Director: Peter Jackson
Runtime: 161 minutes
Many argue that The Two Towers, the second of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, is the strongest film in an outstanding cinematic trio. Middle installments come burdened with moving pieces and are unable to finish with a bang. At least, they're not allowed to finish with as big of a bang as the final entry, which gets the benefit of wrapping it all up. The Two Towers, however, overcame that by creating its own epic ending, yet still making it clear the obstacles that lay ahead in The Return of the King. It was a spectacle having its cake and eating it too, in the very best way. That same success, sadly, is nowhere to be found in The Desolation of Smaug, Peter Jackson's middle chapter of this three-part adaptation of Tolkien's The Hobbit. Instead, it's the film that many likely feared Jackson's original trilogy would be: bloated, emotionally hollow, and suffocated by visual effects.
Whatever flaws one can find with last year's An Unexpected Journey (and there are many), that at least had a proper beginning. Desolation kicks off with an unnecessary flashback to dole out catch-up details, and then hits the ground running. Unfortunately, the film's feet are made of glass. The mix of hand-crafted and computer-generated sets and models is even more glaringly obvious than in Part I, which breaks the spell immediately. While certain VFX shots in the original trilogy no doubt look a tad dated by now, they at least still have a lived-in, tactile feel. By contrast, the blend of CGI and reality is amateurish at best, with the lighting for the green screens casting a hazy glow over an unfortunate number of scenes. The vaseline on the lens look has been put to great use before (Casablanca is still stunning), but here it just looks cheap, and even unfinished.
More disappointing is how much Jackson's storytelling skills have dropped in quality. The plotting is agonizingly drawn-out, yet what little character exists is often rushed. Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage, handsome even underneath the make up), is a compelling figure, yet this time around he only has one note to play. The supporting band of dwarves, meanwhile, often feel interchangeable. Like excessive characters in a horror movie, they exist merely to fill the frame when the action kicks in. And while Jackson and his co-writers deserve credit for creating a badass female elf warrior (Evangeline Lilly's Tauriel), they also stick her in a totally bloodless pseudo-love triangle that drags things down even further. Even Bilbo (Martin Freeman), our supposed guide and protagonist, feels like an afterthought until the finale.
Thankfully, after all of the build up, Jackson does hit a home run when he reaches the super-sized climax. The villainous dragon Smaug (Benedict Cumberbatch), is stunning. Both the visual effects and Cumberbatch's performance are excellent, and together they create the single best thing about an otherwise misguided pair of adaptations. Even the story's several cutaways to other matters (the elves, the townsfolk near Smaug's mountain lair, Gandalf - remember him?) can't throw off the thrill once the dragon takes center stage. The varied set pieces Jackson wrings out of the encounter are excellent. Smaug is rendered so well that even the lackluster work on the backdrops finally stops being a bother.
But then the "ending" comes crashing in and ruins the fun of it all. We still have another full length film to wrap this all up (one that originally wasn't supposed to exist). Jackson and company more than deliver with the titular dragon (and there is a lot of material with him), yet the final cut to black is a rude reminder of just how much this adaptation has been dragged out. It's the worst sort of fan service, trying to give every moment of the (quite slim) novel its due, and then throwing in a bunch of other nonsense to fill in the gaps. You're better off buying a ticket and then finding something to do for an hour and a half. That way, you'll skip nearly all of the narrative fat, and only enjoy the good stuff. Best to sully your cinematic memories of Middle Earth as little as possible.
Grade: C-
Director: Edgar Wright
Runtime: 109 minutes
It's easy to make a spoof of a particular genre. There are lists of horror cliches that are routinely mocked by writers, comedians, bloggers, and even other movies. Yet it takes a special sort of love and craftsmanship to create a send-up that also functions as a legitimate genre film. Edgar Wright has made this the defining strength of his career. Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz satirize the zombie and buddy cop genres, respectively, but the ace in the hole is Wright's ability to make a better zombie and buddy cop movie than most of those he's poking fun at. The same remains true, albeit to a lesser extent, for his final chapter in his trilogy of genre send-ups, The World's End.
