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Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Independence Day: Resurgence (2016) in Movies
Sep 29, 2021
Why Will Smith is a wise, wise man.
I’m catching up on a few of the big films I missed during 2016. But Roland Emmerich has a lot to answer for with this one. Twenty years after Independence Day smashed the summer box office of 1996, the aliens are back: bigger and badder than ever. Steven Hiller (Will Smith) is no longer on the scene but, to give Emmerich a little credit, he has gathered an impressive array of the original stars to return led by Hiller’s wife Jasmine (Vivica Fox), President Whitmore (Bill Pullman), Dr Okun (Brent Spiner), David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum) and his dad (Judd Hirsch). The great Robert Loggia even turns up, who played the original General Grey, looking like he is about to expire (which unfortunately he did late last year, and the film is in memorial to him). All of them have weathered over the years apart from Judd Hirsch who must have a picture in his attic.
Playing the new generation (Hiller’s young son Dylan and the president’s daughter Patricia) are Jessie Usher and the comely Maika Monroe respectively, the latter having the pout of a young Jessica Alba and showing promise. Rounding off the young ‘uns, and playing an enormously irritating hunk/hero and his sidekick buddy are Jake (Liam Hemsworth – yes, younger brother of Chris) and Floyd (Nicolas Wright). And with the obvious needs of summer blockbusters to appeal to the ravenous Chinese market there is also Shanghai-born Angelababy as a young hotshot pilot and Chin Han as her uncle, moonbase commander Commander Jiang.
It’s hard to know where to start with criticism of this film. It’s like you’ve caught someone desecrating the grave of a dearly departed relative. The plot is ludicrous…. Uh oh…here comes another One Mann’s Movies Showcase Theatre….
The scene: onboard the alien craft high above central Asia
DRONE K’FAALL: “The use of the anti-gravity weapon worked a treat your Majesty. We have ripped up Shanghai and dumped in from a great height on London! Take that Queenie! All hail our weapons superiority! I take it we should just ‘rinse and repeat’ around the world to wipe them all out? ”
QUEEN ALIEN BEE: “No K’Fall. Let’s land in the Atlantic and then go fight them one-on-one with our little ships in the desert near Area 51.”
DRONE K’FALL: “B-b-b-but your Majesty, with our gravity weapon we could eliminate all threat, drill out the earth’s core and find what we came here for in perfect safety!”.
QUEEN ALIEN BEE: “No… that’s just what they’ll be expecting us to do…”
I thought the Oscar for the dumbest aliens of the year was a shoe-in for the ones who chose a similar tactic in “The 5th Wave” – but no… we have another contender for the crown. This ridiculous London-based CGI sequence – a virtual re-shoot of the ridiculous CGI sequence in Emmerich’s “2012” where John Cusack is fleeing by plane a collapsing Los Angeles – is mitigated only by Goldblum’s witty comment about them “Always going for the landmarks” – the best line in the film.
Elsewhere, the story and screenplay – by an army of writers (never a good sign) – is risible and an insult to intelligence, alien or otherwise. The ludicrous plot points go on and on…
Why on earth is the single landed alien craft from 1996 owned by an African warlord? If mankind have ‘benefited’ so much from the alien technology that must surely have been through the UN-dismantling of that ship?
There seems to be no logical connection between the “visions” (stolen from “Close Encounters”) and the alien craft. The visions might have well have been of the alien’s last shopping list (“six cans of Kraag beans; one bottle of Vollufi ale; … “);
The alien craft is big enough to span the WHOLE Atlantic when it lands, but – who would believe it? – comes to a stop with its edge in Washington JUST ENOUGH to dip the White House flag to a jaunty angle. #cringe;
The alien ship – apparently open to the elements – allows our heroic hunks to wander around without spacesuits;
Breathless… or not. Jessie T Usher and Liam Hemsworth (foreground) not dying of asphyxiation or cold.
