“X-Men Origins: Wolverine”: A Glutton for Punishment

In a land where every dinner is a TV dinner and people watch remotely, “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” will mollify the packs of Nielsens swooping down on America’s megaplexes.

But the first movie to christen the blockbuster season is a long 107 minutes of nothing special. With an estimated $150 million budget, the producers have concocted to make a quite unspectacular popcorn flick. When a film is endowed with such a massive expenditure as “Origins: Wolverine” one wonders where the money went when compared to the sardonic rush of “Iron Man” or the fully-realized macrocosm of “The Dark Knight,” because it’s an uninspired project void of the magic of those franchise foundries. Perhaps when you’ve dropped this magnitude of an exorbitant investment into a tepid film, producers are forced to tack on an ambiguous and presumptuous conclusion suggesting a wholly underserved sequel.

Essentially a prologue to the X-Men films, “Origins: Wolverine” begins with the backstory of the Logan/Wolverine character and his brother, Victor Creed/Sabretooth, as children in the 1840s Antebellum South. They bound through successive U.S. wars as indestructible soldiers during the mundane opening credits until they are recruited into a post-Vietnam War commando unit. Adopting distinct military tactics, the brothers become estranged, each hunting the other until the inevitable last reel.

Filmed unconvincingly by director Gavin Hood, it’s an untextured effort with no discernible cohesive tone or pace. Action sequences are neutered by the special effects. The over reliance in post-production fiddling means that real thrills and genuine tension are jettisoned for clunky, newfangled visuals.

The lame script by David Benioff and Skip Woods is equally lackadaisical but there are moments when it’s just plain infantile. As he stalks his lumberjack younger brother in the Canadian Rockies, Victor scrawls with his fingernails into the wooden bar of a dark, unpopulated tavern in the middle of nowhere that for no apparent reason is the size of a jumbo jet hanger. The quizzical bartender asks Victor, “You’re not from around here?” Moments later, when Logan enters the bar, Victor peers over his left shoulder and drawls, “Look what the cat dragged in.” As the brothers race towards each other in the cavernous watering hole and begin to engage in battle, the barkeep peeps up with “Guys, take it outside.”

Burdened by the soporific screenplay, the game cast plows through. Bravely sporting mutton chops throughout history, Liev Schreiber lends Victor hubris with a perverse glint. Danny Huston, looking like a short back and sides Anthony Bourdain after a summer of prix fixe dinners, adds a trenchant interpretation to the commando unit chief, William Stryker, but like his co-stars is encumbered with dopey dialogue. Ryan Reynolds enhances his reputation as a funny fellow with a smart-alec turn as commando Wade Wilson, yet when he returns later in the film as Deadpool, a mutated government project, he is muted with bandages and stitches. (The film hints at the mutant’s irony; just maybe not the one the makers intended.)

Brooding, with trapezius muscles inflating with every swipe of his rapier hands, Hugh Jackman certainly put the requisite hours in the gym. But the character is written so rudimentarily that there’s no connection to his tortured plight. In several instances, Logan expresses himself with a vengeful cry to the heavens as the camera bids a clichéd retreat into the clouds. But at the very least the perpetually tank topped and frequently shirtless Jackman could bring hairy back into vogue. While his charm and charisma are rarely utilized to their best in this film, he has the affable hunkiness to play a part like Thomas Magnum. You can envision a mustached Jackman beaming behind the wheel of a Ferrari. (May I suggest William H. Macy as Higgins.) Again, a big screen presence for small screen tastes.

“The Dark Knight”: Super Freaky

As summer blockbusters churn out a succession of candy floss confectionary seemingly best viewed through 3-D glasses, “The Dark Knight” is storytelling so obsidian theaters should hand out night vision goggles. 

Complex and enthralling, “Dark Knight” is a conundrum as it’s an action film which is most successful in its murkier, contemplative, quieter moments.   Blessed with an intelligent script from director Christopher Nolan and his brother Jonathan, the film delivers a challenging, engrossing story with a multitude of conflicted, complex characters.  “The Dark Knight” also feels more violent than it actually is because Nolan expertly generates the tension of anticipated violence. He masterly fills an audience with palpable expectation.

While the film is infused with an emotional potency, the action scenes are less than rousing.  Car chases are discombobulated and prone to excessive use of CGI.  The fight sequences are chaotic and hard to follow. Compared to the superlative choreography of the “Bourne” films, the hand-to-hand combat in “The Dark Knight” is clunky, frenzied yet underwhelming.

The casting is spot on and while the ensemble as a whole is commendable, any discussion of the cast begins with Heath Ledger’s titanic performance as The Joker.  While the buzz regarding his performance smelled like a promotional media blitz, the actuality is that Heath Ledger is damn good. He’s truly intimidating with both nuance and subtlety in abundance, especially in a sensational interrogation scene. He even makes the rudimentary phone call request both comic and desperate. It’s a staggering performance that is transfixing and further demonstrates that Jack Nicholson has been coasting for almost a quarter century.

The rest of the main cast is strong as well.  Christian Bale is a pillar as the titular character.  Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman lend gravitas to parts which they could have performed on cruise control. Maggie Gyllenhaal as Rachel, the sought-after love interest, provides ample evidence that Katie Holmes was a crucial misstep in “Batman Begins.“ Aaron Eckhart’s transformation from district attorney to villain is believable and strong.  It’s not only his jaw line which denotes leading man status.  And while you expect Gary Oldman to prick up his ears and go buck wild, he’s restrained and genuine instead of distracting and flowery.  The appearances of Eric Roberts, Anthony Michael Hall and Tiny Lister are fun, in a trivia-night sort of way.

Nolan has collected an impressive body of work during the past decade.  You sense he has the ability to develop the type of versatility of a director such as Ang Lee.  Perhaps Nolan could tackle a comedy, but given his penchant for darker tones it wouldn‘t be surprising if it was titled “Pineapple Depress.”

“The Dark Knight” is not rollicking fun like “Iron Man,” which could be coined, “Kitsch, Kitsch, Bam, Bam.”  But if one enjoys their comic-book noir etched with a graphite pen, then this “Batman” is an intelligent, moody blockbuster not readily available at the multiplex.