2008| Director and Writer: Clark Gregg (Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

It was damn near 10 years ago that a young college freshman looking forward to studying medicine took a Friday night off and went to the movies. The movie was “Fight Club” from Director David Fincher. It was dark and funny and offbeat and everything that an 18-year-old hopelessly hopeless kid wants from his entertainment. It was also based on a book from an up-and-coming author Chuck Palahniuk. Flash-forward to September 12^th 2001, where said “kid” is on a bus trip in a newly confused and frightened United States of America with Radiohead’s “O.K. Computer” and Palahniuk’s newest book “Choke” as the only thing to keep his mind at ease.

Needless to say the kid was me and when I got to school after that bus ride my brief flirtation with a career in medicine was over.

Now, years later, “Choke” is a movie staring the ever likable/unlikable Sam Rockwell (”Confessions of a Dangerous Mind,” “Matchstick Men”) as protagonist Victor Mancini. We learn that, as a child, Victor was taken by his crazy mother and spent most of his childhood on the road and on the run. As such he never learned to feel love. Now a loser approaching middle age, Victor’s plight is that he is a sex addict. The sex angle is really the gimmick of “Choke,” an offbeat comedy–or beat-off comedy if you will.

Between the crazy road-trips with Mommy and the sex addiction, Victor also aspired to study medicine, but like so many others, didn’t quite make it. He uses his mother–and specifically the cost of her treatment in a mental care facility, where her years of reckless drug abuse are quickly bringing her to the twilight of her life–as an excuse for never having completed med school and moved on with his life. So Victor and his friend and fellow sex addict Denny (a fan of Mastodon) waste their time working at some 17^th Century historical theme park.

Many of the modern comedies by people like Judd Apatow and Jody Hill deal with an emotionally stunted man/boy getting into hijinks and screwing around, literally as well as figuratively. Usually the result is the delight of an audience who must suspend their disbelief of the contrivances of the plot as well as their own sense of good judgment. This is fine in a comedy and in this sense “Choke” is no different. There are brief moments of seriousness that some might read as pretense but the film does not linger on or belabor these parts in any sort of way that bothers me.

In terms of execution the film is appropriately rough in its look and simplistic shooting style. It was shot by director of photography Tim Orr, who has worked with David Gordon Green and Jody Hill on most of their past projects, and as such it has a similar look. In terms of performances, Rockwell does what he does best by playing a creep, and Angelica Huston (”Ice Pirates,” “The Royal Tenenbaums”) is also good in the sort-of-dual role as a crazy kidnapping mother and older dementia-ridden mental patient. The film has some moments that some might find disturbing, but in this it is on the level of something like Trainspotting. At 92 minutes it is the sort of movie that shouldn’t kill your entire evening, though I don’t recommend it as a date movie.

 

Three stars  of Five Stars

Director: Harold Ramis (”Groundhog Day”) | Writers: Harold Ramis and Gene Stupnitsky & Lee Eisenberg (”The Office” [American version--TV])

"I just figured this would be straight to DVD, so what's the worst that could happen?

Some films just don’t feel like anyone tried.  That effect can be born by design; in certain dramas or horror films a laid-back approach can pay off with disarming or unsettling conclusions that result from specific audience expectations. But then there are movies like “Year One,” in which the lackadaisical performances from the actors and the crew indicate either a deep loathing for the material or fervent drug use during production. The subsequent mess, a lazy “History of the World, Part 1”-esque take on Old Testament stories, has scant moments of dialogue-based levity, but delivered with such underwhelming indifference by its talent that it’s a wonder a single laugh escapes the comedic black hole onscreen.

"No, I heard them talking about it near the craft service table. It's definitely going to straight to DVD. You have nothing to worry about."

