Okay, here's the deal. I need a little help here, people. I really do. I'm sure you guys have been sitting there, wondering why I've avoided posting my thoughts on a certain movie, that will, for now, remain nameless. It's not because I'm a lazy wag, although I wish it was. It's not because I haven't seen it yet, 'cause I have. But, rather, it's because I saw it, and I wasn't sure if I actually saw it.
Should I explain?
You folks ever been in a conversation, and somebody says something so ridiculous that you're not sure if you actually heard them, right? You ask them to repeat what they just said, and they say again whatever stupid statement they said before, and you still can't believe that someone you considered to be an educated person let those words come out of their mouth, not once, but twice?
Now, if you've experienced this strange little event before, you'll know exactly how I felt after I sat through a little ditty called Wild Wild West.
I've seen squat-rotten movies before, people. I've seen huge stars and huge directors squirt out a movie so incredibly awful they're laughable. Shall we discuss Showgirls? Tupperware is more enthralling. Why waste another moment dwelling on that nonsense when Wild Wild West is here for us to question?
Will Smith and Kevin Kline star as federal agents Jim West and Artemus Gordon, revisiting the TV show personas of Robert Conrad and Ross Martin. West and Gordon are assigned by President Ulysses S. Grant to investigate the mysterious disappearances of a host of scientists. Well, in the course of this investigation, they happen on a plot to assassinate President Grant. It seems a megalomaniacal genius (how novel) has decided to give half the country back to Britain and Spain, and keep the rest for himself. This genius, Dr. Arliss Loveless (Kenneth Branagh) is a wheelchair-bound inventor who lost his lower half, thus rendering him megalomaniacal, I s'pose. Salma Hayak plays the femme fatale Rita.
I'm not going to go further with a plot here, mainly because nobody else associated with this movie did, either.
For lack of a better phrase, this movie is 107 minutes of life that you will never get back. It's like spending 107 minutes of your day locked in an elevator with that instrumental music. It's just gone. Bye. See ya soon. Toodles.
And what gets me most of all is the fact that Barry Sonnenfeld is the director of this movie. I never would've figured that Brother Barry could make a movie this disjointed and ineffective. Not the director of The Addams Family and Men in Black and Get Shorty. I mean, Barry doesn't make bad movies. Until this one, anyway. Technically, it's above average, but, entertainment-wise, it's a washout.
For that matter, though, how do Will Smith and Kevin Kline, two of the better screen stars around, make such an appallingly vacant movie? Both are noted for their energy, their timing, their talent. It's a shame that Will and Kevin didn't feel the need to bring any of these virtues with them to the set. These two look like they've never even met before, much less agreed to team up in a buddy movie. The chemistry here is zilch. Look under every rock and you won't find these two in a scene showing any sort of camaraderie. NO Gibson/Glover comfort zone humor, NO Pesci/DeNiro rapid-fire dialogue, NO Sarandon/Davis bonding, nothing. It's like watching two people who despise one another being forced to be nice to one another.
Branagh is in the same pitiful position as William Hurt in Lost in Space. He's fighting a losing battle for quality, and he knows it, but he's trying his best to keep a stiff upper lip. And, despite being so pleasant to look at, Miss Salma is as lost here as a blind man in a Hall of Mirrors. Eye candy is a nice thing, but in this film it's too little too late.
So, what's left? CGI effects, lots of peachy-keen inventions from the Western version of MacGyver, namely Gordon, and that's about it. Humor, what there is of it, is sketchy at best, and dead at worst. The Sonnenfeld touch is missing, Smith's quick-wit is underused, and Kline is just plain boring.
But wait! There's more! In a particularly freaky decision, mainly in the casting area, the inclusion of Will Smith adds a whole new level to the attempts at humor. Smith is African-American, right? And this movie takes place when? Just after the Civil War. So, what do we get instead of quirky, funny jokes and asides? We get racial humor, most of which would've been borderline tasteless on "Sanford and Son," and much less so here in the '90s. I'm not knocking Smith as an actor; in fact, I think he's one of the funniest and most creative people in movies right now. But being thrust into a Civil War-era comedy is such a bad decision, I can't even begin to rationalize it. I know, I know, he's the King of Summer Movies, but he should've waited for Fall.
If this was supposed to be the BIGGEST THING OF THE SUMMER, as everyone thought it would be, then allow me to introduce you to this year's Godzilla, folks. Industry rumors placed this movie way over budget, and late in the game, Sonnenfeld decided to do a run of reshoots to add more humor. Question -- are those cans of film sitting on a baggage carousel somewhere in Austria? Where did he add anything? And, good gawd, what did he decide needed to change? What did he throw out, if this is the mess that he decided to keep? Remember when every pundit in the world was screaming about Cameron spending the national budget of two Asian countries to make Titanic? And everyone was yelling, "No more high budgets! No more long shoots!" Why did nobody step in and say, "Uh, Barry...this ain't really great stuff, brother. Where's the money going, dude?"
Lock up your wallet, folks. This piece of horse hockey will hit video in November, and at a discounted price. Rent it then for three bucks. Call thirty people, everyone kick in a dime, and watch Wild Wild West then. At ten cents a piece, you might each get your money's worth.
Image copyright Warner Bros.
|
critical condition