“The Bourne Legacy”  

David Begelman

Film Critic 

What to do when the star power of your franchise suddenly evaporates like water in the desert? You forge on, because sacrificing a killing at the box office just doesn’t compute—even if what you finally deliver is pretty much a mess. Being Bourne-again won’t turn out to be as uplifting as you surmised.

After a grueling stint in three blockbusters, Matt Damon decided to throw in the towel on the fourth time around. Maybe he had enough of Bourne “Identity,” “Supremacy” and “Ultimatum.” Maybe, despite the promise of a huge salary in the fourth retread of a $1 billion dollar enterprise, he opted for something else. Was he looking for a project more artistically compelling than another shot in a franchise that was beginning to sound like a broken phonograph record. Who knows?

Exit Hollywood super star Matt and his director Paul Greengrass. Enter writer/director Tony Gilroy, who with brother Dan has configured an entirely new 135-minute package drawing its inspirational cachet from the older Robert Ludlum novels. Gilroy scripted the three previous Bourne films. But it seems he’s in over his head as director. “The Bourne Legacy” is like an unpredictable microphysical particle. It goes every which way—and no one way in particular.

Matt Damon’s replacement is Jeremy Renner, fresh from his role as Hawkman in “The Avengers.” He plays Aaron Cross, and—as if you hadn’t guessed—a covert operative who has a nose for all the conspiratorial plans to do him in. Like Jason Bourne, he is also adept at martial arts, not to mention racing motorcycles in the Philippines. It’s a thriller in Manila that seems to go on forever (and with Rachel Weisz as sympathetic Dr. Shearing clinging perilously to him for the ride).

Interminable rides in vehicles careening through streets is as indispensable an item in blockbusters as anything else. The conceit was handled much more compellingly in “Bullitt” and “The French Connection” in the good old days. Today it’s just an extravagant exercise in film footage designed to keep you from nodding off over popcorn. 

Our new hero makes his initial appearance—for no apparent reason—in a mountainous region in Alaska after surfacing from waters so cold Neptune himself would think twice about such a chilling indulgence. He then connects with another superspy who lives in a cabin armed with enough hardware to riddle half of Seward’s Folly.

Other perils of Aaron Cross include eluding drones (and I don’t mean busy bees) monitored to blow him sky high, and keeping wolves at bay in scenes reminiscent of Liam Neeson’s plight in the 2011 “The Grey.”

It seems the inner circle out to dispatch our hero includes the dour team of Eric Byer, a deceptively retired colonel in the USAF (Edward Norton), Ezra Kramer (Scott Glenn) and the seemingly retired Admiral Mark Turso (Stacey Keach). These folks are a mean lot to mess with. And they have an arsenal of equipment to track our hero relentlessly. Where would any blockbuster be without countless computers clicking and flashing away as if they were the real brains behind strategic ploys?

It’s hard to tell how undercover those evil schemers actually are. There’s some suggestion they’re acting outside of officially sanctioned government channels. Upper level functionaries of secret agencies like Pam Landy (Joan Allen) and Noah Vosen (David Strathairn) responsible for all the fuss are seen near the end of the film getting a drubbing from investigatory committees. And Aaron Cross and Dr. Shearing are subsequently seen chugging away in a river boat, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

It’s marvelous to see how all the problems of high tech conspiracy can be dispatched when you put your mind to it. 

       

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Avengers”: Epic Saga or Eye-Sore? 

David Begelman

Film Critic 

When the Wizard of Oz from behind his curtain addressed the quivering Tin Man, it took the form of an inhospitable volley: “You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk!” The tirade was an obvious case of overkill, flung as it was at a guileless target.

Sorry to say, the Wizard’s words may be a bit more apt as a description of Joss Whedon’s 2012 blockbuster, “The Avengers.” The flick grossed 200.3 million in its first weekend, and is paradoxically wowing film critics of every stripe. It is the sixth installment in Marvel Studios’ like-minded fare, and was given a financial jump-start through a handsome loan by Merrill Lynch in 2005.

With a favorable rating by critics of 93% on the website “Rotten Tomatoes,” you wonder whether they are abandoning serious criticism, and writing as though they were press agents for production companies. According to them, the film “lives up to its hype,” and “never forgets its heroes’ humanity.” Balderdash.

The heroes in question are a motley group, faintly reminiscent of a gaggle of notables in All Star Comics of the 1940s. Those included Hawkman, Doctor Fate, Hour-Man, Spectre, Sandman, Atom, Flash, and the Green Lantern—with guest appearances by Superman and Batman. And as though it were a reminder that another half of humanity exists, Wonder Woman was made a later addition to the macho crew fighting for the American way of life.

In “The Avengers,” the fearless band of super heroes is Iron Man (Robert Downey, Jr.), Captain America (Chris Evans), the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner), and Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) as the token female. Other prominent figures include Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. (Samuel L. Jackson), the C.E.O. of the group. He in turn is obliged to follow the directives of nameless bigwigs forever cast in shadows. They have a habit of issuing orders that can be counted on to be wrong.  

Just to show you that mortal heroes can cavort with the otherworldly, Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Loki (Tom Hiddleston), godlike figures recruited from Scandinavian mythology, join the mix. (Thor is the Norse equivalent of Zeus, the thunderous overlord of Mount Olympus in Greek mythology; Loki is the counterpart of Hephaestus, the orthopedically compromised god of fire and the forge.)

The fearless five, along with hammer-flinging Thor, often seem to be no match for the nefarious Loki, who is out to subjugate the earth. After all, he is in control of Tesseract, a mysterious energy source that has allowed him to escape through a portal to become an all-around nuisance. Scenes of what happens to New York City with his newly found power are literally flung at you, with no end in sight. The rapid-fire visual effects of battle and carnage in the film are perhaps what many critics find irresistible, since they speak to a technical mastery of the medium. But the overall effect of the never-ending barrage is one of dreary repetition and, alas, fatigue.

Audiences are becoming inured to the glitziness of technical effects—as in the “The Matrix Revolutions,” “Batman, the Dark Knight” “Underworld” and “Transformers” epics. Believable narratives about other than one dimensional characters have become minor preoccupations. Seamless and less than silly screenplays are fast becoming obsolete with the arrival of each hugely subsidized blockbuster awash in unending violence.

The virtues of “The Avengers” are slim pickings, indeed. They include the quips and asides of Robert Downey, Jr. and Mark Ruffalo’s acting. But these are minority blessings in a bramble of effects that should tax the patience, if not the retinas, of moviegoers. There ought to be more to a film than being bombarded relentlessly with every new-fangled contrivance production technocrats have in store for us.

 

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