With such comic stars as Jack Black, Michael Cera, and hallowed director Harold Ramis onboard, “Year One” should have been a sharp, acerbic satire fraught with the kind of absurdist humor that comes with historic figures speaking in the parlance of our times. Instead, the audience is showered with filmic offal in the form of a trite story of two semi-lovable losers (Black and Cera) forced from their hunter-gatherer community and into a half-hearted attempt to rescue the girls of their dreams, played by two dull nobodies, from being sacrificed to the gods by ancient Sodomites (citizens of the city of Sodom, specifically). Along the way they run into Cain (David Cross) and Abel, Abraham (Hank Azaria) and Isaac, and a handful of other anachronistic and unfunny characters.

Ramis decides, while hard at work on set, not to go straight to DVD

Aside from a handful of decent lines given to Cross and Azaria, the script falls flat in no small part due to sadly typical portrayals by Black and Cera, who play a “Jack Black”-type and a “Michael Cera”-type, respectively. But even their decided ambivalence is surpassed by that of Ramis, whose camera seems to be nodding off in the more mundane moments, and then hurrying to catch up with the leads as they trudge off toward their next horrifyingly humorless misadventure. Ramis the director might deserve a pass, but Ramis the writer should know better. I wasn’t expecting something as good as Ramis’ own screenplay for “National Lampoon’s Animal House,” but I had hoped at least that “Year One” might have been as funny as, say, “Lord of the Flies.” That’ll teach me to dream.

Rating: One of Five Stars

2009 | Director: Michael Bay (”Armageddon”) | Writers: Roberto Orci & Alex Kurtzman (”Mission: Impossible III”) and Ehren Kruger (”The Ring”)

A subtle moment from the third act

If “Gremlins 2” were a two-and-a-half-hour-long car commercial, it would closely resemble “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen,” which fills the screen with enough sight gags, quasi-comedic characters, and candy-colored vehicles to cause the viewer to suffer an occasional seizure or four while watching this sequel. The difference is that “Gremlins 2” was a loving homage to Chuck Jones-style cartoon comedy, resplendent in its mayhem, while “Fallen” is only in love with its own butt-kicking bombast. Its narcissism is partially warranted, however; with a good 45 minutes and 20 or so characters cut from its substantial margins, it would have been the mindlessly endearing popcorn film it imagines itself to be.

Bay, enjoying his excesses

Two years after the events of the first “Transformers” joint, “Fallen” finds Sam (Shia LaBeouf) on his way to college while trying to hold together his unbelievable relationship with the mind-blowing Mikaela (Megan Fox, playing by far the most attractive, inappropriately-dressed mechanic in the history of the world). But when a remnant of the AllSpark fills his simple brain with ancient robot hieroglyphics and junk, Decepticons universe-wide scramble to find Sam, in order to extract the information from his mind, in order to resurrect the evil Megatron, in order to get an even eviler old robot named The Fallen back to Earth, in order to turn on some prehistoric Sun-killing machine, in order to mine all the planet’s Energon—and heck, to murder all humans for good measure. Luckily, Optimus Prime and all your favorite new GM automobiles, available for sale at any almost-bankrupt domestic car dealership near you, are there to protect mankind.

One of the hideous women who populate the typical Michael Bay film, in traditional mechanic garb

As with any Michael Bay film, “Fallen” suffers from a severe case of bloating, with countless actors with clichéd character arcs fighting for screen time with CGI robots voiced by even more actors. (One imagines last year’s potential SAG strike was averted when Bay and producer Steven Spielberg hired half of Hollywood to work on this film.) The plot is so muddled with major storylines that it’s nearly impossible to keep everything straight, and needless subplots come and go every five minutes just to introduce a new potential action figure.

"I disagree. I think my career is plummeting from this trajectory."

Bay, for all his faults, knows how to piece an action scene together, and he also understands the power of humor—hit-and-miss as it may be—as an important facet of the tentpole blockbuster, meaning somewhere deep inside the shell of constant explosions and screaming, ridiculously-tan characters is a sleek, entertaining action film that manages to tell a big, fate-of-the-human-race story in grand fashion. Ultimately, the satisfying battle setpieces that pepper each act aren’t enough to keep “Fallen” from collapsing under the weight of all its bells and whistles, but one would be hard-pressed to find a more impressive failure to watch this summer.

