Less Transformers more Act of Valor director Peter Berg's Battleship is a bombastic idiotic and ear canal-shattering love letter to the Navy slathered with a summer blockbuster sugarcoating that sufficiently masks any glimmer of heart. Following suit with their previous adaptation Transformers toy company Hasbro has transformed their popular board game into a sci-fi action movie as stiff and lifeless as the plastic pieces used to play. The saving grace is Berg's fondness for the ridiculous injecting Top Gun-level machismo into his tale of aliens vs. boats. Silliness is cinematic buoyancy for a movie as lazy as Battleship.
Continually finding himself in trouble's way roughneck Alex Hopper (Taylor Kitsch of TV's Friday Night Lights and John Carter) enlists in the U.S. Navy alongside his boy scout brother Stone (Alexander Skarsgård) and under the supervision of his lady friend Sam's (Brooklyn Decker) overbearing father Admiral Shane (Liam Neeson). Alex works his way up the chain of command quickly earning the rank of Lieutenant just in time for the annual competitive skirmish with the Japanese Navy. It's all fun and games until — per usual — aliens drop down from the stars and wreak havoc on Hawaii. With most of the fleet trapped on the outskirts thanks to a ship-proof forcefield Alex is forced to command his own ship and take down the intergalactic adversaries with old school style. Discombobulated radar in alien waters means Alex and his team are shooting blind — will B11 be a hit or a miss?
Kitsch spends most of his time rubbing shoulders with Petty Officer 'Weps' (Rihanna) and the rest of his diligent crew whipping up ways to defeat the alien forces who only go on the offensive when attacked. That's just the beginning of the storytelling's illogic moment after moment favoring Michael Bay-inspired mayhem and tensionless spats of screaming aboard the ship's bridge over coherency. There's an Independence Day-inspired moment where an alien creature palms Kitsch's face unleashing imagery of their devastated home planet to his mind. Maybe? That never comes back and an explanation of why the aliens are here why we're fighting them or if they're really that bad at all never comes into play. Kitsch and his men just know the world's under attack and we have to blow the opposition to smithereens.
Ensuring attentive brains are never too focused the perspective in Battleship is ever-shifting jumping from Alex's Destroyer to Sam and her paraplegic rehab patient Lieutenant Colonel Mick Canales together on the run from alien ground troops. Around Battleship's halfway point when the duo partners with a twitchy scientist (Hamish Linklater) and Mick rises above his disability to beat the living daylights out of an extraterrestrial is when Berg throws his hands in the air stops caring and pulls out all the stops. Giant alien roller balls that rip up everything in their path? Check. Bouncing space ships that can only be combated using water displacement theory? Check. Navy vets returning for one…last…job? Check check. Before the finale of this 131 minute monstrosity Kitsch and his Japanese counterpart Yugi Nagata (Tadanobu Asano) sit down to play an actual game of Battleship. Sure it's with actual missiles but there's a grid there's a target and there's shouting out of corresponding numbers. For those worried about board game fan service it's there (but don't sit around waiting for the infamous tagline).
Unlike his turn in John Carter Kitsch is perfectly suited for the bro atmosphere of Battleship where every moment of drama begs for hammy delivery and crazy eyes. Decker too is an asset to the overly epic blockbuster — a step up from the reductive arm candy roles of the Transformers movies. Everyone else is barely a blip on the radar; Neeson is deprived of a single badass moment while Rihanna proves she can memorize and playback scripted lines as well as pop song lyrics. Berg has control of his action in a way that's more enjoyable than the previous Transformers films but it still plays like a tired clone. The initial two-thirds of Battleship that takes itself too seriously is exhausting. The final barrage is pure lunacy. Whether you can stay afloat for that long is the true test of heroism.
When I was in eight grade, one of my best friends threw me a surprise birthday party. She accidentally forwarded the mass e-mail invitation to me. Needless to say, come party time, I was unsurprised. But not half as unsurprised as I am at the news of another Transformers movie in the works.
I know. That was quite possibly the most roundabout, unwarranted, horrendous introduction to a story on all of the known Internet. The worst part is, it's not entirely true. But that comes with the territories. The Internet, eighth grade, friendship: they're all fertile grounds for lies and deception. I'd now like to segue from the word 'deception' to the formal name 'Decepticon,' and to reiterate that there is, according to Hasbro CEO Brian Goldner, a fourth Transformers film being planned.
Hopefully it's planned a little better than my eighth grade surprise party, which may or may not have actually happened (it's hard to tell now). One thing's for sure: neither event will have involved the presence of Shia LaBeouf. The Transformers series star stated previously, right around the time Dark of the Moon blastsploded into theaters, that were a fourth film to develop, he would not be on board. His reasons? The will to grow, experience new types of filmmaking, and to create different characters and stories. A pretty noble rationale. Far more noble than that behind his absence at my eighth grade surprise party, if you ask me.
