Face was an impalpable disgrace and the fun park sets and the dialogue right from the shit-dump of idiocy, oh they were right there from the beginning. TOO much unwanted facts and figures everywhere, bad add-ons and contradictions all over.
So, from early on, the hellish gayness (did I just say GAY?) seemed to unfold slowly, not so discretely, and painfully in a way nobody was used to up to that time. But still ok. Probably all, because there was so much hype and chat around Burton’s veil of dark genius. Not much of an excuse, that is.
And then Batman and Robin aka Shit & Shack aka Nipple & Dickle. Flat & Furious that is, just like that neon toy bat mobile, that neon toy bat pods and the comically unnatural and over proportioned action scenes taken right from a Friday-night stunt men show for urban freaks. Gay (oh, did I say GAY again??) vs. bad day, throttle vs. ice skating, action vs. common sense, acting vs. dignity, production vs. taste and EVERYTHING vs. the stunned, shocked, disgusted, freaked out fan and even worse, the unaware movie bystander. In this quasi dark, pink and purple mess that every faith in Hollywood and humanity is lost, no need for a good actor either. George Clooney says he'll do it. Square-jawed. Popular with the ladies. Fair and square. But Looney Clooney just plays George Clooney. Which is the road he usually takes, but in this case this suave, dashing, and charming Batman seems more like a James Bond by day-Captain Amazing by night trendy dandy, than the tormented knightly investigator of legend. And that's not just it.
In the history of comic & movie bad ideas, Robin is probably one of the worst, but watching this is like staring at a happy graffiti tombstone amidst a desert of a post apocalyptic Eden, set to be chaotically reconstructed. Robin is acted like an all childish, bad tempered punko, and the only thing that he actually beats the crap off is O’ Donnell’s lost bet of a career (at last for †uck’s shake!)
Alicia’s forced, out of place add on of a role, seems surprisingly and exhaustingly too much for her zero talent, grace and charm, and her tough-girl-rag-doll kicking performance is sprinkled with not so kind reminders of her Clueless days. Batman’s shameful spirit and Holy Fan Fury ended her career too.
Uma Thurman, who the last we knew of, she COULD act, is hamming it up to ridiculous proportions. First, when she's playing the nerdo-weirdo Dr. Pamela, exaggerating that part to a level I thought impossible. And then she inexplicably turns into an extremely sexualized villainess whose master plan, by the way, would kill all the plants she advocated protecting.
Arnold wasn’t a bad casting idea at first. His acting is always frozen (no surprise here) and his structure is that of an iceberg (not only the tip of it). When you see Freeze in comics and Arnold’s stills from the movie, somehow it makes sense and it also fired up another great hype wave of fan anticipation back in these days of innocence. But that's all. When you hear Freeze tell Batman "Yew arr not zending mee too da cooola" the urge to laugh, scream and press the red button uncontrollably, is almost indiscriminate and insurmountable. What Arnie can’t terminate, the script can.
Akiva Goldsman should have been banned from Hollywood after this script. Damn, I am so into sarcastic and maybe cheap poetics in my free time, but here I encountered a level of expression so laid low, that it could hardly giggle my balls. It was a completely brainless jumbled crack. Everyone was – miraculously once again – drown in shallow waters. The story, which was pitiful at best, gets completely lost in entirely too many characters. It was so frustrating seeing the origins of certain characters burst to pulp as Goldsman attempted to jam them into the script. Batgirl, who should have never been in this film in the first place, was changed from Commissioner Gordon's daughter to Alfred's niece, which made absolutely no sense. In an attempt, to explain why Freeze was so muscular it was pointed that he was an Olympic gymnast. How freakin' stupid is that? Gymnasts by necessity need to be small in stature to perform well in gymnastics and Arnold is a enormous Bareback Mountain (I said BAREBACK – don’t take pride on it Schumie!) This is indeed a movie full of shit in every single detail from papers to paper sets and paper actors. Goldsman's use of dialogue was highly irritating consisting of nothing but kitsch and pesky juvenile one-liners, one after another, and another, and another, and yet another, till the end of fan.
Even Bane was a misshaped waste. Bane is a much more vicious villain in the comics (read Knightfall epic and weep) with a pretty edgy background but this movie reduced him to a mindless c-gorilla no more important than the costumed bad-ass-my-ass clowns throughout the whole movie.
Finally, when the ghost of Batman past, Alfred, enters the scene, you just want to cry in pain and nostalgia.
It’s just too FOCKIN’ late.
The outcome is a cataclysmic, worth shuttering, mind splitting disaster, making all believability and style Batman had, go out the window – without a bat chute. A conspiracy level act of malevolence that took almost ten years of waste and woe and a miracle man called Nolan to set things right in to the glory ride. Joel Schumacher other than building up a hill of pennies (and not at all the satisfying lot), just didn't give a penny about the characters, dialogue, integrity and the minimum given watching ability of the film. Seriously, I'd have more respect for Schumacher if he had stated that he hated Batman outright, and had intentionally ruined it with his shoot-cute-world of garbage. I‘d hate him again, but this might actually have been just his own personal joke, his what-the-fuck-for-anyway, anti-super hero statement of all time. Instead, it borders harshly on gruesome scars, in a tragic travesty, that anything that is good and worthy in and around the movie business, will never forget or forgive. So, I LOATHE the misacted, miss casted, insipid, disgusting, intentionally flawed, sea full of shame, butcherly disrespectful, provocative to the core of the minimum human artistic condolence, Batman & Robin.
Well Schumie, you miserable little clown, if you want to really know how a great clown is made and what a great clown is being made of, try watching the last Batman instalment. As for us, if Hell hath no less than seven pits, we shall certainly dig and tear you a new one called Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane Directors. Cut.

