Annihilation

The directorial debut of writer Alex Garland, whose most famous novel is The Beach and whose screenplays include 28 Days Later (and its sequel, 28 Weeks Later), Sunshine, Never Let Me Go, and Dredd, was Ex Machina from three years ago. It was a bold yet subtly eerie look at AI; not quite dystopian, but bordering on it. In his follow-up, Garland has adopted the novel by Jeff VanderMeer called Annihilation. In this story, there again is a "not-good place", called "the Shimmer", a quarantined expanse where creatures mutate, and yet this film is grander and features a lot more big swings. One of them is that Garland is not going to give a lot of answers, and while that may still work fifty years on with something like 2001: A Space Odyssey, it doesn't work here.

It's not as if Annihilation doesn't try. It does often look like Annihilation takes inspiration from the avant-garde 2001 (along with Alien, Jurassic Park, and a touch of Pan's Labyrinth), certainly in terms of visuals. But pretty images do not make up for a lack of story and character development, and they certainly don't, on their own, inspire and excite viewers, or at the very least wake those who are bored out of their mind. Such is the problem with Annihilation.

The movie starts in an ominous way. A character named Lena sits answering questions, not sure of much, especially the whereabouts of her colleagues. She wears white medical clothing, quarantined, being questioned by a character played by Benedict Wong, and she seems totally dazed and confused, unable to recall anything of her nearly four months in the Shimmer. We can deduce that she is the sole survivor. Lena is a cancer professor and former soldier going through grief after the death of her partner, Kane (played by Oscar Isaac), a soldier who has died in a mission she knows little about.

This would certainly make Kane walking into her home even more surprising to her, but that he does. Still, something is certainly off about it. He doesn't feel well, and he is rushed to a hospital after falling into a seizure. Here, Lena meets Dr. Ventress (played by Jennifer Jason Leigh), who tells Lena about the Shimmer, how the scientists have "many theories, few facts" regarding the mysterious entity. Is it religious in nature? Extra-terrestrial? No one knows. Kane was part of team that tried to find out; they failed. He's in good company, as everyone and everything they have sent in to try and discover answers has never returned. Perhaps the environment kills them, or perhaps they go crazy and kill each other. Lena, determined to find an answer to what ails her lover, joins Ventress and other scientists: Anya Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez), Cass Sheppard (Tuva Novotny), and Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson). She pointedly does not tell them about her connection to Kane, fearing it would "complicate" things.     

The Shimmer is like a macabre version of Neverland, a state park with a lush, green forest surrounded by a transparent layer that looks similar to oil mixing with water. Flowers have mutated into gorgeous new species. But almost immediately, the characters start to lose their memories. They've been there for days, and yet they can remember almost nothing. Adding to the Neverland quality is giant crocodiles, but these ones happen to have teeth similar to sharks.

It's a real, real shame that a film with such intriguing female roles for great female actors has turned out so dull. In Ex Machina, women also had a majority of the roles, but it felt exploitative at times. Not so here. Thompson is a real marvel in the movie. Her performance is so unlike her recent work in films like Creed and Thor: Ragnorok. She transforms into this character, a shy but clever individual, not in an ostentatious way, and the subtle choices she's made make her almost unrecognizable. I was a little more disappointed in the performances of Leigh and Rodriguez, who both overdo things, mostly in different ways. Portman is mostly fine, yet her being cast is another example of whitewashing in Hollywood, as the character in the original book series is described as Asian. (Additionally, Leigh's character is described as half-Native American.)

Annihilation certainly requires a lot more patience than Ex Machine does. It's a lot sillier, too. The motivation of Lena's character to go on such a mission is too difficult to believe. Like Sam Neill or Jeff Goldblum before her, it is not plausible for her to accept. This movie is more Prometheus than Alien, and yet it thinks the reverse is true. The characters certainly seem like they're straight out of the former, as they don't feel they need protective masks when walking around the Shimmer. Garland and team try the whole less-is-more approach, and yet it often does not pay off. There are horror moments that are not frightening in the slightest, action scenes that aren't thrilling in the slightest, and the whole thing feels like it would work better as a spooky short story written by someone in middle school.

Is Annihilation pretentious? Most likely. Boring? Definitely. Ultimately, there is not a single exciting or interesting moment throughout this film. Annihilation might challenge you to think, but who would be inspired to engage in such inquiry about a movie like this?

