It’s bio-digital jazz, man

Tron: Legacy

I did my usual spot of market research beforehand, which consists of asking young people who’ve seen the film what they thought of it.  The overriding feeling was “it’s AWEsome” and that the latest Tron experience really ought to be maximised in 3D, and Imax if possible.  As I have both at my disposal, I paid top dollar for the privilege of watching some unknown director’s take on a sequel of a 1982 sci-fi revolution I had not seen – and it was a digital blast.

Tron: Legacy starts with a brief backstory of young Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund, in a 2-dimensional yet strangely charismatic starring role that will surely catapult him into the Big-Time) being effectively orphaned when his technology mogul father (Jeff Bridges) disappears at work one night.  Years later – about 19 by my count – Sam is the stereotypical renegade heir who wants nothing to do with his father’s business that has been turned into a commercially profitable operation by a vaguely malevolent board.  Prompted by the avuncular Alan, Sam visits his father’s old office, types in some code and slips down the rabbit hole into a parallel, computer-programmed world.

So far, so Batman/Matrix/Narnia.  Fathers abandon their children all the time, but few kids expect to find their erstwhile dad running a futuristic universe known as the Grid, and presiding over brutal, gladiatorial games like something out of The Running Man.  Accosted by four beauties straight out of a Daft Punk video and re-costumed in a reflector-strip wetsuit, Sam is immediately hauled off to meet his end in a deadly game of “Wipe-Out” which is basically stupid, but quite simply the coolest stupid I have ever seen.  Strangely, Sam encounters each surprising development with the typical cool of any arrogant, tech-savvy, rich kid who has dropped out of CalTech (presumably out of boredom rather than stupidity) and simply wants to find his dad inside a computer program.

Jeff Bridges, now an Oscar winner, donates as much depth and pathos as is possible for a fairly thin plot that has cannibalised a lot of sources.  There are elements of Star Wars (although the immortal line here is “Sam, I am not your father.  But I am very happy to see you”), biblical references galore (Cain & Abel, the Creation story, fallen angels and sacrificed sons), and the underlying dramatic arc is a pretty basic one of “save the world (real, and programmed)/girl/dad”.  So, too, some of the key characters are pastiches of classics past – British actor Michael Sheen steals his scenes doing a rendition of Frank-N-Furter-meets-Clockwork Orange, throwing in a few Charlie Chaplin moves but thankfully eschewing a stutter or limp.

If soundtrack can be considered a key character (and I think it can), this too borrows – seemingly on long-term loan – from everything that’s ever worked in cinema before.  The overriding theme echoes Inception with its heavy bass, we have the exhilarating string ostinato of the Bourne movies, flourishes of Danny Elfman from his Batman phase, and towards the end a rewarding punch of Vangelis-inspired ’80s pomp, reminiscent (of course) of Blade Runner.  Notably, the aforementioned Daft Punk produced original music for Tron: Legacy and this heightens certain scenes to an almost unbearable level of excitement.

All in all, Tron: Legacy is about style, not quite over substance, but certainly it’s the aesthetic that makes the movie work.  It’s amazing what a glow ring and some fluoro-reflector stripes can do to an otherwise drab, utilitarian (and ubiquitous) outfit.  The stark white production design of Father Flynn’s house, set against the dark, foreboding world he originally created, extends the heaven and hell metaphor with scant concern for subtlety, but this is a spectacle worth experiencing.  And the bigger and more dimensional, the better.

Adieu, adieu

Farewell (L’affaire Farewell)

A true story of Cold War espionage and key players in the Russian, French and American sides, Farewell is a terrific, understated film that reminded me of those my parents brought me up on in the ’80s – Gorky Park, The Fourth Protocol and so on (an entirely appropriate comparison given the film’s historical setting, as well as its style).  Guillaume Canet (a French director and actor whose talent is discussed in earlier reviews in this blog) and Emir Kusturica (the multi-faceted Serbian director/actor/writer/musician) play the young French engineer and aging KGB colonel, respectively, who end up working together to deliver Russian intelligence to the US, thus bringing an end to the Cold War.

Shot in Paris, Moscow and Finland, spoken in French, Russian and English, and with a supporting cast including Willem Dafoe, David Soul and Niels Arestrup (the Corsican gang boss in A Prophet), it’s a tight little story that has you gripped simply because of the inevitable threat to our protagonists’ lives, not because of aliens or monsters or gangsters or natural disasters.   The locations and production design nicely evoke the era, and special pleasure is gleaned from watching the colonel’s west-ophile son enjoying the music of “Queen” on his Sony walkman (curiously, the filmmaker interposes footage of a scantily-clad Freddie Mercury in full swing at a live performance – and it’s enormously entertaining).

The plot is simple, but the detail of it is intricate and requires close attention to the subtitles and quick changes of scene and pace in order to follow what’s happening, to whom, and why.  The impersonations of key figures such as Reagan and Gorbachev are just subtle enough to be keenly observed but not distracting.  And you learn a bit about spying in a pre-Bourne era – all in all, Farewell is a completely engaging slice of a past life.

Not worth her salt

Salt

I know, I’m sorry.  That’s a terrible, predictable cliché.  But so is this film.  Much (and really I mean EVERYTHING) has been made of the fact that Angelina Jolie’s latest offering was written for a male lead, but that  she took on the role, just as is, and *gasp* played it as a woman.

Perhaps that would be impressive if Evelyn Salt was played by Emma Thompson or Emily Watson (oh please! imagine!).  But since the whole world knows Ms. Jolie-Pitt as Lara Croft anyway, I couldn’t find anything in this film to write home about.

It’s a shame – in this current terrorism-obsessed age, it’s almost refreshing to return nostalgically to the good old Cold War days, and have a decent stab at an assassination.  Everyone loves a sleeper agent (particularly one who may or may not realise she is/isn’t one) and the Bourne films have set the bar high for exciting chase scenes atop moving vehicles in exotic locations.  Unfortunately, Phillip Noyce (big ups for Rabbit Proof Fence and the Patriot Games films, which were excellent in their day) has pieced together a pretty mediocre action flick, which doesn’t deliver anything new, and then has the gall to rehash a whole lot of clichés, badly.  Hey, maybe if we put Angelina in a really unconvincing blonde wig, she’ll look kinda Russian!  Need a good guy who’s actually bad? – Liev Schrieber’s free!  Apparently Michael Mann and Peter Berg were in line to direct, and MM being one of my favourite directors, I’m glad he dodged that bullet.  I’m not sure even he could have produced something stylistic, clever and exciting here.

Imagine my disappointment as the titles finally rolled, leaving it distinctly open-ended in a “she’ll be back” Bourne-like way… Well, I can tell you now: I won’t be.