At one point it looked like our curvaceous heroine was going to defeat the alien queen in good ol’ Wild West fashion armed only with a handgun (but no, my head could come out of my hands again);
And don’t even get me started on the opening “excitement” about propping up a collapsing supergun on the moon with a spaceship. Gerry Anderson would be spinning in his grave.
The dialogue is little better. The original “Independence Day” was probably most famous for two scenes: the impressive destruction of the White House and Bill Paxton’s ludicrously corny “We will not go quietly into the night” speech. Here trying to go one better we have not just one version of this but two with William Fichner’s General Adams chipping one in from the rough before Paxton delivers an impromptu hanger speech that is toe-curlingly excruciating.
Much of the acting is of the “I really don’t want to be here but it’s good for the pension” variety with Paxton and Goldblum going through the motions and Charlotte Gainsborough being horribly miscast as a French anthropologist running around the world on the trail of Pokemon Go characters… or symbols… or something. Only Brent Spiner and Judd Hirsch really get into their stride with likeably over-the-top performances.
Goldblum and Charlotte Gainsborough. A less likely historic romantic attachment its difficult to imagine.
If this was a standalone story it might scrape a double-Fad… but as it so horrendously sullies a classic movie experience it incurs my cinematic wrath. It might have made Roland Emmer-richer (sic)…. but my recommendation would be to get a big bag of popcorn, the original 1996 movie on DVD and enjoy. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Playing the new generation (Hiller’s young son Dylan and the president’s daughter Patricia) are Jessie Usher and the comely Maika Monroe respectively, the latter having the pout of a young Jessica Alba and showing promise. Rounding off the young ‘uns, and playing an enormously irritating hunk/hero and his sidekick buddy are Jake (Liam Hemsworth – yes, younger brother of Chris) and Floyd (Nicolas Wright). And with the obvious needs of summer blockbusters to appeal to the ravenous Chinese market there is also Shanghai-born Angelababy as a young hotshot pilot and Chin Han as her uncle, moonbase commander Commander Jiang.
It’s hard to know where to start with criticism of this film. It’s like you’ve caught someone desecrating the grave of a dearly departed relative. The plot is ludicrous…. Uh oh…here comes another One Mann’s Movies Showcase Theatre….
The scene: onboard the alien craft high above central Asia
DRONE K’FAALL: “The use of the anti-gravity weapon worked a treat your Majesty. We have ripped up Shanghai and dumped in from a great height on London! Take that Queenie! All hail our weapons superiority! I take it we should just ‘rinse and repeat’ around the world to wipe them all out? ”
QUEEN ALIEN BEE: “No K’Fall. Let’s land in the Atlantic and then go fight them one-on-one with our little ships in the desert near Area 51.”
DRONE K’FALL: “B-b-b-but your Majesty, with our gravity weapon we could eliminate all threat, drill out the earth’s core and find what we came here for in perfect safety!”.
QUEEN ALIEN BEE: “No… that’s just what they’ll be expecting us to do…”
I thought the Oscar for the dumbest aliens of the year was a shoe-in for the ones who chose a similar tactic in “The 5th Wave” – but no… we have another contender for the crown. This ridiculous London-based CGI sequence – a virtual re-shoot of the ridiculous CGI sequence in Emmerich’s “2012” where John Cusack is fleeing by plane a collapsing Los Angeles – is mitigated only by Goldblum’s witty comment about them “Always going for the landmarks” – the best line in the film.
Elsewhere, the story and screenplay – by an army of writers (never a good sign) – is risible and an insult to intelligence, alien or otherwise. The ludicrous plot points go on and on…
Why on earth is the single landed alien craft from 1996 owned by an African warlord? If mankind have ‘benefited’ so much from the alien technology that must surely have been through the UN-dismantling of that ship?