Rating: Two and a Half of Five Stars

2009 | Director: Tony Scott (”True Romance,” “Crimson Tide”) | Writer: Brian Helgeland (”Nightmare on Elm Street 4,” “Conspiracy Theory”)

Among the things that made the original “The Taking of Pelham 123″ such a distinct heist film was the unmistakable presence of Walter Matthau, whose droopy appearance and schlubby persona made him the perfect lead for such an oddly-proportioned movie; clothed in one of the more hideous suits 1974 money can buy, Matthau’s Lt. Zachary Garber is first seen sleeping on the job before his character is introduced via a series of uncouth insults to a group of visiting Japanese businessmen, setting him up as an unlikely opponent for a criminal mastermind. By contrast, Tony Scott’s 2009 remake version of the character, Walter Garber (Denzel Washington), is far too capable, intelligent, and, despite the weight gain, attractive to come across as any sort of underdog; without that intriguing cat-and-mouse hook, the new “Pelham” is forced to rely on its screenplay to carry it home, and it’s just not up to the task.

"Hey, stop, or I'll shoot! Come back here! Ahhh...just forget it."

The plot stays nearly the same: a subway train leaving Pelham Station at 1:23 PM in New York City is stopped and held, along with its passengers, for ransom by a team of determined criminals led by Ryder (John Travolta), a foul-mouthed thug with a psychopathic twinkle in his eye. Ryder informs Garber, who happens to be working dispatch for the subway that day, that if 10,000,000 bucks, cash money, aren’t delivered to them in an hour, hostages will be executed. Mucking up the works are a nervous accomplice (Luis Guzman), an ineffective hostage negotiator (John Turturro), and the politically impotent Mayor of NYC (James Gandolfini).

Travolta searches his pockets for dignity

Most people remember Robert Shaw in the antagonist role in the original, and rightly so: his glassy-eyed calm at the specter of death gave that movie its frightening backbone—his was truly a man who cared little for human life, following only some hidden motivation that made his character a creepy wild card, and the perfect foil for Matthau’s cynical transit cop. Luckily, Travolta does only one thing well as an actor, and that’s play crazy, meaning his Ryder isn’t much of a drop-off as far as bad guys go. Washington’s character, on the other hand, is much more fleshed-out, but it just doesn’t feel necessary in his role, and especially since, just as in the original, Scott’s “Pelham” flounders in the third act.

Washington typically arrives for a day's shoot via the sewers

The main malefactor here isn’t Scott, surprisingly, despite his typically seizure-inducing visuals and bombastic musical cues; no, the real culprits are screenwriters Brian Helgeland and an uncredited David Koepp, who stick far too closely to the staid conclusion of the 1974 film instead of using their creative license to switch things up and twist the plot to a more unique outcome. The new “Pelham” isn’t a bad movie by any means, but it isn’t memorable, either, stalling somewhere on the scale between boring and mediocre. Perhaps it might not seem so to those who haven’t experienced the story in any of its previous incarnations, but to fans of Matthau’s grumbling flatfoot and Robert Shaw’s mastermind, the worst filmic sin committed by Scott’s re-imagining is that of laziness.

Rating: Two of Five Stars

2009 | Directors: “Land of the Lost” – Brad Silberling (”Casper,” “City of Angels”), “The Hangover” – Todd Phillips (”Starsky & Hutch,” “School for Scoundrels”)

As so many other comedic actors are known to do, Will Ferrell doesn’t really play individual characters in his films so much as he performs one continuous “Will Ferrell” impersonation. Thus, the “Will Ferrell” persona in “Anchorman” is essentially the same stunted, egotistical, man-child savant as in “Talladega Nights,” “Semi-Pro,” and the new Ferrell vehicle “Land of the Lost.” So it’s a little more than surprising that the latter is a decent film, replete with enough adventure and laughs from the rest of the cast to make for a pleasant evening at the cinema—provided one’s expectations are as bedrock-low as Ferrell’s own character-writing standards.

