About a year ago, I learned that Michael Crichton’s superb novel Timeline was being given the celluloid treatment, to be released sometime in 2003. Considering the engrossing and thoughtful nature of the book—in a dead heat with Jurassic Park for my favorite Crichton—this was exciting news, and I was encouraged that Richard Donner would be helming the adaptation. Despite some recent turkeys, Donner had Superman and the Lethal Weapon series under his belt, making me cautiously optimistic that the cinematic version would be, at the least, an entertaining version. Regrettably, Donner performs an appendectomy on the story with a rusty butter knife, butchering it in every way imaginable. If I sound bitter, there’s a reason—I am bitter. With all the mainstream rubbish around these days, I’d hoped that such a terrific story would get the proper transfer it deserved and spice up the adventure genre a bit. Silly me. Everyone should buy the book instead of wasting greenbacks on this dreck, but I’ll indulge in a brief summary anyway.
Several archeology students (André Marek, Chris, and Kate) must go back to medieval times to rescue their professor. Unfortunately, this lands them smack in the middle of the war between France and England, on the very night when England will fall. Compounding things is that only Marek, who’s obsessed with the middle ages, is able to effortlessly blend into the times. This isn’t a typical time-travel plot, though; Crichton’s painstaking research and patience result in a multi-layered novel. Lots of clever details surface when the gang is back in the 14th century, many of them based on Marek’s extreme knowledge of the period. For instance, Marek lectures Chris about the remarkable physical condition that the knights are in, as they can ride for hours in heavy armor without getting winded. This knowledge becomes crucial later during a riveting joust, where Chris and Marek must ride to stay alive. Another example: near the conclusion, Chris is forced to fight an exiled knight underneath a waterfall. Earlier, he would’ve been overmatched but he’s able to stave off death until help comes, due to his natural progression throughout the book. Sounds great, doesn’t it? It’s too bad the movie has almost none of it. Donner’s version has so many problems that it’s a shame to just pick a few, but here goes:
Problem #1: Timeline falls victim to the typical Hollywood curse. Condense, inject the love story with an unbearable amount of cloying sap, rinse, and repeat. Donner makes sure not to miss a step. Many of the best scenes from Crichton’s book are lopped off, including the aforementioned joust and loony knight. The love stories, in the book a backdrop to the minor matter of surviving war-ridden France, battle their way to the forefront with appalling self-importance. Included is an unintentionally hysterical scene where Marek and Lady Claire float downstream, alternating cheesy lines while death lingers around them. Oh yes…they’d met all of 30 minutes ago. That’s not even mentioning the romance between Chris and Kate, which doesn’t come to fruition until the aftermath in the novel. There are simply a few splashes of their developing feelings throughout. Here, of course, there’s an ample helping of sentimentality, leading to a complete reversal of Kate’s feelings. That Donner ‘brilliantly’ reduced the time that the crew was back in time from a few days to SIX HOURS didn’t help the absurdity.
Problem #2: Did they hire Kangaroo Jack to pen the script? If there’s a cliché that wasn’t used here, I couldn’t find it. The performances aren’t too bad save for Frances O’Connor embarrassing the character of Kate—even Paul Walker is okay—but they’re given nothing of merit to work with. When I’m hyping Paul Walker as a bright spot, you know we’re in trouble…
Problem #3: The entire scientific infrastructure that Timeline revolves around is completely skimmed over. Having read the book, I knew what was going on but I can’t imagine that those unfamiliar with the story will be clear about how the hell these guys wound up in the 14th century. Supposedly, this is a rough print of the film, but an entire reconstruction of the screenplay and narrative would be needed to make this crap even slightly redeemable. As I mentioned earlier, go buy the book. It’s great stuff, and not even Richard Donner can take that away from us. He sure gave his A+ effort, though. For a few minutes after leaving the theatre, I forgot how terrific the novel is, what with being in a state of extreme savage anger and all that jazz.
1/4
In Master and Commander, Peter Weir’s first film since The Truman Show in 1998, we finally have an adventure film that’s not dumbed down to the lowest denominator of common cretin. With Weir at the helm, there was certainly reason for optimism, but after the disappointment of Richard Donner’s Timeline, I maintained a cautious approach. Rejoice, however —Master and Commander is very strong in most respects, particularly the mature manner in which Weir controls the storyline. Things begin with a five-minute stretch of establishing shots—the sea, the ship, the atmosphere. There’s no score (yet); instead, there’s the salty silence of the ocean, lapping against the stern of the H.M.S Surprise and setting the picture’s texture.
