-By Frank Lovece
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DC Comics'
Green Lantern, along with the Flash, the Atom and
Hawkman, were the four primary superheroes that ushered in the
"Silver Age of Comic Books," reinvigorating the World War II-era
character archetype into something sleek and streamlined for the
space age. Yet where the upstart Marvel Comics would take this
archetype into the 1960s with antiestablishment insouciance and
irreverence—its vaunted "superheroes in the real world" approach—DC
saw itself as a publisher of children's literature, and the
company's bland stories and dialogue often rang no truer than those
of 1950s mental-hygiene classroom films.
That tradition holds true in the generic superhero movie
Green
Lantern. Rote characters go through the motions of stock
motivations, devoid of any real personality, quirks or wit. The
hero lives in the shadow of his late, valiant father. The villain
resents his successful father, who is disappointed in his son. The
love interest scolds the hero, mother-like, urging him to live up
to his potential. The hero gets a superpower, the guy in the drill
sergeant role calls him a washout who will never live up to
such-and-such and what did so-and-so ever see in him. The hero runs
from his new responsibilities until some über-threat directly
affects those he loves. And somehow, through his simple, Everyman
pluck, he proves himself perhaps the greatest of the
yadda-yaddas...
In that respect, casting Ryan Reynolds as cocky but dad-damaged
test pilot Hal Jordan/Green Lantern was an apt choice. Despite a
gift for fratboy farce in
National Lampoon's Van Wilder, a poignant braggadocio in
Adventureland and a believably colored range of terror
in
Buried, he nonetheless projects little depth in any of
his roles (never more true than in his breakout film, 2009's
The Proposal). In interviews, he seems like the nicest
guy in the world, and that does come through onscreen. But here
he's a shallow Hal, and while that may be in keeping with the late
1959/early 1960s comics, it really doesn't play today. Blake Lively
is equally "Eh?" as Carol Ferris, a fellow test pilot who also
manages her father's (Jay O. Sanders) aircraft manufacturing
company.
To be fair, the actors have little to work with—you can see Tim
Robbins trying in vain to squeeze whatever history and humanity he
can out of his character, an oily senator who gets his surprisingly
ungrateful son, professor Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard), what
you would think would be any scientist's dream gig: analyzing the
first extraterrestrial (Temuera Morrison) found on Earth. Poor
Angela Bassett gets only a walk-on role as a government
scientist—and in her brief time onscreen gives a more dimensional
and shaded performance than leading-lady Lively.
The recent
Thor, based on the mythology-mashing Marvel character,
likewise divided its time between CGI cosmic realms and Earth, with
the outer-space scenes likewise hampered by a videogame-graphics
look. Yet where
Thor managed to eke out a grandeur and a
solid sense of place that transcended its technical limitations
(state-of-the-art I'm sure, but still….),
Green Lantern's
Oa, home of the Green Lantern Corps of intergalactic peacekeepers,
is a perpetually dark, cratered hellhole that's hardly the epitome
of enlightenment it presumably represents. Jordan's interactions
there with humanoid head Green Lantern Sinestro (Mark Strong) and
CGI alien trainers Kilowog (voice of Michael Clarke Duncan) and
Tomar-Re (voice of Geoffrey Rush) feel rushed and
insubstantial.
That also holds true back on Earth, where Hammond has become a
big-brained telepathic/telekinetic villain—dividing and diffusing
bad-guy duties with the evil cloud-octopus Parallax (voice of
Clancy Brown), giving short shrift to each. The circa-1980s visual
effects of the latter, who terrorizes unconvincing Godzilla-crowds
of extras, feels particularly offhand, as if the four writers it
took to make this mess couldn't come up with anything more specific
than "Space Blob."
For the record, the Alec Guinness-soundalike narrator goes
uncredited. There's also an extra scene—not post-credits, but
mid-credits—in which a character who goes bad in the comics goes
bad here, but in a way that's completely unmotivated by anything
we've seen in the movie.
The first line of this review was revised on June 28, 2011, to
include a fourth DC superhero, the Atom.