The original cast

Based on the campy 1974 TV program of the same name by creepy-kid-show creators Sid and Marty Krofft, “Land” weaves a yarn about Dr. Rick Marshall (Ferrell), a stunted, egotistical, man-child savant whose scientific interest in the sci-fi oriented field of inter-dimensional time warps makes him the laughingstock of the world (and of Matt Lauer, host of “The Today Show”). But when Marshall is convinced by enthusiastic doctoral student Holly Cantrell (Anna Friel) that his crackpot theories have more factual basis to them than anticipated, he, Cantrell, and white-trash tour guide Will Stanton (Danny McBride) find themselves thrown through time and space only to arrive in the titular area, a cosmic dumping ground for the detritus of other dimensions.

Ferrell’s repetitive bleating aside, “Land” suffers from two distinct flaws: one being intermittent earnestness in certain moments when a more outright parody would have better served the lowbrow style of humor, and the other being the non-stop barrage of crassness running through a film so heavily marketed as children’s fare. As a simple question of taste such deception is unethical; but even worse is the ironic fact that the movie might have opened to a higher box office gross had it been advertised as the absurd gross-out comedy it really is.

the new guys, dolled up for the premiere

Yet, however stale Ferrell’s act may now be, his interplay with the always-hilarious McBride (and the duo’s subsequent relationship with caveman Cha-Ka, played by an unrecognizable Jorma Taccone of SNL fame) is what buoys the film as a whole. Indeed, the slower moments of “Land,” when the characters are merely talking to each other, tend to be more exciting than the mediocre action bits. The filmmakers’ mistake of focusing heavily on plot and the aesthetics of physical chaos accidentally pays dividends in that, every ten minutes, time must be spent on exposition, where McBride’s biting deadpan playing off of Ferrell’s high-pitched yelps works to its greatest effect.

I realize it’s not a glowing recommendation, but at least “Land” possesses the talent to work through its problems and end up being an enjoyable time-waster, not to mention a film in which, trite as it sounds, childish people find stupid ways to be happy; on the other end of the spectrum is “The Hangover,” a spiteful work by Todd Phillips (“Old School”) that effectively suffocates any comedic genius lurking in the souls of Zach Galifianakis and Ed Helms. It’s ugly, it’s offensive on levels far more important than content, and worst of all, it’s just not amusing.

Far from focusing on any one of its reprehensible characters, “The Hangover” follows friends Doug (Justin Bartha), Phil (Bradley Cooper, “Wedding Crashers”), Stu (Helms), and Alan (Galifianakis) on a bachelor party-tear through Las Vegas—that is, until the remaining three lose Doug after a particularly raucous night of partying, sending them searching frantically across Sin City for the missing groom-to-be.

"Is this where the bus drives by and drops off our Oscars?"

But the gags you see in the trailers—a baby! a tiger! a missing tooth! the mush-mouthed corpse of Mike Tyson!—simply don’t play with any humor. Instead, save for a riotous performance from Ken Jeong and a decent reading here and there from Galifianakis, “The Hangover” brims with a particularly hateful brand of comedy, where filth and grime pass for color and profanity replaces wit or banter. The three friends slime their way from set-up to set-up, barking their lines without levity, and all the while a sickening sense that these characters are not people you’d ever want to know in real life pervades the experience. In a nutshell, it’s barely entertainment, but it’s never fun.

As a gentle diversions go, it’s hard to be disappointed by any decently-produced comedy; perhaps that’s why I found “Land” to be so much better than I had imagined a big-budget Will Ferrell bust could muster. But there’s no excusing away the grim “humor” presented by “The Hangover”—not as long as something so absurdly humanistic (if misguided) plays in the theater right across the hall.

Ratings: “Land of the Lost” – Three of Five Stars; “The Hangover” – One and a Half of Five Stars

2008 | Director: Mamoru Oshii (”Ghost in the Shell”, “Avalon”)

The first thing one has to transcend in order to appreciate a Japanese animation–or “anime”–is: yes, it is a cartoon, but it is not always in the style of something funny. In fact, this style of animation is, ironically, quite good at exploring themes in a way that can be so far removed from what we know as reality that it can have a profound effect on our sense of humanity.