The Spirit (2008)

A parody? A comedy? A romance? A film - noir? A mystery? An adventure? Is it possible to cut my wrists with a movie ticket or else with the battery door of the remote control? Smart asses usually point out that cinema is first and foremost about visuals and imagery.
Yeah, right, that’s the spirit.
Unfortunately, that isn’t The Spirit. Here you‘ll become witnesses – sorry I meant martyrs – of how a movie with sharp visuals and cutting edge imagery, can be the violent opposite of the words “first” and “foremost”. Honestly, I have never seen such an insanely abysmal movie before. Really, I am SO shocked that I can hardly swear or produce some kind of naturally profane reaction.
The Sin City breakthrough, the 300 epic visualization, all faded away screaming for their creator' s lost soul. Frank Miller’s pencils are almighty but as a director he sucks cock fields like a nuclear vacuum cleaner. I still can’t believe how he could manage to play out such a horrible conception, so jerkily executed. Even if you create such an abomination on purpose, you still have to be exceptionally untalented and even uncultivated to succeed. Was he thinking that he was an Uber-deity or something and wanted to make a cheap rip-off of himself, just to get real – you know!
I don’t even know where to start here. A cliché vigilante story that struggles between promiscuously contradicted themes and idiotic complexities to appear something more than what really is – a formal address to retards exclusively, pseudo avant garde art aesthetics, quotes and lines ripped from some 80s nightmarish asylum, toilet humor jokes worse than the “toilet cistern” first, endlessly long, kitsch, boring, without purpose fight scene of the movie, more and more disgusting gags, a colorless – and not because of the filters – protagonist that is not able to pull a right grin, destined to embrace “nobodiness”, a Samuel Jackson embarrassingly OVER-overacting, a Scarlet Johansson bound to fetishes as the apple of any pervert’s eye, building her puny part from kinky schoolgirl to slutty teacher, from slutty teacher to horny executive, and from horny executive to Reichshuredominazitrix, an Eva Mendez starring as “Her Ass That Won’t Save The Film” – both ladies dead gorgeous and acting like dead – and a multiple cloned bozo – dressed in ancient Greek names because American grunt Miller probably thinks they make him look more intellectual – that makes viewer’s redemption a fat chance.
Overall, the puke of artistic evilness and immaturity rises from the gutters in an excruciating experience that threatens to shred Hollywood’ s spirit via fool and foul necromancy. Miller’s spirits are certainly down after this film and his chips buried all the way down to Davy Jones locker.
Next time, if you want a spirit, just try a scotch malt or something.

Catwoman (2004)

This movie is so rightfully bad that we don't even have to compare Halle Berry with the catwoman archetype Michelle Pfeifer to make a point.
Bloopy and unbalanced action that doesn't succeed in making a climax worth watching, totally out of place hip-hop aesthetics because some assholes think that every movie with black people got to have such, three writers for a story that could have been easily written by a ten year old taking a morning crap, evil-bad acting throughout the whole movie from every living soul having a part, a monument of plastic surgery called Sharon Stone way beyond the end of her career and CGI of a third class video game that no one ever bothered to play. Batman would have commited suicide if he had watched this one, but he has a couple of his own reasons to worry about - both directed by Schumacher.
This time, curiosity won't kill the cat, but it will certainly kill the viewer's good taste.