But the former Sam Witwicky won't be the only one expected to Shia-way from the inevitable Trans4mers. Michael Bay has been suggested to relinquish his directorial chair unto another filmmaker looking to get on board with the wildly successful franchise. Shia mentioned around the same time he made his own statement of eventual absence that Bay would likely not be interested in a fourth movie. Bay currently has his sights on Pain and Gain, a crime film on a much smaller scale than that to which Bay is accustomed.
So, new star, new director...we may be saddled up for another Transformers movie, but it's shaping up to be one unlike its three predecessors. Maybe a new director will offer an entirely new perspective on the interplanetary war between the Autobots and the Decepticons. Perhaps new audiences—if there are indeed ones untapped by the first three movies—will be drawn to a different vantage point. Or, perhaps we'll be in for Transformers: Jumping of the Shark...a ruination of the incredibly popular series. Nobody knows this for sure. The movie itself was something we could all hang our hats on...but what we're in for with this movie? Well, that'll be much more surprising.
Much like my eighth grade birthday. Which I imagine you're beginning to suspect I spent alone.
If Transformers: Dark of the Moon is indeed Michael Bay’s final entry in the Hasbro toy-inspired franchise as he has repeatedly intimated then it is a fitting swan song for a director whose lust - and gift - for spectacle remains unmatched. Exhilarating and exasperating awe-inspiring and stupefying the third installment in the blockbuster alien-robot saga is less a movie than a prolonged manic episode. In other words it’s a Michael Bay film.
Any suspicion that Bay might have matured at all since his last film 2009’s Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen vanishes immediately after Dark of the Moon’s opening credits when model-actress (in that order) Rosie Huntington-Whiteley replacing tempestuous Megan Fox as the franchise’s resident eye candy is introduced ass-first. The camera lingers on her backside mesmerized as she makes her way up the stairs to summon our hero Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) from the bed she inexplicably shares with him. For a director so notoriously ADD-afflicted as Bay he can show remarkable focus when circumstances require it.
Times are tough for our boy Sam who despite having saved the world on two separate occasions can’t find a job. With the Decepticon scourge abated (for now) Optimus Prime Bumblebee and the rest of Sam’s Autobot pals have gotten side gigs as mechanized Hans Blixes roaming the planet in search of illegal WMDs and eliminating the regimes that harbor them. Feeling left out and finding little comfort in the arms his undeservedly hot girlfriend Sam yearns for a shot at more world-saving action.
He finds it soon enough when he is drafted into a plot so sprawling and convoluted that to describe it in full would extinguish what little neurochemical reserves I’ve managed to replenish since last night’s screening. It’s built on an enticing bit of revisionist history which casts the war between the Autobots and Decepticons as the real inspiration for the Cold War space race. It seems that many years ago an Autobot spacecraft carrying a technology that could turn the tide in their centuries-long war crash-landed on the moon. Alerted to the crash JFK immediately initiated the Apollo program with the specific purpose of harvesting technology from the craft before the Soviets could.
But that’s only part of the story as Sam learns when confronted with evidence by a raving co-worker (Ken Jeong) at his new job. (The two have a tussle in the loo – setting the stage for a hi-larious gay-insinuation joke. Vintage Bay!) Turns out there there’s much more to that fallen craft than anyone realizes and if its undiscovered cargo falls into the wrong hands – say Megatron and the Decepticons who are quietly regrouping in Africa – the implications could be devastating.
Dark of the Moon can be roughly divided into two parts. The first is a conspiracy thriller with a surreal comic bent with Bay aiming for – and dare I say nearly achieving – a quirky Coen Brothers vibe as Sam delves headlong into the moon mystery. (The presence of Coen veterans Frances McDormand John Turturro and John Malkovich among the cast reinforces the connection.) Credit screenwriter Ehren Kruger for recognizing that material this preposterous requires a suitably ludicrous sense of humor. But there’s also a sharpness and irreverence to Dark of the Moon’s wit that previous Transformers films have lacked. (It’s still however steadfastly juvenile: When Sam locks eyes with his future girlfriend for the first time his mom exclaims “What a gorgeous box!” while gazing at an unrelated object in the background.) Dark of the Moon's screenplay is a vast improvement over Revenge of the Fallen's in that it is an actual screenplay and not a stack of index cards.
The second half of the film centering on the Decepticons’ extended siege of Chicago unfolds essentially in one long action sequence. It’s as if Bay having sufficiently answered the biggest complaint about the previous film – the lack of a discernible plot – is suddenly unburdened free to commence the all-out sensory onslaught he’s been planning all along. In doing so he all but disavows the film’s first half rendering much of its storyline superfluous.