Enter Dean Venture.

“The Sky Crawlers” does this in a way that may seem familiar to a fan of anime and the genre of steampunk. However, I feel it also tells a story more abstruse than what is ostensibly a war movie about fighter pilots.

I love stories about disaffected kids. Even better if they are chain-smoking, alcoholic, genetically engineered fighter pilots for a war between two companies in some mid 20^thCentury alternate reality. That’s the basic premise of “The Sky Crawlers”. It’s not given to you as such but rather this is teased out and at some places not so craftily revealed through dry scenes of exposition in the form of character monologue. Director Oshii has be criticized for his “people sitting in a booth at a place talking about the theme” scenes in other films. Though this scene is in “The Sky Crawlers” it is not set up in a way that is sufficiently detrimental to my enjoyment of the movie.

Cozy or claustrophobic?

Some people like to apply the 10 minute rule to watching a film. If they do not find it gripping after 10 minutes of watching then they will turn it off. This would probably happen for about 70% of the people watching this film if it were not for the opening sequence where these fantastic imaginary fighter planes (designed well enough to seem believable and be constant eye candy) are engaged in a thrilling and engaging dogfight. These action sequences are few and far between in “The Sky Crawlers”. However, these scenes of fighting or just flying are always enjoyable to watch and to hear.

the Kildren's Crusade.

Though the film seems long at 121 minutes and has stretches of no real action, I feel that the world is interesting enough that just looking at it in these slow moments is a good thing as it allows you get into the minds of these genetically engineered “Kildren”, as they are called, who are trapped in a perversion of the Peter Pan Syndrome, never growing old, and constantly fighting in a corporate war between two powerful iron works companies, Rostock and Lautern.

Yes, it is a story literally and figuratively not of this Earth, but the themes of human desperation, solitude, and nihilistic hopelessness have rarely been explored in a backdrop that is at once be so exciting and melancholically beautiful. The team scouted Ireland and Poland for the film.

If you are looking for a film to be non-stop dogfight action then you will be disappointed and also find the story somewhat anti-climactic, but if you can last long enough to appreciate the nuances of the characters and realize the purgatorial horror of their situation then I think you will greatly appreciate “The Sky Crawlers”.

Rating: Four Stars out of Five

Waiting for Daddy.

2009 | Director: Pete Docter (”Monsters, Inc.”) | Writers: Pete Docter and Bob Peterson

It’s partially true that the cohesiveness of both “Ratatouille” and “Wall-E” was what made them each so superb—the visuals, theme, score, and the like all went toward making accessible and rewarding films for families in a collective way, but then, that’s how Pixar has done it from the beginning (save for “Cars,” the one mediocre smudge on the studio’s resume). Therefore, it’s almost surprising that such a scattershot, episodic affair as Pete Docter’s “Up” is just as excellently deep and moving as its more tonally consistent predecessors.

Gaining momentum through a strikingly sad opening act, “Up” follows balloon salesman Carl (Ed Asner) through his life with wife Ellie, a similarly adventure-minded girl with whom the otherwise-grumpy boy finds love. When real life and old age find Carl alone and soon-to-be forced from his home, he resolves to visit the places his wife never could—specifically, the idyllic cliffs of Paradise Falls in South America. But his whimsical journey of planned solitude (by balloon-guided house, in all its iconic imagery) goes awry when a young, do-gooder stowaway, Russell (Jordan Nagai), insists that Carl aid him in protecting a mythical bird from the selfish clutches of Carl’s childhood hero, adventurer Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer).