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The Hateful Eight

A vast, snowy landscape is the introduction to the eighth film directed by Quentin Tarantino, The Hateful Eight. Reuniting him with some old pals like Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen, Bruce Dern, Walton Goggins and being joined by Demian Bachir, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Channing Tatum, this is his most violent film in a decade. It is also the first time (not including Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2) that Tarantino has done two films of the same genre back to back. That genre is one that has influenced his entire career: Spaghetti Westerns.

It is unfortunate that the western has fallen from grace around the world, for it was once, as Andre Bazin (the father of the "auteur theory") wrote, that the western is cinema par excellence. Why? Because cinema is movement, and the galloping horses and fights were "usual ingredients" in these films. How ironic it is that Tarantino is the one who might resurrect the genre, for his films are very talky with (for the most part) few fights. Here, the vast majority of The Hateful Eight takes place in a wooden mountain pass in the midst of a terrible blizzard. It's not a tale of morals, as many famous American westerns are, but instead a mystery featuring the most vile, violent humans imaginable. This is appropriate because the Wild West was a horrifyingly violent, despicable time in human history, not some romantic period in which we should strive to return to. Tarantino gets this. He's a director (or, if you must, auteur) who understands that details are important. He is helped enormously in this regard by utilizing a score by legendary composer Ennio Morricone, the 87-year-old musical genius returning to the genre after a 40-year absence. His score here is awesome, helping to immediately set the mood in which our roughly eight or so characters find themselves trapped together.

The first two we meet are Daisy Domergue and John Ruth. Daisy is played by Leigh, and it's one of her very best performances. She's a notorious gang member captured by the bounty hunter Ruth (Russell), a rugged monster with a gravely voice and a John Wayne-like way of speaking. Ruth may be a cruel animal (it's probably Russell's most diabolical role ever), but he's on par with Daisy in viciousness. Ruth is transporting Daisy to a town called Red Rock, where she will be hanged. The trouble is he is trying to outrace a terrible storm. Along the way, he is joined by another bounty hunter, Major Marquis Warren (Jackson), who is also transporting persons (though these ones happen to be dead), and a man claiming to be the sheriff of Red Rock, Chris Mannix (Goggins) joins as well. While Ruth seems to like Warren, Mannix and Daisy are both explicit racists, and they make it known. Speaking of racists, at the mountain pass, the elderly Confederate general Sandy Smithers (Dern) is resting, as is a British hangman named Oswaldo Mobray (Roth), the quiet "cow puncher" Joe Gage (Madsen), and a Mexican employee of the mountain pass named Bob (Bachir). They're all cold characters in a cold world.  

Say what you will about Tarantino, but few other writers can create dialogue like him, and perhaps even fewer directors have such nostalgic love for the traditional looks of classic Hollywood. He and his cinematographer Robert Richardson filmed this in 70 mm, which also is a bit ironic considering there are not a whole lot of landscape shots of rural Wyoming but instead a claustrophobic cabin (though this 70 mm is effective for the close-ups of the eyes, an important feature of Sergio Leone's Spaghetti Westerns). That being said, Tarantino also frequently uses violence that will disturb many viewers; it's not Greek-like and unseen like in Reservoir Dogs. With The Hateful Eight, the violence is quite explicit, and the movie itself is inferior to his previous Western, Django Unchained, and his revisionist World War II drama Inglorious Basterds.

Act Two is when the movie suffers a bit as it falls into a pit of exposition for practically each character; in essence, there is too much telling and not enough showing. This is, for better or worse, the talkiest Tarantino film ever. There is unnecessary repetition of a "comic" scene involving the opening and shutting of the door. After an hour, we finally have all of our characters assembled in this room, and one of the most interesting to watch is Dern's fiery Confederate general and his feud with Warren. Dern is a master of acting and a joy to watch. Madsen is gruff, and yet his scene where he is humiliated by Ruth is actually rather touching. Roth is hyperbolic, but there's a point to it, revealed in the third act. Tarantino rarely (if ever) is political, but when Roth's character tells Warren that slavery "was a long time ago," Tarantino makes it clear that he embraces Black Lives Matter (and that he has been vocal in his criticism of police brutality). Finally, Tarantino's movies are not for everyone. His films have malicious characters spewing loads of vile lexis (for lack of a better word) out of their mouths. Speaking of spewing, there is a particularly memorable scene involving such a literal act, and it demonstrates perhaps Eli Roth's influence over Tarantino's recent works.

Channing Tatum shows up and there's still 45 minutes left in the movie. Indeed, the film sometimes feels more like we're reading a mystery novel than watching a Western. And despite a less interesting second act, the final section of the The Hateful Eight really helps save it, making the film holistically quite a good one. Perhaps one day Tarantino will be thought of as one of the individuals who helped resurrect the Western to excellence.         

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