Film Review: Green Lantern
Generic superhero movie, assembled with off-the-shelf narrative components and no authentic soul or emotion. Green Lantern is colorless.
June 16, 2011
-By Frank Lovece
DC Comics'
Green Lantern, along with the Flash, the Atom and Hawkman, were the four primary superheroes that ushered in the "Silver Age of Comic Books," reinvigorating the World War II-era character archetype into something sleek and streamlined for the space age. Yet where the upstart Marvel Comics would take this archetype into the 1960s with antiestablishment insouciance and irreverence—its vaunted "superheroes in the real world" approach—DC saw itself as a publisher of children's literature, and the company's bland stories and dialogue often rang no truer than those of 1950s mental-hygiene classroom films.
That tradition holds true in the generic superhero movie
Green Lantern. Rote characters go through the motions of stock motivations, devoid of any real personality, quirks or wit. The hero lives in the shadow of his late, valiant father. The villain resents his successful father, who is disappointed in his son. The love interest scolds the hero, mother-like, urging him to live up to his potential. The hero gets a superpower, the guy in the drill sergeant role calls him a washout who will never live up to such-and-such and what did so-and-so ever see in him. The hero runs from his new responsibilities until some über-threat directly affects those he loves. And somehow, through his simple, Everyman pluck, he proves himself perhaps the greatest of the yadda-yaddas...
In that respect, casting Ryan Reynolds as cocky but dad-damaged test pilot Hal Jordan/Green Lantern was an apt choice. Despite a gift for fratboy farce in
National Lampoon's Van Wilder, a poignant braggadocio in
Adventureland and a believably colored range of terror in
Buried, he nonetheless projects little depth in any of his roles (never more true than in his breakout film, 2009's
The Proposal). In interviews, he seems like the nicest guy in the world, and that does come through onscreen. But here he's a shallow Hal, and while that may be in keeping with the late 1959/early 1960s comics, it really doesn't play today. Blake Lively is equally "Eh?" as Carol Ferris, a fellow test pilot who also manages her father's (Jay O. Sanders) aircraft manufacturing company.
To be fair, the actors have little to work with—you can see Tim Robbins trying in vain to squeeze whatever history and humanity he can out of his character, an oily senator who gets his surprisingly ungrateful son, professor Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard), what you would think would be any scientist's dream gig: analyzing the first extraterrestrial (Temuera Morrison) found on Earth. Poor Angela Bassett gets only a walk-on role as a government scientist—and in her brief time onscreen gives a more dimensional and shaded performance than leading-lady Lively.
The recent
Thor, based on the mythology-mashing Marvel character, likewise divided its time between CGI cosmic realms and Earth, with the outer-space scenes likewise hampered by a videogame-graphics look. Yet where
Thor managed to eke out a grandeur and a solid sense of place that transcended its technical limitations (state-of-the-art I'm sure, but still….),
Green Lantern's Oa, home of the Green Lantern Corps of intergalactic peacekeepers, is a perpetually dark, cratered hellhole that's hardly the epitome of enlightenment it presumably represents. Jordan's interactions there with humanoid head Green Lantern Sinestro (Mark Strong) and CGI alien trainers Kilowog (voice of Michael Clarke Duncan) and Tomar-Re (voice of Geoffrey Rush) feel rushed and insubstantial.
That also holds true back on Earth, where Hammond has become a big-brained telepathic/telekinetic villain—dividing and diffusing bad-guy duties with the evil cloud-octopus Parallax (voice of Clancy Brown), giving short shrift to each. The circa-1980s visual effects of the latter, who terrorizes unconvincing Godzilla-crowds of extras, feels particularly offhand, as if the four writers it took to make this mess couldn't come up with anything more specific than "Space Blob."
For the record, the Alec Guinness-soundalike narrator goes uncredited. There's also an extra scene—not post-credits, but mid-credits—in which a character who goes bad in the comics goes bad here, but in a way that's completely unmotivated by anything we've seen in the movie.
The first line of this review was revised on June 28, 2011, to include a fourth DC superhero, the Atom.