Category: Sam Neill

THE COMMUTER

By Marc S. Sanders

Sometimes it gets boring to have your suspension of disbelief tested with a movie.  Especially if it is a movie where there’s that eye in the sky that can see everything the hero does, thereby making his dilemma that much harder.  Downright impossible, actually.

You know what I mean when I say eye in the sky?  That’s where the villain or the antagonist can see everything the hero attempts to do to save the day, and every time he tries something like making a cell phone call or writing a secret message on a piece of paper (hidden next to his thigh under the table) for someone else to see, the bad guy always knows what he’s doing. It’s a wonder if the protagonist can even take a leak in private.

In The Commuter, Liam Neeson plays a former New York cop, now insurance salesman, who takes his morning and afternoon train from upstate into the city and then back after work.  Everyday, it’s the same regulars on the train while Neeson’s character, Michael MacCauley, reads the classic literature books that his son is assigned to cover for school.  I guess it’s the way they bond, and it’s pretty fortunate that this is Mike’s hobby because on the day he gets fired from his job, it might come in handy.  Go figure.  These bad guys messed with the wrong avid reader.  I mean he’s reading The Grapes Of Wrath for heaven’s sake.

Just before Mike enters the train, his wallet and cell phone are pickpocketed.  He defeatedly slumps down in his seat and shortly after an alluring woman named Joanna played by Vera Farmiga sits across from him and proposes a hypothetical.  Find twenty-five thousand in cash hidden somewhere in the bathroom.  Then seek out a passenger who identifies as Prynne and swipe the bag that person is holding.  Once that is done, he’ll collect an additional seventy-five thousand, but it must be done before the train reaches the Cold Spring station.  Joanna leaves the train making the offer sound so simple.

Considering Mike just lost his job and he’s got no cash savings as well as his son’s college tuition to pay for, he retrieves the hidden money and tries to make a clean getaway at the next stop.  However, he’s immediately halted by someone who gives him an envelope with his wife’s wedding ring in it.  Now, he knows this woman and whoever else is setting him up with his wife and son in possible danger.

As he finds a way to communicate with Joanna by phone, Mike tests just how serious she and her cohorts are, and that’s when a couple of people wind up dead.  Ultimately, the only way out of this conundrum is for Mike to find out which passenger is Prynne.

Much of the running time of The Commuter is occupied with red herrings.  Could Prynne be the punk girl with the nose ring (Florence Pugh)?  Is it the asshole Investment Banker with the phone earpiece?  Maybe it’s the guy all dressed in black?  Or the one with the guitar case?  Yeah.  It could be any one of these folks who Mike does not recognize as regular travelers.  I won’t even tell you if any of the people are the real Prynne or not, but I knew what to expect from this kind of storytelling pattern.  Mike finds a way to small talk some of them and seek out clues.  He uses the conductors by explaining that he sees something suspicious and suggests they look in their parcels.  At times, I felt like I was playing the Clue or Guess Who?  or Twenty Questions.  I dunno.  This kind of set up for a movie just seems too silly.

Sixty-year-old Mike also engages in hand-to-hand fist fights with some suspects.  I don’t know how old Liam Neeson is, but Mike says he’s sixty, and sixty-year-old Mike endures getting his head bashed through more than one speeding train window, plus a couple of knife slashes and some ass kickings, in his pursuit for the truth.  I know.  He’s a cop so he’s got fighting skills.  That’s okay.  I buy that, but to have your head bashed through doubled paned windows while this commuter train is going a hundred miles an hour? Well, that’s enough stretching for one day.

So how does Joanna stay one step ahead of Mike to ensure he’s playing by the rules?  Well, apparently there are cameras positioned in the overhead vents of every train car that can follow his every move.  C’mon now!  I’d rather the writers and director simply turn this into a sci fi cheapo and declare the villain omnipotent.  This train is at least six cars long.  Maybe seven, and the length of each one is maybe five yards if I’m being conservative, and I’m supposed to believe that these cameras cover every nook and cranny of every single train car?  Seriously, stop stretching.  You’re bound to pull something.

I stayed with The Commuter until the end because frankly I was curious who Prynne turned out to be and what the significance of this particular passenger was to the interests of Joanna. It actually works.  It’s Mike’s convenience in detective work and the powers operating against him that’s ridiculous. 

