December 26, 2006
|
Makes Future Sport look like milk from the teat of God.As an unabashed fan of mindless action flicks and brainless kung fu movies, I can sit through just about anything you set in front of me, including those pointless Steven Seagal vehicles from the past five years or so. In fact, I can probably stomach more bad B-movies than most hardcore movie-goers ever could, though I doubt that's something I should brag about. It's not as if I can't appreciate or identify a well-crafted motion picture, mind you; there are plenty of top-notch titles in my collection that are worshipped by uppity film snobs the world over. However, unlike them, I won't hesitate to spend countless hours with subpar cinematic endeavors that will ultimately call my taste into question.
That said, John McTiernan's 2002 turkey Rollerball really pushed its luck with me. A remake of the 1975 James Caan flick of the same name, the film finds its heroes -- namely Chris Klein, LL Cool J, and Rebecca Romijn -- competing in a European sport that's essentially a glossier version of American roller derby without the nifty 70's garb. Everything is kosher, that is, until a seedy television producer (Jean Reno) discovers that violence equals ratings and decides to amp up his broadcast with various forms of brutality at the expense of the players. Naturally, the stars of the game aren't too thrilled with getting viciously kicked around, resulting in a full-on revolt. Chaos ensues. The end.
How do you play Rollerball? I'm glad you asked. You see, one player grabs the shiny metallic ball after its been launched into circulation, traverses the obstacle-strewn court while avoiding the other team, and tosses the ball into a goal in order to score points. That person's teammates, meanwhile, try to keep the opposing team from stealing the ball, a feat that incorporates the use of motorcycles and lots of pushing and shoving. A tad confusing, yes, but it's not that difficult to follow if you pay attention.
I'm a pretty big fan of McTiernan's work -- Die Hard, Predator, and The 13th Warrior in particular -- so my decision to investigate this universally-panned production was based on his previous track record alone, critics be damned. Perhaps I should have taken their advice for once in my life. Rollerball is a loud, disjointed debacle, one that asks the audience to swallow all sorts of bogus concepts over the source of 100 minutes. For instance, who in their right mind thought Chris Klein would be a marvelous action hero? The guy has as much charisma and screen presence as a malignant brain tumor. What about LL Cool J as an accountant-turn-pro athlete? Did anyone believe that one? And last but not least is Rebecca Romijn, an actress who manages to get high-profile gigs despite a severe lack of talent. Sure, she's got a nice figure and a bright smile, but if she can't deliver a line to save her life, what's the point? None of these individuals are believeable in their respective roles, leaving you with absolutely no one to root for. Insert nail in coffin here.
Oh, and let's not forget Jean Reno. You can actually feel the cold steel of the gun pressed against his forehead as he sleepwalks through the picture. I don't know what they had on you, Mr. Reno, but it must have been a doozy if they roped you into this one. Then again, this is the guy who willingly co-starred in the Americanized Godzilla, so perhaps he's just a little slow. I can't say for sure.
Of course, I'm willing to overlook poor casting and weak performances if the film itself is somewhat entertaining. Unfortunately, Rollerball gets everything wrong. Everything. McTiernan's direction is downright pitiful, an embarrassment of nuclear proportions. His decision to include an extended night vision sequence literally boggles the mind, especially when you consider the fact that none of the characters are wearing the appropriate goggles. It was a purely stylistic choice, I guess, and a very poor one at that. And the editing? Yikes. I've seen better hack jobs in a developmentally-challenged kindergarten art class. Cutting away every two seconds is okay if you know what you're doing. With Rollerball, the excessive edits often cause scenes to become needlessly confusing; trying to follow the action without succumbing to seizures is a true test of endurance. And patience.
So what did this disaster get right, you ask? Nudity. Lots and lots of gratuitous nudity. In fact, I don't think I've seen that many pointless breast shots in a major Hollywood production since the 80's. Thanks, McTiernan! You're one of the few directors who can actually make a beautiful unclothed woman completely unattractive. That takes talent, my friend. True talent.
What have we learned from this very important lesson, dear readers? Rollerball stinks straight to its poorly-conceived core. It's the type of film that makes you wonder what kind of mind-altering drugs are circulating through Hollywood offices these days. I refuse to believe that the executive producers felt confident enough to release this abomination without the use of hardcore narcotics, the kind that can kill an adult elephant in two seconds flat. This is the type of motion picture that savagely murders careers. While Chris Klein, LL Cool J, and that chick who used to bang John Stamos won't have anything to worry about, McTiernan better hire a career coach/muse post-haste. His follow-up to this fiasco, the 2003 John Travolta/Sam Jackson thriller Basic, was a decent enough effort, I suppose, but it doesn't even come close to the films he made during his prime. Will the guy ever get his train back on track? Who knows? As of this writing, he's got two pictures in development, so I guess there is life after Rollberball.
Let's hope he makes the best of it.
0 Spasms:
Post a Comment