The battle scenes are truly epic – unprecedented in grandeur and scale and utterly resplendent in 3D – but the endless spectacle induces a kind of delirium. Each frame is positively crammed with images far more than our feeble non-Michael Bay brains could ever hope to process at the breakneck speed he presents them. And no two shots ever look the same: Even a simple shot-reverse-shot dialogue exchange shifts perspective on seemingly every other word. The net effect of Bay’s frenzied handiwork is a state of joyful discombobulation: mouth agape bewildered basking in the dopamine blush.
September 07, 2010 12:49pm EST
Oscar-nominee and bad-ass extraordinaire Liam Neeson just joined the cast of Battleship. You know, that movie based on a board game? Yeah. That Battleship. Eeesh.
In the Peter Berg-directed film, Neeson will play Admiral Shane, a Naval officer near the center of a grand-scale science fiction story about a fleet of ships that defend Earth from alien invaders.
Friday Night Lights star Taylor Kitsch and True Blood vampire Alexander Skarsgård, along with Rihanna and Brooklyn Decker, are all appearing in the Universal Pictures production. The movie is produced by Scott Stuber, Sarah Aubrey, and Berg, along with Hasbro's Brian Goldner and Bennett Schneir, and Duncan Henderson. Filming started today in Hawaii, which is quickly becoming a go-to destination for any film that requires a beach, water, boats and scantily clad women.
Though I've no doubt in my mind that Neeson won't steal the show (unless Skarsgard's abs do), we can't help but wonder why a veteran of productions as acclaimed and wide-ranging as Schindler's List, Kinsey and Taken would join a guaranteed-to-be-awful film like this. Seriously. Aliens from space engaging in naval war? Blech. Nothing about Battleship sounds appealing. Maybe Neeson just wanted to make a quick buck....or needed a vacation, since Kitsch and Skarsgard will likely be doing all of the heavy lifting anyway.
G.I. JOE: THE RISE OF COBRA stars CHANNING TATUM and SIENNA MILLER helped to kick off a day of trading on Tuesday (04Aug09) when they rang the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. The actors were accompanied by co-star Rachel Nichols, director Stephen Sommers and producers Lorenzo di Bonaventura and Brian Goldner as they swapped Hollywood glamour for the hustle and bustle of Wall Street to promote the new action movie.
Guy walks into a bar…and all hell breaks loose! In a saloon in Nowheretown USA the regular Joes and Janes are doing the regular deeds when “Hero” (Eric Dane)--introduced via freeze-frame as all characters are with vital statistics typed out including life expectancy--bursts through the door bloodied and warning that “These things are coming.” Well let’s just say his “life expectancy” was ambitious. Then his er widow “Heroine” (Navi Rawat) bursts through the door with the same urgency. The motley crew of patrons and employees (Krista Allen Balthazar Getty Judah Friedlander Henry Rollins Clu Gulager and Duane Whitaker) are all caught off-guard but soon have to take the threat seriously. The threat as it turns out comes from monsters--as they are technically known in the film--stalking them from outside the bar. Which is never good. Like any true campy horror flick Feast’s cast is decidedly C-list (to put it mercifully). In fact if you watched the most recent season of Bravo’s Project Greenlight show--on which Feast was greenlit and filmed--you’re more likely to think of this group as reality TV stars than movie veterans which isn’t a knock on their talent! Rawat (TV’s The O.C. and Numb3rs) scores the meatiest role but doesn’t always look like the right choice for it. Getty who is slowly creeping towards possible “It” status is likable but snagging all the good lines never hurts. Friedlander is Hollywood’s most notorious “Oh that guy!” guy whom you’ll instantly recognize once you see him. Predictably he plays the doofus but plays it well. (Talk about being typecast!) The beautiful Allen maybe best known as George Clooney’s rumored on/off girlfriend can act but is perhaps too pretty for her own good a la pre-Monster Charlize Theron. And Rollins the aging punk-rock icon who usually plays harder-edged roles cleans up nice here so to speak. Project Greenlight is so much fun to watch but for director John Gulager the televised fishbowl that was his Hollywood directorial debut must’ve been absolute hell. With so much quibbling on the set and in the offices to concoct a product that both makes for great TV and a profitable movie--its quality seemed of secondary importance on the show--is so far from what moviemaking is about; the filmmaker’s (a.k.a. “winner” of the contest) voice if not entire career is automatically stifled in the process. As expected the show also turned Feast into a mess. The intros for each character and their life expectancy are somewhat clever (thanks to writers Marcus Dunstan and Patrick Melton) but not properly executed. From that point on Feast has moments that are fun in a sleazy way but most notably the director just seems absent or muted--there’s nothing distinctive which is where the director typically comes in. And the graininess hurts the film’s look often coming across as more of a student film than proper B-horror.