The plot is harebrained, clunky, and most noticeably, jarring in its too-quick shifts from solemnity to slapstick humor. But the plot is only a small part of the otherwise-charming whole of “Up,” which relies heavily on the dreams and determination of its crisply-drawn characters, from the very human types of Carl and Russell to the hilariously-eager talking dogs (don’t ask) that pepper the funnier scenes. The juxtaposition of the alternately barren and lush locales with the Pixar team’s unearthly colors and sharp character design accentuate the plight of the protagonists, yet all the visual flair pales in comparison to the breathtakingly adult themes behind the look. At its heart, “Up” is about how any lonely soul deals with loss and longing, yet the same Pixar undercurrent of hope that surfaces in all their great films works doubly well here: that companionship and kindness can salve any wound, and no amount of ill will can subdue a truly hopeful heart.

Rating: Four of Five Stars

2009| Dir: Sam Raimi (”Darkman,” “A Simple Plan”) | Writers: Sam and Ivan Raimi

In the process of being dragged

Of the many weaknesses that plague PG-13 horror films (“The Sixth Sense” and “The Ring” aside), chief among them may be an inauthentic nature, or an attempt to dumb down and mass-market scares to an audience weaned less on Saturday morning cartoons than YouTube clips and reality TV. Horror legend Sam Raimi (director of the “Evil Dead” series, as well as of the “Spider-Man” trilogy) may be partially to blame for this trend, as his own Ghost House production company is behind some of the more insipid horror films of the last decade, pictures that rely on trite jolts and stale staples of the genre to gloss past their sadly boring plotlines. In a phrase, most viscera-free horror movies just aren’t that fun.

Happily, Raimi’s newest product, “Drag Me to Hell,” is a page out of the “Evil Dead” book (The Necronomicon Ex-Mortis?), bucking a troubling trend to become the rare horror movie that manages to be simultaneously terrifying and hilarious; even apart from being Raimi’s fabled return to form, this is one of the better fright films I’ve ever seen, director notwithstanding.

"How's the dragging going?"

When Christine (the charming Alison Lohman) makes a decision she thinks her boss will like—denying the loan extension request for an elderly Gypsy (Lorna Raver)—to further her career, she finds herself cursed by an ancient evil, one that threatens her and her loved ones, such as caring boyfriend Clay (Justin Long), with three days of unearthly torment before, as deadpan medium Rham Jas (Dileep Rao) tells her, that evil will come for her soul. Raimi chooses his lead wisely in Lohman, an adorably sweet girl who seems incapable of ill will. But after a day or two of non-stop terror—filmed in traditionally inventive Raimi fashion—her Christine shows the cracks in her Midwestern value system in deeply disturbing and darkly comedic ways, even to the point of desperate corpse defilement, all in the name of self-preservation. Will she indeed, as the title claims, be dragged off to unmentionable places?

A picture of the alluring Alison Lohman, complete with forged signature, stolen from another site

Raimi pulls out all the stops for “Drag Me,” inasmuch as the PG-13 rating, far from limiting his bag of games, seems to force the director to hearken back to the days of camera tricks and shocking humor. Far from dating the film, this old-school approach enlivens “Drag Me,” making it as, strange as it may sound, fun as any horror film in memory. It’s at once a classic Universal monster film and a slapstick lark by a studio man who moonlights as an ingenious film student, giving pause to the thinker who believes that no good deed goes unpunished. At worst it’s a reminder of how fun a subtext-light film can be in masterful hands, and at best, the world’s first good-natured horror movie, and that’s saying a lot.

Rating: Three and a Half of Five Stars

2008 | Director and Writer: Woody Allen (”Interiors,” “Radio Days”)

Remember those International Coffee ads from the 1980’s? Yeah, this movie is the prequel to those ads. That is the review. For those of you who don’t remember the ads then I guess I’ll give you my take.

I do not love everything Woody Allen does but I certainly find that, more often than not, I enjoy his films. As an auteur he has been one of the most prolific around. He has a style that I enjoy and a way of dealing with what could be pretentious subject matter in a straightforward manner that brings out the comedy and idiocy of the so-called intellectual metropolitan characters that populate his films. “Vicky Christina Barcelona” is no different.