With the Napoleanic wars as a backdrop, Master and Commander is the story of Captain Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) and his ship of noblemen, mates, and scurvy sea dogs. They sail to the far side of the world in search of the French ship Acheron, a sleek gunner that twice blindsides the H.M.S Surprise during the course of the film. The Surprise is badly damaged—several die and many are wounded. Aubrey is forced to choose between his pride and reality, to discern whether his aging vessel is indeed capable of destroying the Acheron, or if that’s just a pipe dream of a veteran old sea dog. Mixing long shots that snare the oceanic feel with close-ups of the ship’s hustle and bustle, Weir pulls you in and never really lets go throughout. Small details aren’t forgotten, and his expert use of music drastically aids the final product. Twice, we’re forced to watch completely anesthetic-free operations; one an amputation, one the removal of a bullet. Both are performed without the crutch of a score to enlighten us on the severity of the situation. Instead, the sounds of the business-like voices and tools clinking is almost as wince-worthy as the knife scene in Cries and Whispers…and those of us who’ve seen Bergman’s masterpiece know just how painful that can be to sit through (Insert snide comment here, Bergman haters). The cinematography is consistently sharp, and when the score does rear its head, it lurks in the background of battle scenes, never venturing into the forefront to overpower the actual storyline. The sweeping narrative is told smoothly, with plenty of witty lines and a mostly sharp screenplay.
Along with Guy Pearce of Memento and L.A. Confidential fame, I’ve always found Crowe to be one of the finest and most versatile actors working today, and this is one of his finest performances. He can be an asshole away from the set all he pleases. Actually, if he truly is the prick that magazines make him out to be, it makes his work here all the more impressive; there’s a warmth underneath his eyes throughout, hinting at the care he has for his men buried underneath a gruff exterior. Never resorting to hammy gestures, Captain Jack commands his crew—and Crowe the celluloid—with restraint and dignity. He quietly demands respect without raising his voice—I was strangely reminded of the control that the Mr. Georges Lopez exhibits in To Be and To Have, Nicolas Philibert’s wonderful documentary about a one-room classroom in rural France. Crowe’s work here is oddly similar in its minimalist tone. Much has been made of his, er, added girth in Master and Commander, but the detractors seem to be forgetting that he did the same for The Insider back in 1999, only to drop mass poundage for his role as Maximus in Gladiator (2001). Anyway, the fast food doesn’t hinder Crowe’s screen presence at all, and he’s helped by the superb supporting work of Paul Bettany as Dr. Stephen, a quiet naturalist who fights only as a last resort. Some of the film’s most subtle and affecting moments involve the two alone, discussing and debating policy and loyalty. Their friendship is almost transcendent in its authenticity, extraordinarily rare in the age of soppy onscreen relationships. With a lesser director aboard, Master and Commander would doubtless have been an unmitigated stinker, full of cheese and clichés up the wazoo. Instead, Weir crafts an intelligent and genuine adventure, appropriate for fans of all genres. I might be overrating it ever so slightly, as I freely admit this is my kinda movie (when done right), but I see no reason to rate it lower after leaving the theater so pumped up.
Now granted, I might be a bit biased as I think Angelina Jolie, the voluptuous beauty who plays the title role, is easily the sexiest woman in Hollywood (if not the stratosphere). Still, she seems to be one of those rare women who defies the typical “type,” as I’ve yet to meet an individual of either sex who doesn’t consider her extremely attractive. Jolie’s also a good actress and pretty much carries this franchise on her back. Without her, Tomb Raider 2 would be nothing more then another yawn-inducing special-effects fest in a summer filled with them. With her, however, Tomb Raider 2 becomes almost compulsively watchable, as Jolie’s bee-stung lips and hypnotic aura slowly take the atmosphere over. In honesty, she saves the film from being a complete disaster, as it comes equipped with all the prerequisites for an atomic bomb of a movie. Dialogue soaked in clichés, prototypical love story drenched in treacle, mediocre computer graphics, zero non-Lara character development. Every time these splendid traits threaten to ruin the film, however, Lara Croft swoops in with an uzi and makes it all better.
est I imply that Jolie is the only reason to see the film, director Jan de Bont (of Speed fame) actually shows a gift for cinematography, choosing beautiful locations in Hong Kong and Greece among others to shoot the film. There are some lovely shots that indicate an understanding of framing and composition. Unfortunately, de Bont shows no such gifts for dialogue or many other elements of cinema. A certain suspension of belief is of course needed in a picture of this genre, but Croft punching an attacking shark in the nose, sending it fleeing like a wounded baby, is a bit much. De Bont takes over for Simon West, who helmed the original Tomb Raider, but no difference is noticable – the styles of the two films are essentially identical, though.fans of the video game will likely connect to the sequel a bit more. There’s more of an arcade feel here, with quick cuts to different locations and constant movement. Despite Tomb Raider 2‘s countless flaws, I’d rather watch Jolie masquerade around Africa with two guns blazing then hear Keanu Reeves spout pretentious psychobabble any day.