[Note:
Spoilers ahead. Swim at your own risk.]
In
imagining Earth’s future, Oblivion (2013) reaches back to the
sci-fi cinema’s past.
This
big-budget summer film stars Tom Cruise as a heroic character, Jack Harper,
caught in a corrupt “future” establishment and coming to learn that reality isn’t
quite what it appears.
Jack
is a drone repairman, or Tech 49, precisely, working out of a luxurious sky-base
over the ruins of Earth following a great war with unseen aliens called “Scavs”
or “Scavengers.” If Jack doesn’t keep
several drones operating constantly, these aliens will return and pulp the giant
fusion reactors which are sucking the world’s oceans dry, and are desperately needed
by man if he is to make an exodus to Titan, Saturn’s moon and begin anew.
Students
of the sci-fi movies of yesteryear will immediately recognize many of the
creative touches in Oblivion. Jack is a hero
not entirely unlike Zed (Sean Connery) in Zardoz (1974) or Logan 5 (Michael
York) in Logan’s Run (1976). He’s
smart and curious enough to recognize the things “wrong” at the edge of his
periphery on 2077A.D post-war Earth, but not quite smart and curious enough to
buck the system…until pushed to do so.
In
diagramming Jack’s journey of self-discovery, Oblivion quotes extensively
from many other films of the same historical period as the examples I noted
above.
Early
in the film, for instance, Jack finds a dark hole leading down into the ruins
of the New York Library, and -- if you’re
old enough -- you may recall James Franciscus making a similar trek into
Under New York in Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970).
There’s a subplot, too, involving cloning that
reminded me of The Clonus Horror (1978).
But
frankly, Oblivion is an equal opportunity “borrower.” It cribs images and themes from the 1980s and
1990s as well as the 1970s. The finale
replays the climactic moments of Independence Day (1996), for
instance, while featuring a subplot about human memory and an “artificial”
romantic relationship that harks back to Total Recall (1990). One
aspect of the plot’s resolution involves a “surprise” straight out of 2009’s Moon.
And
last but not least, Oblivion’s final, explosive confrontation pits Cruise’s Jack
against, essentially, a large-scale version of HAL from Kubrick’s
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), right down to the dulcet mimicry of a “comforting”
human voice recreated by machine, and that famous, glowing red eye.
Thus
the burning question regarding Oblivion remains this one: Does the
film earn all these appropriations, and weave them into something worthy and
meaningful? Does it transform itself
beyond pastiche, and stretch instead…towards transcendence?
Or
is just a collection of ingredients in search of coherence?
The
answers are decidedly mixed.
Certainly,
Oblivion
is dazzling to behold. The vast
majority of the visuals featured here are absolutely astonishing, from the
Mount Olympus-like Station 49 perch with it bubble-like swimming pool, to the “monument(al)destruction” of Earth landmarks like the Empire State Building, and the Statue
of Liberty.
Earth’s
“new,” post-apocalyptic terrain is legitimately incredible to behold and there
is not a moment or instant of phoniness to be pinpointed. I especially enjoyed the shots of a shattered
moon hanging in orbit, a constant reminder of the planet’s devastation.
But
to its detriment, Oblivion doesn’t really trust its audience that much, which -- in fairness -- has probably grown out of
the habit of watching such 1970s dystopian/anti-hero fare. Accordingly, Oblivion spends an
inordinate amount of time focusing on aerial dogfights between Jack’s fighter
plane and automated attack drones instead of its hero’s existential angst. The climactic battle in an abandoned
industrial factory/headquarters that is apparently also a section of the New York
Metropolitan Library (!) is so pro-forma and dull I checked my watch twice
during it.
By
this point in the story, such “action” pyrotechnics are not only unnecessary
and distracting, but an insult to the intelligence. A quick third-act rewrite could have immediately
established that a nuke had to be flown up
manually to the orbiting “Tet” or HAL device, thus necessitating Jack’s
sacrifice. Fifteen minutes of running
time could have been saved, and as I like to remind film students from time to
time, the trick to making a good film -- as simple as it sounds -- is to put
the good stuff closer together, and cut out the stuff that doesn’t work, even
if the stuff that doesn’t work happens to be an expensive action scene.
Similarly,
Oblivion
involves a love story, one that spotlights flashes of Jack’s “wiped” memory
resurfacing in dreams and nightmares. At
the ruined Empire State Building with his true love, Julia (Olga Kurylenko),
Jack recounts his wedding proposal to her there…in another lifetime. The two characters recite the
emotionally-resonant dialogue of that rendezvous, accompanied by evocative
black-and-white images of New York City As
It Once Was. It’s touching and well-done,
no question.
But
then the very next scene shows us the
exact same sequence of events at the Empire State Building except in color,
with the same two characters – and the
audience too – experiencing the proposal a second time.
This
interlude -- conveying a message already laboriously explained and completely
understood -- brings the movie to a grinding halt. Again, a third act rewrite, or even a
judicious post-production edit, would have left the movie with just one of
those proposal scenes, not two in immediate succession.