There seems to be no logical connection between the “visions” (stolen from “Close Encounters”) and the alien craft. The visions might have well have been of the alien’s last shopping list (“six cans of Kraag beans; one bottle of Vollufi ale; … “);
The alien craft is big enough to span the WHOLE Atlantic when it lands, but – who would believe it? – comes to a stop with its edge in Washington JUST ENOUGH to dip the White House flag to a jaunty angle. #cringe;
The alien ship – apparently open to the elements – allows our heroic hunks to wander around without spacesuits;
Breathless… or not. Jessie T Usher and Liam Hemsworth (foreground) not dying of asphyxiation or cold.
At one point it looked like our curvaceous heroine was going to defeat the alien queen in good ol’ Wild West fashion armed only with a handgun (but no, my head could come out of my hands again);
And don’t even get me started on the opening “excitement” about propping up a collapsing supergun on the moon with a spaceship. Gerry Anderson would be spinning in his grave.
The dialogue is little better. The original “Independence Day” was probably most famous for two scenes: the impressive destruction of the White House and Bill Paxton’s ludicrously corny “We will not go quietly into the night” speech. Here trying to go one better we have not just one version of this but two with William Fichner’s General Adams chipping one in from the rough before Paxton delivers an impromptu hanger speech that is toe-curlingly excruciating.
Much of the acting is of the “I really don’t want to be here but it’s good for the pension” variety with Paxton and Goldblum going through the motions and Charlotte Gainsborough being horribly miscast as a French anthropologist running around the world on the trail of Pokemon Go characters… or symbols… or something. Only Brent Spiner and Judd Hirsch really get into their stride with likeably over-the-top performances.
Goldblum and Charlotte Gainsborough. A less likely historic romantic attachment its difficult to imagine.
If this was a standalone story it might scrape a double-Fad… but as it so horrendously sullies a classic movie experience it incurs my cinematic wrath. It might have made Roland Emmer-richer (sic)…. but my recommendation would be to get a big bag of popcorn, the original 1996 movie on DVD and enjoy. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Ande Thomas (69 KP) rated The Time Traveler's Wife in Books
May 30, 2019
I've been thinking a lot about what I would write about <i>The Time Traveler's Wife,</i> partly because it seems one usually falls into one of two camps: Love it, hate it. It turns out, I belong to the latter. I won't bother with the sci-fi elements, the could he/couldn't he, the exploration of time travel as a plot device - I'm always willing to engage with a story as long as it follows it's own rules. My problems run deeper.
Spoilers abound.
<spoiler>
First, I'd be remiss not to at least acknowledge the creepy factor of a 40 year old naked man befriending a 6 year old girl. It's been discussed ad nauseum, but I've got to put my two cents in.
The whole experience reeks of grooming. Henry shows up, naked, in a young girl's life and (although true) casually explains that he's a <i>time traveler</i>. Her imagination is hooked. Her very own secret Magic Man. Over the following years, their friendship blossoms, and Henry refuses to tell her anything about the future. He is friendly, charming even, and always respectful. But he remains an enigma. Clare is pulled in by the mystery of the Magic Man. All she knows are the dates of his future arrivals. Until one day he begins to break his rule and tell her that they will be together. They'll get married and be in love and have a life. What changed? Why is he suddenly willing to tell her snippets of her future life? Puberty. She admits her desire to be with him and he basically says "keep waiting, it'll happen."
From that moment, her life has been decided - by Henry, and for Henry. Clare spends the entirety of her teenage existence (and beyond) waiting on Henry. The whole of her character arc is basically one big middle finger to the Bechdel test. Henry leads her by a leash with clues and vague promises of the future. We'll be together when you're older (we're destined). We'll have sex on your 18th birthday (wait for me). We'll meet in Chicago (move to Chicago). Even after his dying breath, he subtly slides direction her way. "I hope you move on, but by the way, I'll drop by when you're EIGHTY. But by all means...move on." Is it coincidence that Henry's time traveling mimics an emotionally abusive relationship? Clare tells us, "Henry is an artist of another sort, a disappearing artist. Our life together in this too-small apartment is punctuated by Henry’s small absences. Sometimes he disappears unobtrusively . . . Sometimes it’s frightening." Sure, you say, but he can't help it. He wants to be there for her. <i>It's just the way he is.</i> It's not even hinted at. Multiple people tell Clare <b>to her face</b> that Henry is bad news. But she won't hear it, because he spent her entire childhood molding her into his wife.