Moreover, the visuals are incredibly distracting in this picture.  The CGI could not be more apparent anytime Liam Neeson throws a punch or takes one across the chin or out a broken window.  The animation of the CGI appears terribly false.  It looks unfinished and rushed for editing as Neeson’s facial expressions of pain and struggle contort in odd ways.  The bad guys he gets into fisticuffs with appear to have the same problem.  Truly some of the worst action scenes I can remember watching in quite some time. 

The speed of the train looks false as well.  I read where Liam Neeson said that the settings within the train cars were shot on a soundstage.  Afterwards, director Juame Collet-Serra was challenged with changing the outdoor scenery of the train on a constant basis to simulate ongoing speed and movement.  I imagine this is all incredibly challenging.  I don’t know how to do it.  However, it just does not work.

The visuals for most of The Commuter fail tremendously.  Last year’s most recent installment of Mission: Impossible demonstrated how a speeding train should look in an action picture.  With this movie though, the finalized print was rushed for that all so busy January release in 2018.  Look, if you can’t do it right, then let somebody else handle the job, or better yet, make a better movie.

The Commuter would have been a much better and much shorter film had Mike never let his curiosity overtake him and go to the bathroom for that money.  Mike, why couldn’t you just stay in your seat and finish reading your Steinbeck?

JURASSIC PARK III

By Marc S. Sanders

Jurassic Park III.  What’s to say?  Well not much.  The third film in the dino franchise plays like an extension of the first two.  Sam Neill is brought back as paleontologist, Dr. Alan Grant.  Sadly, the rest of the cast is terrible.  Yet, the dinosaurs remain marvelous.

Following an opening sequence parasailing adventure gone wrong, an enormously wealthy couple, the Kirbys (William H Macy, Tea Leoni), recruit Dr. Grant and his apprentice Billy (Alessandro Nivola) for a vacation excursion to the restricted island of Ilsa Sorna as a twentieth anniversary celebration for them to see the exotic, resurrected animals.  Grant and Billy are to be their tour guides.  The offer is too good for the doctor to refuse and off they go. Once on the island, the mayhem we’ve all grown accustomed to commences.

The intelligence of the Jurassic films only comes from one source, and that is the special effects makers of these animals.  The attention to detail in skin texture, eye movement, teeth, roars, claws, limbs and facial expressions are sensational.  You truly believe these are actual living creatures.  These wizards reinvent themselves with a new dinosaur known as the Spinosaurus.  Bigger than a T-Rex and at least as fast as the velociraptors.  This is a BEAST!!!!!! 

Director Joe Johnston takes the director chair from Steven Spielberg. While the magic is lacking this time around in some of the thrills and scares, at least the new director has some fun with a couple of gags.  A cell phone (the new novel household item at the time of this film’s release) plays for some laughs, especially when the Spinosaurus appears on the scene.  There’s also a magnificent sequence in the Pteranodon bird cage.  Love the Pteranodons.  Finally, we get to see the winged dinosaurs in action as they lift the various members of the cast into the air with their claws and snap their beaks for a couple of nips.  There’s a great close up of one Pteranodon that is one for the ages.  He turns his sinister head over his shoulder towards the camera with a “Wanna fuck with me?” expression.  It’s like it was modeled off of Robert DeNiro.  Great stuff.

Raptors are back, and while we may have seen all of this before, I don’t get tired of it.  It’s like seeing a thrilling car chase for the fiftieth time.  As long I’m thrilled, I guess I’m satisfied.  Nevertheless, being that this is the third chapter, I was hoping for something more with some insight in the film.

My colleague, Miguel Rodriguez, notes that this installment as well as the prior one serves merely as amusement park fun rides.  All true.  I think I’ve backed that up here.  However, there are so many unexplored elements within the franchise originally conceived by novelist Michael Crichton.  For example, there’s the secret scientific research and development company known as InGen – the party responsible for discovering how to resurrect dinosaurs in the modern age.  Three movies in, and we’ve barely gotten to know InGen.  I think it’s time we do.  There’s gotta be a CEO at the top who is twirling his mustache amid his or her dominance.  That would really play for some good storytelling.  At best, in all three films to this point, we just get the InGen logo printed on the side of some motorized vehicles and laboratory doors. 

