The Day the Earth St– oh, fuck it

So, I just watched The Day The Earth Stood Still, starring everybody’s favourite mannequin, Keanu Reeves. Since this film sees him portraying an alien with no concept of human emotion or dialogue beyond monotone – basically the strapline at the top of Keanu’s CV – I thought that this might actually be one occasion where his arborial acting would enhance the film, rather than drag it down. Woah. Was I wrong.

While I could do my usual verbose spiel about how the film fails on so many levels that it demands incredibly lengthy criticism, I genuinely believe that a review of this film need only consist of two words: stunningly inept. With emphasis on the ‘stunningly’.

And the ‘inept’.

While Jennifer Connelly is, as always, insanely beautiful and the only reason to watch this abortion of a remake, it came as something of a disappointment that she, uh, lasted through the entire movie with all of her clothes intact. One simple, well-shot shower scene would have gone a long way towards rescuing this detritus; but perhaps it’s a little generous to suppose that any welcome addition could have much improved this movie miscarriage. And this isn’t just me being crude for the sake of being crude, like the ‘abortion’ reference above – the description fits the bill. The movie really does feel like it could have been well conceived; but it just utterly fails in its delivery.

The kicker? The film’s message is essentially a modern take on the 1951 original. Whilst the original was a firm admonition of the dangers of a (then seemingly likely) nuclear holocaust, this remake attempts to shift the context to more clear and relevant dangers for the contemporary audience: global warming, and to an extent, the depressing commercialism of humanity and our rather irritating habit of screwing whatever’s in the way in order to further our own, selfish aims. An admirable doctrine, though the concept is utterly destroyed by the fact that there are clear and constant product placement opportunities taken at every turn.

One of the very first things we see is Will Smith’s bratty, over-acting little shit playing World of Warcraft on his laptop, and from then on you’re basically on for anal rape by advertisement: Microsoft logos the size of dinner plates, mobile phones that are switched off yet still feature an oversized LG logo plastered across the screen, an entire 10-minute scene pointlessly taking place inside and around the environs of a McDonald’s, and everybody wears Citizen watches with wisp-like hands yet ogre-sized logos. Is this the director’s delicious sense of irony, trying to make us realise that the very things that the movie seems to be promoting are the things so wrong with our race? Of course not. Surprise surprise, it’s an effort to make money out of something that is clearly of no value.

As if over-zealous commercialism wasn’t enough for as all to tire of the way America tends to do things, I was equally exasperated to note that the stereotype of the hugely arrogant, wildly xenophobic, trigger happy Yank is strictly adhered to by every single character besides the two leads.

The alien lifeform arrives on Earth (conveniently landing right in Central Park, because aliens are irritatingly prone to only revealing themselves to American citizens), and before we even get more than a glimpse of what it looks like or what its intentions are, somebody shoots it. Nobody asks who took the shot, or why – the repercussions are skipped in favour of the “well, somebody had to shoot it” reasoning that makes up the very backbone of recent American foreign policy. Within minutes of conversing with the alien and realising that its mission is chiefly diplomatic, American strategists decide to sedate it, to interrogate it and move it to a more secure facility (why is there always a ‘more secure facility’ in movies like these?). Utterly surprised that the alien then decides to escape, from then on everybody in the movie is singularly hell-bent on hunting Keanu down and killing him. Even when their most destructive power has absolutely no effect, they still think that constantly threatening him with ineffective weaponry is still the best way forward.

Not only does this movie further stereotypes – one of my very many pet hates – but it also furthers the ever-fatigued movie cliché of having the misunderstood lead (supported, of course, by a renegade scientist) being continually chased by police, soldiers, helicopters and humm-vees. Naturally, all the while that’s happening, any kind of plot exposition or – dare I say it – any kind of elaboration on what Keanu actually is or where he’s from (an idea conveniently shelved early on with the facile, patronising explanation “it would only scare you”) is ignored in favour of bloom-ridden CG of big shiny orbs.

John Cleese might as well have not been in the movie at all – which in itself is a pretty tragic thing to say about, well, anything.

I’m just glad that I didn’t have to part with any of my hard-earned money to watch such full-on inane Hollywood retardation – though it’s more saddening than usual to say that I will never ever get those 90 minutes back. I never thought I’d say this, but this movie makes War of the Worlds seem like a competent remake.

Oh, whoops. Looks like I’ve gone and done what I was trying to avoid.

Here.

Stunningly inept. Avoid.