You know something? I'm starting to think that a
terrible movies are in some ways preferable to almost good ones just
because when a film is an utterly misbegotten trainwreck that was
never going to work it was at least not disappointing. I'm so tired
of disappointing, of your Man Of Steels and your Amazing
Spider-Mans.
Okay,
examples, trainwreck first. M. Night Shayamalan's The Last
Airbender was never going to be
a good movie and I'm not even bashing Shayamalan here. He picked an
unwinnable battle, there's no two ways about it. Any given criticism
of the film as made, in retrospect, provokes little more reaction
from me than “Well, duh.”.
I really mean that. I hate the film with a fiery passion
but there are so few practical ways in which it could be improved
given the restrictions of its production. The film is too
short to cover the whole first season's plot, yes, but it was
targeted at children so there were limits to how long it could be.
The characters are anaemic compared to the TV versions but again we
hit the runtime problem and the fact Avatar tended to slip
character development as b-plots in larger stories. Its stupid that
Earthbenders POWs find a quarry inescapable but the sea-platform from
the show would have a huge expense in an already pricey movie. The
“racebending” of Aang and the Fire Nation characters was dumb
since Hollywood is hardly hurting for actors of Asian (especially
Japanese) descent but some racebending was inevitable as there's just
not a huge base of teenage Inuit actors to cast Sokka and Katara
from.
I'm
not saying this makes The Last Airbender
better, it remains a bloody awful movie: its still too short; the
characters are still pale imitations of the originals (Sokka
especially), the quarry scene is idiotic and very easily read as
racist; and whitewashing every character who wasn't a villain... how
does someone even make a decision that idiotic?
Still,
that it couldn't work is oddly comforting. I wasn't cheated out of a
good Last Airbender
film because no such film could exist, which brings us to the other
side of the coin: the almost acceptable, the almost good. Ladies and
gentlemen, I present to you: David Lynch's Dune.
Now,
admittedly, this isn't a film that often gets called “almost good”.
In general I've found opinions divide into two camps: you've either
read Frank Herbert's Dune
and think this movie misses every point going or you haven't read the
original novel and find a 1980s sci-fi movie of varying levels of
acceptable. I'm in camp number one, I love Herbert's work and I think
Lynch took a great cast and a great design team and butchered the
damn thing. Princess Irulan is reduced to a voiceover at the
beginning, a walk on at the end and basically nothing else whilst in
the book she's a fantastically important character and her eventual
meeting with Paul should have so much more weight than it does.
But,
my God, is the film beautiful. I think in terms of writing, the 2000
miniseries was a million miles ahead of Lynch but the theoretical
perfect, Platonic Dune
adaptation, in my opinion, is the 2000 writing team working for
Lynch's designers.
The
same actually goes for Man Of Steel,
my recent favourite punching bag, which has absolutely fantastic
visual design, great fight sequences and gorgeously shot set pieces.
What it doesn't have is a screenplay that has any sense of who
Superman is and what he's for; the tone is all over the place; Clark
Kent has no discernible character arc which left me more invested in
Jor-El and Guardian; David Goyer was having a Green Lantern
day instead of a Blade II
day when he wrote the dialogue; and the film seems to think its theme
is interrogating our fear of outsiders but never gives anyone any
reason to trust Clark. However, most every moment of physical
direction is damn near perfect aside from that washed out colour
palette DC films contracted during the Dark Knight trilogy and now
seems incurable.
My perfect, Platonic Superman movie? Well, one that
looks like that but has some damn sense of identity, to be perfectly
honest.
Now, academically there's real value in looking at how
these various pieces fail at their goals but from the point of view
of an £11 ticket and an hour's walk to the cinema there's more to
resent than with something I was dragged to thinking it couldn't
work.
And,
of course, with straight-up terrible sometimes history is kind and we
get kitsch acts of insanity like Night of the Lepus,
a horror movie about giant bunnies menacing the American mid-west.
That's a film that could never, ever work to the point that I
actually know people who dismissed seeing it as a fever dream or the
consequence of accidental opiate exposure (well, they say
“accidental”). Point is you can laugh at bad. Sure, with The
Last Airbender my feelings were
more akin to detached horror than amusement at what had been done to
the source material but it wasn't the continuous cycle of becoming
invested in the visuals and the action but being drawn out by the
dialogue and narrative I felt with Man Of Steel.