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Review By: Sal - 8/01/05
Having come from a
generation where Spielberg is the standard, one comes to expect much
from the Indiana Jones-creator. Forgiving occasional million-dollar
blunders like Jurassic Park 2, Spielberg is usually a one-shot,
one-smash hit director. Even his “smaller” pictures like Catch Me If
You Can and The Terminal have their own intricacies that only this
director can give us. So when I heard Spielberg was remaking the
classic story War of the Worlds, I could only imagine what epic
brilliance Spielberg would deliver. I am still trying to imagine it.
War of the Worlds highlights the story of a divorced father and his two
children in the midst of a crisis of biblical proportions (a staple of
Spielberg Sci-fi). The cast mainly consists of the unlikely father,
played by new-Spielberg favorite Tom Cruise, the rebellious PIA son
Justin Chatwin, and the sometimes-introspective, sometimes scream-y
daughter portrayed by Dakota Fanning. The entire tale reminds this
reviewer of the basic plot of Fellowship of the Ring; a small group
travels from one point to another, gradually getting smaller as
adversity increases. However, when you have a cast of three, one
imagines you need all the actors you can get. We lose our traitorous,
Red Sox fan Robbie, to spur-of-the-moment patriotism, and the rest of
the film highlights Cruise’s love and dedication for daughter Fanning.
The film has a few surprise guest-stars. Morgan Freeman provides the
voice of the narrator with a calculating introduction and conclusion,
with an injection of warm-heartedness. Freeman exists to remind us that
there could possibly be a benevolent force in this chaotic world,
though represented it’s still the lowest paid actor in Hollywood. A
head-scratch inducing cameo was Tim Robbins, acting as the safe haven
for Cruise and his daughter during the crisis. It doesn’t take long for
the audience to realize through Robbins’ physical appearance and
uncouth ramblings about America that he is a danger. Robbins’
threateningly extreme level of patriotism can only be satisfied by an
implied bludgeoning to death, and we can get back to the movie.
When we discover the aliens’ secret weakness, you really start to
notice that 116 minute run-time. After this, it’s the simple matter of
dispatching the aliens and meeting up with the entire family. The
entire family. When Cruise and Fanning arrive on the front steps of a
surprisingly untouched upscale apartment complex, we don’t just bare
witness to the heart-warming reunion of Cruise, his children and their
mother. Her ex-husband emerges from behind the door, completing the
cycle. What a happy, forward-thinking film. But what’s this? Two more
heads emerge from behind the door. Why, it’s grandma and grandpa! They
survived the alien holocaust too! Where’s Sparky? He can carry the
newborn baby out in a red wagon, thus completing the Hollywood
convention-fest and giving everyone diabetes from the overtly sweet,
sappy scene.
What is really striking about this film is the apparent connection
Spielberg seems to have with Boston. Cruise’s son is a Sox fan. The
family moved to Boston after Cruise’s wife left him, and it seems the
aliens could not bring themselves to destroy Bean Town. Newark, New
Jersey receives total and complete Armageddon in the form of tripod
machines and ray guns that reduce a man into dust in seconds, but once
in Boston the aliens decide to take it easy.
War of the Worlds suffered from two problems: time and emotional
connection. Children in movies today seem to have been elevated to two
extremes. Either a) the children are always snarky brats and the
teenagers are always angst-filled and misunderstood, or b) the children
are forty year-old hippies from San Francisco. In the case of Cruise’s
daughter, she is a mix between the two. She flips like a light switch
from vegetarian free-spirit with a chiropractor (and probably an
analyst) to insufferable child with screaming spells. In the case of
Cruise’s son Robbie (Chatwin), he is a blend of angst-filled,
mad-at-the-world rebel without a driver’s license to
patriotic-to-a-fault. He goes from being his sister’s sworn protector
to abandoning her to total strangers the second the army comes running.
It could be Spielberg’s attempt at a running commentary on the
corruption of the government on the youth of America, or the dangers of
being overly patriotic when there is major adversity transpiring.
However, I would not give this film that much credit, transparent and
predictable as these elements are. It could be that Spielberg pulled an
M. Night Shyamalan and relied on cheap showiness and typical,
conventional plot and “twist” tactics to churn out yet another hundred
million dollar summer blockbuster. I tend to side with the latter.
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