happyreflex

Lars von Trier is a genius when he actually makes a film, as he did with Element of Crime and Europa, two visually stunning films that I absolutely love. But here, von Trier does not so much tell a story as tell a story about people writing a story and then give us all-too-brief segments of that story. If von Trier had just filmed the story about the doctor who tries to cure a plague but instead ends up spreading it, we would have had another masterpiece. Indeed, the segments that tell this story are wonderful. But to get to these gems, which make up perhaps 5 percent of the movie, we have to wade through intolerable stretches of 16mm excrement. Lars and his friend think up this idea, visit this place, talk to Udo Kier, frustrate and infuriate the viewer with impossibly boring stretches of cinema verité. The experience was painful. In fact, I'll deduct some credit for pain and suffering.

9 out of 10 times, when a movie fails, it fails because it does something stupid. Something gets placed into the movie that was never a good idea in the first place. Fortunately, this movie came back in the second act to redeem itself.

It's an idiotic first act that keeps this from being a better film. They never should have added a woman into the cast. She practically screams out, "I wasn't in the novel!" For the whole first act, she gets in the way, bothers people, meddles, does all the stupid and annoying things a stereotypical leading lady would do in a film like this that make us worry that we won't get to see what we want to see. And for what? To fill a role that never needed to be filled in the first place. We need jokes based on the differences between men and women to keep people interested in the movie. After all, we can't expect them to simply be interested in a voyage to the ****ing moon! To top things off, the first act (after the framing device, which I will come to later) thinks this movie is a comedy. The professor is introduced as a funny old eccentric, with tuba music underlining the supposedly funny aspects. For a time in the 50s and 60s, comedy stopped being funny. Tired stereotypes of women, the battle of the sexes, things like that took the place of clever writing. Thank god for French New Wave! Then there's the framing device. Our astronauts, who include representatives from the Soviet Union in a nice bit of forward-thinking, find the evidence of our heroes' adventures on the moon. Then U.N. representatives on Earth seek out our leading man, now many years older. People thought he was crazy, but no, his stories were true all along! Apparently what has endured in print was not good enough for these filmmakers. They couldn't just dive headlong into the story in the year 1899. No, they had to frame it. And then at the end, (skip if you want to find out for yourself,) they shamelessly steal the aliens-killed-by-earth-viruses twist from War of the Worlds.

Now, what the movie does do right is actually provide solidly fun action and adventure when it finally gets to it. Aliens, giant carnivorous caterpillars, fanciful sets in vivid color, men in alien suits, a gray and orange sphere hurtling through space, Ray Harryhausen creations. This is the stuff that dreams are made of! Plus the stupid comedy elements stop completely. This redeems the film after its fatally flawed first act.

There can be no doubt about it: this movie made a conscious attempt to recapture the magic of The Nightmare Before Christmas. But it is a failure. The charm, the charisma, the sprightly feel, the memorable characters, the catchy songs, the very soul is missing.

Victor, the hero, is largely to blame. Or rather, Tim Burton is to blame for writing him. Jack Skellington was a fantastic character. He exuded charisma. Victor is a spineless little wimp. I can't count the times I wanted him to be a man and stick up for himself; to do the obvious things he needed to do to win out. But instead he was a passive vessel for everyone's abuse. He is a terrible heart for this film. And when he enters the world of the dead, his introduction, "Remains Of The Day," finds him constantly freaked out and scared by his strange surroundings. The movie shouts, "This is weird and creepy! Doesn't it make you feel uncomfortable? That means we're doing it right!" But of course, after The Nightmare Before Christmas, this world isn't so weird or unfamiliar. We've seen a similar place before. And a better move would have been to show Victor becoming comfortable in this strange world. Remember how "This Is Halloween" invited you into the macabre and bizarre Halloween Town and made you feel comfortable in that fantastic place? Wasn't that a cool feeling? Wouldn't it have been great if your point of entry to the world of the dead wasn't such a spineless ninny?

And now to another flaw that sinks this film: the songs. It's Danny Elfman, of course, teaming up with Tim Burton in the usual way. But this collaboration doesn't have the magic of the Nightmare Before Christmas score. In fact, it feels totally phoned-in. The opening song, "According to Plan," is such a boring piece of exposition with such un-engaging and workman-like lyrics! "Assuming nothing happens that we don't really know,/That nothing unexpected interferes with the show./And that's why everything, every last little thing,/Every single tiny microscopic little thing must go/According to plan." These are lines for a Greek chorus, not for characters who have names! We see this problem in other songs, like "Remains of the Day" and "Tears to Shed." In The Nightmare Before Christmas, the songs contributed to the flow of the piece. It was comparable to The Wizard of Oz. Here they just slow things down and call attention to themselves.

Sure, it's pretty to look at, but the first consideration, the script, was a weak foundation, and the flaws keep this film below the level of simple goodness, hence 5 out of 10 stars. Perhaps Tim Burton should have had Henry Selick direct again. Certainly he should have had the script rewritten and sent Danny Elfman back to the drawing board. The whole thing is an exercise without passion or inspiration. And not to be a formula nazi, but the film needed a third act. It didn't so much end as stop.