Wright's co-writer, Simon Pegg, is once again the lead. As Gary King, Pegg is an immature, roguish lad whose best days are far behind him. He's quick on his feet and always a hoot to watch, but his Peter Pan complex is starting to wear thin around his friends. While Gary still rocks his punk-ish rings and rides around in his car from high school, his circle of friends have left him behind for adult life. Determined to reconnect and relive his glory days, Gary ropes his friends into visiting their hometown to complete the Golden Mile: drinking a pint at twelve different pubs, culminating at the titular establishment.
However, like Hot Fuzz, the small town of The World's End is hiding a dark secret. But where Wright's cop comedy used that secret to further his plot, here he uses it to introduce a different genre. Genre mashups can deliver inspired results, but The World's End's mix of buddy comedy and alien invasion thriller makes it Wright's least elegant film to date. The shaggy charm, best exemplified by Pegg's character, is still there, but it all feels in service of a story that's constantly being pulled in opposite directions.
That's not to say that The World's End is without its considerable pleasures. Wright's directing is as vibrant as ever, and his knack for fight scenes - even those shot largely in tight close ups - is once again put to great effect. And even as Wright and Pegg's script reveals its structural faults, it also delivers some truly outstanding comedy. Frequent collaborator Nick Frost (cast, for once, in a straight man role) leads the supporting roster, filled out by Martin Freeman, Paddy Considine, Eddie Marsan, and Rosamund Pike. When the lads (and lady) are together, bickering and reminiscing, The World's End feels the most comfortable in its own skin.
Pegg, however, is the one who really takes hold of the spotlight. In a drastic detour from his previous collaborations with Wright, Pegg is the one character who is an absolute wreck. The best he can hope for, hence his determination to complete the Golden Mile, is to complete a high school fantasy, as though it will somehow solve his problems. Once the film rolls into its (surprisingly action-free) climax, Pegg is given the most emotional material in any of Wright's work to date, and he succeeds with flying colors. For all of the clumsiness of the plotting, Wright and company never lose sight of the story's humanity.
Though once Wright takes us through the poignant and hilarious finale, he tacks on an epilogue that feels ripped from a completely different genre spoof. It's in those final minutes that The World's End moves from being awkward to totally overstuffed. In wrapping up the loose group of films known as The Cornetto Trilogy, Wright and Pegg seemingly felt the need to really go big or go home. The better strategy might have simply been to make a fourth film. The World's End, for all of its heartfelt hilarity, is ultimately kept from greatness because it tries to take on too much for its own good. Like the Golden Mile, The World's End is a riotously enjoyable experience, but by the time you reach the end, you've simply had more than you can handle.
Grade: B
Director: Peter Jackson
Runtime: 169 minutes
The source material for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey may not have the darkness, depth, or length of Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, but that certainly hasn't stopped Peter Jackson from trying to repeat the same success from a decade ago. An Unexpected Journey marks the first of three (originally two) films based on Tolkien's lighter, slimmer novel. Is the three film to one book ratio a cash driven gambit? Most likely. It allows Jackson and company to flesh out and explore more of Tolkien's world and characters, to be sure, but at what cost to the storytelling quality? Yet ultimately, though this first installment never reaches the heights of Jackson's last journey into Middle Earth, An Unexpected Journey, warts and all, stands as proof that there's no one better suited to take audiences through Tolkien's universe.
Though decidedly lighter in tone, the film still possesses the trademark Tolkinean grandeur. This is best evidenced in a flashback/prologue sequence detailing the history of the great Dwarven stronghold of Erebor, and how it fell after an attack by the vicious dragon Smaug (to be voiced by Sherlock star Benedict Cumberbatch in the rest of the trilogy). With the dwarves scattered, some find leadership in the grandson of the deposed king, Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage). Time passes, and eventually a small band of Dwarves under Thorin's command decide that the time is right to try and reclaim Erebor from Smaug, who has remained dormant. With the help of their ally Gandalf the Grey (Ian McKellan, as effortlessly compelling always), they find their way to the home of Bilbo Baggins (played by the other Sherlock star, Martin Freeman).