The author doesn't hide the allusion to Homer. Rather, she beats us over the head with it. And sure, it makes sense; Clare is the patiently waiting wife, Henry the distant traveler. Even Alba takes up her role as Telemachus, going on her own journeys in search of her father. But do we need both main characters referring to Henry by name, as Odysseus? We get it, girl. You want to write your own romantic Odyssey. Ease up.
Oh, and by the way - Clare's quote above? That's one of her first comments on married life. Her first thoughts after the wedding are "Why is my husband always gone? Why am I always afraid for him?" Henry's first thoughts? "How can Clare listen to Cheap Trick?" Let me remind you that this is the guy who's willing to rattle off a comprehensive list of early punk before jumping up to join in singing a Prince song, but he's upset that his wife listens to The Eagles instead of some obscure as hell French punk band. Also, this man who is thrilled to share musical tastes with a young teen with a mohawk then laments that the kid can't find his own music and has to take his? He preaches the meaning of punk before privately questioning why those kids want to be punk? Here's a guy who's entire life was shaped by music - both of his parents made livings playing music written before they were even born, yet he can't comprehend why two preteens could (or should) like The Clash, or why Clare would like The Beatles. <i>Stay in your own time,</i> he is essentially saying, <i>leave the time traveling to me.</i>
The guy doesn't even realize the pain he causes. Ingrid asks him "Why were you so mean to me?" "Was I," he says, "I didn't want to be." I know, I know. Everyone around her didn't want him to see her or speak to her. But need I remind you - dude time travels and frequently gives himself tips from the future. "Hey pal, take it easy on Ingrid," or "Bro, Ingrid is really shaken up, don't listen to her family or doctor, she needs some closure." But of course, nothing can really change, everything is the way it is.
This is all before I even begin to mention how much Niffenegger LOVES to name-drop. Of course there's the aforementioned punk band name-vomit, mentions of Henry's parents' work can't go by without naming a specific piece, despite adding nothing to the story or our understanding of the characters, there are two separate references to Claude Levi-Strauss (why?), and various other casual mentions of figures that seem to serve no purpose other than to prove that Henry is smart, and knows smart people things.
</spoiler>
I wanted to like this book more, I thought it had a fascinating premise and an interesting perspective. Obviously, I'm not a regular consumer of romance, and I realize that the problems I have with this book are problems shared by a large portion of the genre. But I am positive that we can have a love story that isn't mired by (at best) morally ambiguous relationships. I understand it was a different world when it was published, and that's not directly anyone's fault. Questions of consent and power and respect have been thrust into the spotlight in the short years since this book was published, but that's the lens with which I have to peer through. Stop glorifying these vapid, and frankly, abusive relationships as the paragon of romance. We're better than this. We need to be.
Spoilers abound.
<spoiler>
First, I'd be remiss not to at least acknowledge the creepy factor of a 40 year old naked man befriending a 6 year old girl. It's been discussed ad nauseum, but I've got to put my two cents in.
The whole experience reeks of grooming. Henry shows up, naked, in a young girl's life and (although true) casually explains that he's a <i>time traveler</i>. Her imagination is hooked. Her very own secret Magic Man. Over the following years, their friendship blossoms, and Henry refuses to tell her anything about the future. He is friendly, charming even, and always respectful. But he remains an enigma. Clare is pulled in by the mystery of the Magic Man. All she knows are the dates of his future arrivals. Until one day he begins to break his rule and tell her that they will be together. They'll get married and be in love and have a life. What changed? Why is he suddenly willing to tell her snippets of her future life? Puberty. She admits her desire to be with him and he basically says "keep waiting, it'll happen."