Much like the Alien franchise (with Weyland-Yutani), these puppet masters are never fully realized.  One of the three (THREE????) co-writers of Jurassic Park III is director/writer Alexander Payne (Election, About Schmidt).  With a genius mind like that couldn’t we have been treated to something that had more depth than just jaws, beaks, teeth, claws and roars?  What we are left with is an annoying William H Macy (one of his worst career roles) and an even worse Tea Leoni (feels like I’m watching Chrissy from Three’s Company) as the Kirbys.  They quickly provide a twist to their purpose in the movie.  It’s a dumb twist.  It’s hard to believe a doctorate mind like Alan Grant is supposed to have never seen this unexpected turn of events coming and it takes up space where the writers could have spent time bringing more back story to the Jurassic Park universe.  Crichton lined it all up!  Why didn’t the filmmakers pounce on these golden ideas?

That’s all there is to say.  Jurassic Park III is a popcorn movie.  Nothing else.  It’s only just a somewhat satisfying popcorn movie, though.  You miss the Spielberg touch, and you wish for just a little more dimension.  You don’t get it, but you do get the “don’t fuck with me” attitude of a nasty looking Pteranodon.  That alone is worth ninety minutes of your time.

JURASSIC PARK

By Marc S. Sanders

Michael Crichton’s best-selling novel, Jurassic Park, is my favorite book of all time.  I recall reading it in one Friday night a week before the Steven Spielberg adaptation was released in theaters.  It was the easiest book to breeze through and I never stopped thinking about Crichton’s approach to a what if scenario where dinosaurs are resurrected in the name of scientific discovery and profitability.  Ideas related to chaos theory and DNA experimentation were considered against the mayhem of people running for their lives in an amusement park attraction.  Amid the action, there was opportunity to think and consider.  Spielberg’s film doesn’t offer enough time for ponderance.  It starts out that way, but it doesn’t finish its thought.  That’s always been a hinderance for me.

There’s no question regarding the immense thrills the film brings, even thirty years later.  Effects and puppeteer wiz Stan Winston (how I wish he hadn’t passed away so soon) outdid himself following memorable recreations from films like Aliens and Predator.  The centerpiece of the blockbuster is of course the T-Rex.  Spielberg follows his age-old approach of not showing the monster right away, though high publicity and massive merchandising of the early 1990s never kept this cat in the bag anyway.  Oh well!  Yet, when the humungous, twenty-ton dinosaur puppet makes its grand entrance midway through the film, it still holds as a spectacular scene, especially because two fine child actors (Ariana Richards, Joseph Mazzello) with high pitched screams heighten the terror.  Look, you should know by now.  If Steven Spielberg is aiming for the rafters of box office thrills, he’s gonna put the kids in danger first and foremost.

Velociraptors are the other big stars of this creature feature and the behavior of these CGI animals is magnificent as we observe them communicate with one another.  Like the T-Rex, we don’t get an immediate first glance of them either, but their squeals and screeches as they leap in for a monster mash smorgasbord get us to jump in our seats.  When the veil is lifted on these guys, Spielberg and his effects crew go further by granting them with quick agility.  Before all this, we are told by the science experts of how they are strategic pack hunters with cheetah like speed and how they tear away at flesh as they pounce on live prey.  You wince as you imagine.  They are also smart too.  These dogs can open doors! 

Again, all good stuff here.

The best character is the sarcastic mathematician, Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum), who insists resurrecting dinosaurs is a terrible idea for the modern age.  Goldblum is so good with the script written by David Koepp that my favorite scene in the picture is when the main characters sit around the dinner table to discuss what has surprisingly been thrust upon them.  I yearned for more scenes like this.  Ian Malcolm offers up a new iteration of “Matt Hooper” (Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws) that I just didn’t get enough of.  Only the surface is scratched on the argument of intelligence versus stupidity.  In Jaws, we got nearly a full hour of this welcome back and forth.

What lacks is what Jaws provided over a decade earlier.  The debates of how to live (or die) with dangerous animals begins, but doesn’t finish in Jurassic Park.  It merely gets started, and then the argument gets abandoned to allow for unending carnage.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love carnage in my movies.  However, Crichton illustrated an even amount of attention to chaos blended with intelligence (or ignorant lack thereof) when he wrote his book.  I got a textbook education from Michael Crichton.  From Steven Spielberg and David Koepp, I just got a thin dog eared comic book.