Falling in line with his recent number of pictures starting with “Match Point,” Allen is staying away from his familiar New York City to instead shoot in Europe, and as such the film is beautiful looking. The main actors and the locations are all quite pretty and perform well. Penelope Cruz (she won all sorts of Best Supporting Actress awards for her role here including the Oscar), Javier Bardem, Rebecca Hall, and Scarlett Johansson have good chemistry.

The story is about how two female U.S. students, friends with different conceptions of love, find piece of mind in their respective theories through a two month Summer adventure in Spain. It skirts the edge of being “art house” and a pseudo-nihilistic time waster (96 minutes of this did not kill me); however, the film looks good and it does make a point of not overly glorifying the lives of the expatriate who finds love with the listless but “exciting” and independently wealthy artist. If anything it makes fun of this romance novel cliche and demystifies the whole charade as nothing more than something stupid people strive to find.

Any young woman who is thinking of going to Europe for a visit should probably see this movie … and maybe “Hostel.” I don’t know, I didn’t see that one.

"What was his name again? Let's say ... Juan Antonio Gonzalo."

Rating: Two and a Half of Five Stars

2009 | Director: McG (”We Are Marshall”) | Writers: John Brancato and Michael Ferris (”The Game,” “Catwoman”)

"Excuse me, but can you point me in the direction of the nearest Starbucks?"

There are many paradoxical problems with the time travel presented in the Terminator films, such as the potentially infinite loop shown through the series where human resistance leader John Connor’s buddy Kyle Reese goes back in time to save Connor’s mother from being killed by a murderous robot, and in the process nails her—this is the cool/stupid part—becoming the father of John himself. Don’t try too hard to wrap your mind around that; the first three movies are much more enjoyable if one stays mostly thought-free through the viewing experience.

But even a logic-optional series like this deserves a better director than former video hack McG behind the camera for its newest sequel, which, being set in the future threatened in the previous entries, eschews talk of time travel altogether, focusing instead on the irrelevant (and PG-13) plight of an original character and the flimsy repercussions of his bland arc. McG is nothing if not technically proficient, but even two early, blistering action scenes in “Terminator Salvation” do little to dress up the thinly drawn characters and formulaic plot that make up the whole of the film.

The two main characters face off in a...a crucial...cruc...zzzzzzzz...

After a needless preamble set all the way back in 2003, “Salvation” finds series newcomer Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington) wandering the post-nuclear wasteland of Los Angeles, asking aloud such questions as “Where am I?” and “What year is this?” If one has seen the trailer, or is smart enough to count to six, one may discern quickly that Wright is, in fact, a cyborg. But who resurrected him? What’s his purpose? And who gives a crap?

Meanwhile, John Connor (Christian Bale) finds himself stymied by bureaucracy in the form of a bunch of stuffy army dudes crammed into a submarine. Can Connor convince them that he’s the chosen one and bear the mantle of Leader before it’s too late? Will Connor be able to save young Reese (Anton Yelchin) from the evil robots before they assassinate him and prevent the aforementioned time-loop thingy?

Missing: this guy. A CGI facemap was used in his place, since he was busy fixing our state economy

The critical error in this smoldering hunk of cinematic wreckage is that Connor, long the focal point of the series’ destiny-themed storyline, is relegated to a side role as a snarling, almost antagonistic caricature of the role previously played by Edward Furlong and Nick Stahl. Instead, “Salvation” spends most of its time following Wright as he stares lifelessly at things one moment and screams gutturally the next; the movie essentially asks Terminator fans to care more about a wet-blanket nobody than the very man who must survive if the human race is to outlast the robots. But hey, the explosions are rad.

The rest of the semi-talented cast manage to sleepwalk through a plot that makes sure the audience knows that a vast network of machines is hankering to kill all humans, yet “Salvation” stuffs that potentially great premise into an insular package that lacks any authentic stakes or sense of urgency. The cyborg at the movie’s dull center may have a heart, but there’s no blood, figuratively or otherwise, pumping through this film.

Rating: Two of Five Stars