From that moment, her life has been decided - by Henry, and for Henry. Clare spends the entirety of her teenage existence (and beyond) waiting on Henry. The whole of her character arc is basically one big middle finger to the Bechdel test. Henry leads her by a leash with clues and vague promises of the future. We'll be together when you're older (we're destined). We'll have sex on your 18th birthday (wait for me). We'll meet in Chicago (move to Chicago). Even after his dying breath, he subtly slides direction her way. "I hope you move on, but by the way, I'll drop by when you're EIGHTY. But by all means...move on." Is it coincidence that Henry's time traveling mimics an emotionally abusive relationship? Clare tells us, "Henry is an artist of another sort, a disappearing artist. Our life together in this too-small apartment is punctuated by Henry’s small absences. Sometimes he disappears unobtrusively . . . Sometimes it’s frightening." Sure, you say, but he can't help it. He wants to be there for her. <i>It's just the way he is.</i> It's not even hinted at. Multiple people tell Clare <b>to her face</b> that Henry is bad news. But she won't hear it, because he spent her entire childhood molding her into his wife.
The author doesn't hide the allusion to Homer. Rather, she beats us over the head with it. And sure, it makes sense; Clare is the patiently waiting wife, Henry the distant traveler. Even Alba takes up her role as Telemachus, going on her own journeys in search of her father. But do we need both main characters referring to Henry by name, as Odysseus? We get it, girl. You want to write your own romantic Odyssey. Ease up.
Oh, and by the way - Clare's quote above? That's one of her first comments on married life. Her first thoughts after the wedding are "Why is my husband always gone? Why am I always afraid for him?" Henry's first thoughts? "How can Clare listen to Cheap Trick?" Let me remind you that this is the guy who's willing to rattle off a comprehensive list of early punk before jumping up to join in singing a Prince song, but he's upset that his wife listens to The Eagles instead of some obscure as hell French punk band. Also, this man who is thrilled to share musical tastes with a young teen with a mohawk then laments that the kid can't find his own music and has to take his? He preaches the meaning of punk before privately questioning why those kids want to be punk? Here's a guy who's entire life was shaped by music - both of his parents made livings playing music written before they were even born, yet he can't comprehend why two preteens could (or should) like The Clash, or why Clare would like The Beatles. <i>Stay in your own time,</i> he is essentially saying, <i>leave the time traveling to me.</i>
The guy doesn't even realize the pain he causes. Ingrid asks him "Why were you so mean to me?" "Was I," he says, "I didn't want to be." I know, I know. Everyone around her didn't want him to see her or speak to her. But need I remind you - dude time travels and frequently gives himself tips from the future. "Hey pal, take it easy on Ingrid," or "Bro, Ingrid is really shaken up, don't listen to her family or doctor, she needs some closure." But of course, nothing can really change, everything is the way it is.
This is all before I even begin to mention how much Niffenegger LOVES to name-drop. Of course there's the aforementioned punk band name-vomit, mentions of Henry's parents' work can't go by without naming a specific piece, despite adding nothing to the story or our understanding of the characters, there are two separate references to Claude Levi-Strauss (why?), and various other casual mentions of figures that seem to serve no purpose other than to prove that Henry is smart, and knows smart people things.
</spoiler>
I wanted to like this book more, I thought it had a fascinating premise and an interesting perspective. Obviously, I'm not a regular consumer of romance, and I realize that the problems I have with this book are problems shared by a large portion of the genre. But I am positive that we can have a love story that isn't mired by (at best) morally ambiguous relationships. I understand it was a different world when it was published, and that's not directly anyone's fault. Questions of consent and power and respect have been thrust into the spotlight in the short years since this book was published, but that's the lens with which I have to peer through. Stop glorifying these vapid, and frankly, abusive relationships as the paragon of romance. We're better than this. We need to be.