Goldblum is third in line in the cast credits behind Sam Neill and Laura Dern as Alan Grant, a paleontologist, and Ellie Satler, a paleobotanist.  They, along with Malcolm, are cordially invited by billionaire entrepreneur John Hammond (Richard Attenborough) to visit his private island that is soon to be converted into Jurassic Park, a zoo/amusement park consisting of live dinosaur attractions.  The dinner sets up the debate of Hammond versus the three scientists.  Is anyone being responsible with the potential to act upon breakthrough discoveries?

Granted, if Hollywood was going to make a dinosaur movie, then it was going to be catered to children age 10 and up.  Kids and families of four or more sell tickets.  The novel doesn’t aim towards that demographic, however.  It is darker and the Hammond character is more sinister and greedier.  He’s not a fleshed-out villain in the film.  He’s lovable.  The film simplifies itself too much as it devolves into a run and chase and chew and chomp adventure of screams and outstanding John Williams music.

I watch the film over and over again because visually it remains magnificent, but I still remind myself that it is not enough.  Steven Spielberg’s film is admired and so well regarded and perhaps it is deserving of its legacy, thirty years, five sequel films and a couple of Universal Studios attractions later.  On the other hand, I wish it allowed its brain to develop a little bit more. 

Steven Spielberg’s interpretation of Jurassic Park could’ve been as smart as a velociraptor.

THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

By Marc S. Sanders

John McTiernan’s adaptation of Tom Clancy’s first bestselling novel, The Hunt For Red October, might seem dated but it’s still a crackling good thriller. It’s one of those films where you truly feel like you’re walking through the secretive hallways of DC government buildings with their elevators accessed only by an Admiral’s key. Soon you’re in a dark, underground boardroom. You’re also there on the various naval crafts and submarines with alarming lights, shiny steel and glowing monitors. The biggest treat is being in the command center of the titled sub, Russia’s Red October, commanded by their captain, Marko Ramius (Sean Connery). All in all, Terence Marsh built a convincing production design.

Clancy’s story takes a different approach than most thrillers involving Cold War politics. Ramius might have been a James Bond villain in another film as he hijacks Red October, but there’s more to him actually. Rather, Ramius wants to defect to the United States. Most of his command crew is in agreement as well. America doesn’t necessarily see it that way; a Russian, missile equipped submarine quickly approaching the eastern seaboard with other subs following him?!?!?!? Let’s not polish the tea set so quickly.

Fortunately, one man had the pleasure of meeting Ramius once and doing extensive research on the General’s background; Jack Ryan (appropriately cast with a young Alec Baldwin). Ryan is given three days to catch up to Ramius and guide him safely to the United States while avoiding getting the famed submarine shot down by either power nation.

I must point out my favorite scene and it actually takes place in that secret boardroom where it dawns on Ryan of Ramius’ true plan. Baldwin is great here. The young guy who is green when it comes to military and political protocol. McTiernan gets his company of generals and high ranking officials into a large quarrel over what to do and then he zooms in on Baldwin thinking for the close up before he calls Ramius a SON OF A BITCH. It’s at this moment, that the movie going consensus and fans of Clancy overall determined that Alec Baldwin was the best of the cinematic Jack Ryans. (No slight to Harrison Ford, who was too middle aged for the role when he took the part).

Connery at least has the commanding appearance of Ramius’ stellar reputation. He is not very exciting or charismatic. Then again, I don’t think Clancy built the character that way. Connery plays the role as silent, yet wise and experienced as implied by his well groomed, white beard and hairpiece plus his square stature. If this man is standing in your presence, you better give him an update. You shouldn’t have to ask if he wants one.

Good moments are made available to Scott Glenn, James Earl Jones, Sam Neill and Stellan Skaarsgard as well. It is the talking scenes among all these fabulous actors that really build tension. The underwater scenes…not so much. The subs look like long, black blobs weaving their way through depths and avoiding missiles coming their way. It’s forgivable because McTiernan always keeps the characters at play. This isn’t a film that relies on the dog fights depicted in Top Gun or Star Wars. McTiernan keeps his audience away from drowning in the underwater murkiness.

The makers of this yarn really are a great combination of imagination. We got Tom Clancy and John McTiernan to thank for a gripping tale from 1990 that still holds up today. The Hunt For Red October is definitely a film worth revisiting.