I wonder, is there anyone out there who didn’t “get it” after the first scene?
I
don’t have anything personal against Tom Cruise and I have certainly enjoyed
his performances over the years in legitimately great sci-fi movies such as Minority
Report (2002) or War of the Worlds (2005)., but his
impressive ripped physique, chiseled good looks and stolid demeanor all tend to
work against Oblivion and the character he plays.
Cruise
is so taciturn and physically dominant a presence that he doesn’t often seem in
real danger, and never seems genuinely surprised or shocked by the revelation
that his life is not what he thinks it is.
This is where I must hark back to Moon (2009), and Sam Rockwell’s
performance.
There,
Rockwell also played a “tech guy” working a boring but mysterious routine for
unseen overlords, and coming to terms with a surprise about his nature…and his
destiny. But he was able to invest the
role with a deeper sense of humanity and surprise. In his eyes, the audience registered disbelief,
regret, anger, and finally defiance.
This
is where “blockbuster” thinking tends to spoil a good science fiction film, and
Oblivion
is truly only a few degrees away from being a good science fiction film.
A
more introspective, more thoughtful, less Adonis-like -- and probably less bankable -- lead actor might have been able to
invest the film with genuine pathos, personality and humanity, and provide the
audience more to hold onto at each step of the journey. With Cruise in the lead role, projecting
little interior personality, the audience simply spends Oblivion’s first hour
waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the narrative’s (predictable) surprise to
be extruded on cue, as though from the auspices of The Industrial Screenwriter-a-tron 3000.(TM)
The
film’s final act, and thus its ultimate meaning, also gets muddled because of
Jack’s true nature. I admire Oblivion
for making the argument that a clone with the same memories can be,
essentially, the same person as the original article. That’s an argument that would not have found
traction, say, in a run-of-the-mill genre actioner like The Sixth Day
(2000).
But
the same clone gambit takes away the magnificence and impact of Jack’s self-sacrifice
to provide -- in another instance of
summer blockbuster-style thinking -- an unreservedly happy ending. This is the Star Trek: Nemesis (2002)
ending all over again.
Sad
that Data died in a blaze of glory to save the Enterprise one last time? Well, we’ve got a ready-made replacement for Data
right here -- down to all his memories -- so you don’t have to grapple with any
sad feelings while you leave the theater.
One
key aspect of the 1970s sci-fi cinema that Oblivion hopes to emulate is,
indeed, downbeat endings. Beneath
the Planet of the Apes wasn’t afraid to kill Taylor (Charlton Heston)
or destroy the Earth. The
Omega Man (1971) also ended with a heroic self-sacrifice. Soylent Green (1973) was even more
down-beat in its final, notorious ending.
Oblivion
wants to nod
and pay tribute to all these dark gems of these 1970s classics, but it doesn’t
earn the same respect because it wants, simultaneously -- and more than
anything else -- to relentlessly crowd-please.
The desire for a successful commercial outcome overpowers the desire to
make real art, or make a real storytelling statement.
What
truly seems missing from the science fiction cinema today is, alas, this idea of
transcendence.
Folks
can pick on and dismiss Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)
all they want, but that was a film that didn’t end with an act of destruction
as the saving grace of mankind, by point of contrast. The aforementioned The Omega Man, too,
concerned the idea of a man transcending
his limitations and experience to achieve something truly timeless and noble
for the planet…even if he couldn’t live to enjoy the fruits of his act.
Oblivion is a movie about a guy doing the
impossible, making that sacrifice and then, miraculously, still getting the
girl of his dreams, a child, and a beautiful house by the lake.
And
by the way, there’s a truly great scene at that house by the lake. Julia tells Jack about the time he told her
about their future together. They would
live in that house, fight and quarrel, grow fat and old…and then die
together. The world would eventually forget
them, but they would be together for a time, and that would be enough.
After
explaining so poignantly and naturally the reality of our human life, it’s a
shame that Oblivion must resort to relentless drone battles and a canned
happy ending. It thus bows to the
exigencies of movie blockbuster nature, not human nature. To make a comparison, it’s as if if Romeo
and Juliet ended, and then suddenly Romeo and Juliet’s clones fell in
love, resumed up the romance, and bought a nice summer house in Verona.
I’ve
read many critics championing Oblivion by lauding the fact that it
isn’t a sequel, a remake or a reboot. In
my opinion, that’s a pretty low standard for praising a movie, even if it is a
great PR tactic. The fact is, the movie
is passable and enjoyable summer entertainment.
But its quality doesn’t go far beyond that threshold.
But
if
Oblivion isn’t a sequel, remake or reboot, is it actually an original…or
a “clone” instead?
John good review and nod to the '70s films that it aspired to be.
ReplyDeleteSGB
I finally got around to seeing this and liked it quite a bit. I'd say, using my own personal rating system, I'd give it a 7/10. But the ending was infuriating. Why oh why must Hollywood tack on happy endings!?!?! It was happy enough that Jack gave himself to save the world...and it meant something. The more I think about the it, the more it makes me less satisfied with the movie overall.
ReplyDelete