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I’ve had a hard time writing a proper review of Joseph Kosinski’s Oblivion. I’ve
actually started to consider just cutting and pasting reviews of other, better
sci-fi films from other, better critics in a logical order and just calling it a
day, covering my ass under the pretense of “intentional homage.” Why not? That’s
just what Oblivion does.
Not that there’s nothing to recommend about Oblivion. As he proved with his
first feature film,
TR0N: Legacy, Joseph Kosinski has a remarkable eye for
geometric production design, epic scales and negative spaces. It’s a pleasure to
watch the imagery of Oblivion on the big screen, and I suppose I’m glad I did.
If I could write Oblivion off as a painting I’d call it a classic and let that
be that, but unfortunately there‘s a screenplay here as well, and that
screenplay is cobbled from so many familiar sci-fi classics that every single
plot point is clearly visible from a mile away. Or rather, since films move
through time rather than physical space: they are predictable at least half an
hour before they happen.
The story is about the aftermath of an alien invasion, which we only hear about
from two protagonists who had their memory wiped five years ago, and which we
never actually see. One of them, Jack Harper (Tom Cruise), keeps dreaming of a
woman he’s never met, but thinks he loves, and knew decades before he was born,
before the invasion ever happened (an event which, again, we have to take on
faith). The Scavengers are humanoid, have five fingers, and wear gas masks, and
we never a good look at what allegedly makes them alien. Jack and Victoria only
talk to one other person, Sally (Melissa Leo), who speaks in a robotically
enthusiastic cadence, is only seen via video, and always against a nondescript
background.
It’s all well and good for a movie like Oblivion to have a twist, or two, or
three, but when every single plot point comes with a neon sign reading “Be
Suspicious of This” it hardly comes as a surprise. Worse yet, since every twist
plays like an intentional homage to earlier, better science-fiction films,
Oblivion never even gives itself an opportunity to do anything new, or even
approach these old standbys from a fresh perspective. By the time Oblivion
concludes with a mashup of Star Wars, Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey,
Independence Day, Alien, Blade Runner, Moon,
District 9, Predator, it elicits a
shallow sigh, not a satisfying gasp.
And all this would be fine if Oblivion was entertaining. While Tom Cruise lends
his ample charm to the protagonist, and while the image of Morgan Freeman
mounting a turret gun and shooting robots is a novel one, the film is so
emotionally hollow it’s hard to really care what's going on. Oblivion clearly
understands the idea of human emotion – Jack is nostalgic for a time period he
never knew (or did he?), and he’s given a love affair that could very well save
the human race – but it uses these sympathetic situations to foreshadow plot
points, not to explore the characters’ personal connections. The coldness of
Jack and Victoria’s relationship makes sense in proper context. The coldness of
Jack’s relationship with Julia, the woman in his dreams who turns out to be
very, very real, is merely uninvolving.
Oblivion is so brightly polished, so actively sterile, that the little moments
of strangeness – and even artistic failure – that would normally make a movie
feel like it was made by human beings never have a chance to surface. The world
it presents is meant to be displayed, not properly lived in, even by those who,
unlike the protagonists, have no excuse for their lack of humanity. Morgan
Freeman, Nicolaj-Coster Waldau and Zoe Bell (who has no dialogue, no subplot and
no major stunt work but shows up on-screen repeatedly anyway) represent the last
vestiges of the human race, but aside from Coster-Waldau’s distracting choice of
codpiece they demonstrate no personality to speak of. Freeman, normally a
genuine presence in even the lowliest of movies (see: Hard Rain) hardly gets a
line of dialogue that doesn't qualify as exposition. And poor Olga Kurylenko, so
soulful in Terrence Malick’s To the Wonder, only gets to properly emote while
staring at a painting that looks an awful lot like a scene from To the Wonder,
which is probably why she’s so nostalgic.
As an exercise in stark production design and booming sound effects, Oblivion is
a remarkable success. As a movie with aspirations towards deeper meaning, blown
minds and a character or two worth giving a damn about… not so much. It’s cold
and distractingly familiar. Oblivion serves as a great introduction to the
sci-fi genre if you’ve been living in a nuclear fallout shelter since the 1950s.
For those more familiar with the genre, it’s an elaborate sci-fi theme park ride
where you can point out all your favorite cinematic memories without getting
too involved.
Webster’s Dictionary defines “oblivion” as “the condition or state of being
forgotten or unknown.” I wouldn't be surprised if Oblivion soon fulfills the
promise of that title. |