Initially upset by the bawdy Dwarvish ensemble mucking about in his kitchen, Bilbo eventually succumbs to the promise for an adventure, one that Gandalf promises will leave him forever changed (if he survives, that is). And once Jackson finally gets Bilbo on his way and the fellowship of the Dwarves begin their long (long, long) trek to The Lonely Mountain, An Unexpected Journey finally develops a sense of purpose. The opening stretches of the film are - Dwarven backstory aside - the weakest, as the reinforce the idea that this three film enterprise is nothing but shameless indulgence. Rather than simply settle in to the fall of Erebor, Jackson inserts a completely unnecessary framing device involving the old Bilbo (Ian Holm) writing down his tale, which is little more than an excuse for an Elijah Wood cameo.
The opening also introduces us to one of the film's other shortcomings, albeit on the technical front. This is Tolkien in the age of digital cameras, and even without seeing the film in 48 frames per second, there were times when the difference was palpable. Most jarring are some of the visual effects. Gone, for the most part, is the use of miniatures and models to create epic cities and structures. Complete CGI is often king here, and coupled with the digital camera technology it can produce some displeasing aesthetic effects. Most notable is in the the Fall of Erebor, where the entire flashback sequence possesses a strange, faded glow, as if someone smeared a jumbo-sized jar of Vaseline on the camera lens. Elsewhere, the blend of sets and CGI backdrops is often too saturated and smooth to register with the same artistic majesty that so bolstered the Rings trilogy.
Despite the occasionally distracting aesthetics, An Unexpected Journey does, thankfully, improve as it goes along. Not all of its side ventures (some of which are designed to create tie-ins to Rings) are as compelling as others. The bits involving Radagast the Brown and his sled pulled by Olympic-speed rabbits, for example, feel too cartoon-y and broad. Yet, on the other hand, when Jackson rekindles that old magic from 10 years ago, it connects. A flashback involving a failed Dwarven siege of the Mines of Moria is well-handled, and establishes Armitage's Thorin as a compelling equivalent of Viggo Mortensen's Aragorn. Later set pieces also come through, including a sequence where the troupe finds itself riding on the ridges of several gargantuan stone giants in the midst of a battle.
Yet the film's shining moment comes without the slightest bit of violence or spectacle. Bilbo, separated from Gandalf and the Dwarves, stumbles upon a tiny golden ring, as well as its deranged owner, Smeagol/Gollum (Andy Serkis). Serkis is as good in the role as he's ever been, manic mood swings and all, and his game of riddles with Bilbo is the film's high point. Coupled with the big action sequence/chase and the surprisingly chill-inducing final confrontation involving Thorin and an Orc lord, and you have a film that truly reaches its purpose in its last third or so.
Even when the film falters, however, Jackson's grasp of the world remains strong, and his performers are plenty engaging, even if some of the Dwarven band blend together. Freeman makes a wonderful Bilbo, the odd man out among a group of people with a goal more personal than he can ever know. Returning cast members McKellan, Cate Blanchett, Hugo Weaving, and Christopher Lee are nail their material, as limited as some of it is. Yet it is Armitage who emerges as the most compelling figure of the bunch. Unlike Aragorn, who was almost dragged into fulfilling his role as king of Gondor, Thorin starts the story with a purpose, one tied to both duty and pride. Jackson's indulgences with flashbacks may throw some off, but those concerning Thorin do at least give a concrete sense of what this protracted journey means to him.
When all is said and done, it might be difficult to fully judge An Unexpected Journey until parts two and three (Dec. 2013 and July 2014, respectively) arrive, and we can step back and view Jackson's entire treatment. Until then, we're left with this first slice of a story that, for better and for worse, has been inflated in an attempt to match the glory that the director and his collaborators achieved a decade ago. For the sake of audiences everywhere, I wish them the best of luck.
Grade: B-
