[img]7|left|||no_popup[/img]Buzz for “G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra” came with news of fans reportedly unhappy about the inclusion of human-enhancing “accelerator suits.” Since the film, much like the series it adapts, is bursting with futuristic military technology that includes mind control, invisibility, nano-technology disintegration and energy weapons, the use of accelerator suits by two characters for a fraction of an action sequence seems like a rather feeble complaint. Such is the nature of fandom. Insofar as the general question of faithfulness goes the double-edge is: G.I. Joe, the movie, is every bit the infantile militaristic fantasy soap-opera of the cartoon series.
The film was directed by Stephen Sommers whose past, certainly more nimble, work on successful fare like “The Mummy” displayed a light heart and infectious enthusiasm. Even less successful ventures like the overstuffed “Van Helsing” touched on the mysterious appeal of the B-movie before finally being cut down by Occam’s Razor. But there is very little of that B-movie bubbliness on display in G.I. Joe, whose heavy-handed action sequences — with their highly kinetic fetish for weapons and gunplay — are written and presented in increasing order of spectacle, which means in increasing order of eye-numbing excess. The despairing loss of feeling in both mind and body from the constant assault of grandiose, yet bloodless, violence is made worse by the propensity of good-guy Joes and corporate terrorists to fight each other to a stalemate or, at best, a miniscule advantage. It’s all about perpetual war and — let’s be honest — perpetual characters that are really stand-ins for toys. Back in the ‘80s, when Hasbro supported both a GI Joe and a Transformers movie, the company mandated killing off large numbers of Transformers to send-off the old toy line and introduce a new set of consumables for kids. An attempt to kill off G.I. Joes was scaled back, given outraged fan backlash to the Transformers animated movie. Still, the merchandising motive is unavoidable, and it comes with the film business equivalent of setting up a sequel and starting a lucrative franchise. Here’s irony: For all that sequels are the preferred target of ire for not living up to their originals, we are increasingly seeing cases of “prologuitis” in which a film exists solely to introduce the main attraction in a subsequent film. J.J. Abram’s Star Trek fits in this category, G.I Joe even more so. It’s as if the filmmakers are burning to tell a particular story but feel it won’t draw audiences in without an elaborate backstory.
A ‘Celebration’ of Extreme Violence
Of course, it’s all there in the subtitle: The Rise of Cobra. But for all the thimbleful of story explaining (eventually) how Cobra Commander became Cobra Commander – because we’re all dying to know – wouldn’t it have been easier to tack on a flashback to a real story? As it is, forget Cobra. What may generously be called a plot involves the man who will eventually become Destro, a weapons merchant unnecessarily portrayed by Christopher Eccleston who sells weapons of mass destruction to NATO while plotting to steal them back for his own world-conquering army. And that is the bulk of the movie, thin even by the lowered standards of the Hollywood action movie. Cobra, for those who care, only comes in at the last moment.
Most galling of all, however, is the film’s utter lack of moral sensitivity – the reason why it is not only easy but necessary to dismiss The Rise of Cobra as a celebration of orgiastic violence rather than a good-hearted adventure. Although Summers and his editor are careful not to show blood or gore, there’s no mistaking that red-headed Scarlett (Nichols), a Joe, essentially blows off her opponent’s head with a high-tech crossbow. The worst comes from a chase scene in Paris that plays out like a demolition derby with attention-deficit disorder. Cars are flipped, blown-up and crashed into; scores of innocents must have been injured or killed in the chase itself, let alone the collapse of the Eiffel Tower. It says something that the villains don’t gloat over the terror and mayhem they have caused. It says even more that the film’s ostensible heroes don’t stop, not for a moment, to consider the collateral damage. With the James Bond reboot “Casino Royale”, my reservation in regards to a generally enjoyable and well-executed film involved Bond’s recklessness in achieving his goals. Repeated viewings of the film, along with “Quantum of Solace,” somewhat altered my perceptions into appreciating that the Daniel Craig incarnation of Bond does indeed exist in a morally self-aware universe. The famous Bond recklessness is not given a free pass. Not so with G.I. Joe, which is infected by the bad character of action movie filmmaking: a preference for explosions and violence over people. The absence of hacked limbs and splattered blood only emphasizes stylized violence as a marketable commodity.
It’s been interesting to read in various forums arguments against film critics who can’t sit back and enjoy a fun movie. Of course, the answer to the question of “what is fun?” is a slippery one. And while perhaps not as common as one might like, there are plenty of action movies that succeed in being entertaining and snappy without insulting viewers’ intelligence with plot holes and sloppy writing or glorified violence. So why should G.I. Joe’s compounded faults be given a pass? The film isn’t entirely unlikeable, though. The relationship between new G.I. Joe recruit Duke (Tatum) and Sienna Miller’s terrorist Baroness, founded on him leaving her at the altar years ago subsequent to a combat-related tragedy, has potential. Marlon Wayans, as Duke’s partner Ripcord, at least gets to have a sense of humour and a flirty relationship with Scarlett. Ray Parks, forever doomed to be concealed behind makeup and masks, gives weight and style to the silent ninja Snake Eyes — or that might just be the snazzy costume. Regardless of these enjoyable bits, the film – despite curiously detached and emotionally vapid flashbacks intended to put flesh on character bones – ultimately doesn’t care about the characters beyond providing them shrink-wrapped excuses for fighting each other, why should anyone else? My advice: don’t look to the underperforming actors for answers.
Entertainment: No stars.
Craft: No stars
Directed by Stephen Sommers. Screenplay by Stuart Beattie, David Elliot and Paul Lovett, based on toys by Hasbro. Starring Channing Tatum, Marlon Wayans, Sienna Miller, Christopher Eccleston, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ray Park, Rachel Nichols, Jonathan Price, Dennis Quaid. 118 minutes. Rated PG-13 for strong sequences of action violence and mayhem throughout.
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