Search found 1 match: James Franco

speaking of running from the past, rupert wyatt's immensely entertaining rise of the planet of the apes works on the premise that while progress can open our minds and pave the way for a brighter future, it also cultivates holier-than-thou arrogance and a condescending disdain for our biological history that may well come back 'n bite us in the ass. it's a riff on frankenstein which reminds that though technology may allow us some level of dominion over nature, the real war is against the beast within ourselves - a war we can never win.

if it ultimately lays on its ironies far too thick (humanised apes and bestial humans, technological progress ---> ethical regression, etc) when a more even-handed, bittersweet meditation on the rewards and sacrifices of our society's philosophy would no doubt have more lasting potency, it is a summer blockbuster, and while i would never adher to the idea that we sometimes ask too much of our mainstream cinema, the film obviously succeeds against the more modest goals of such a context. the narrative is gripping despite necessarily following a telegraphed route (this is a curse and the beauty of prequels; you can't really employ much narrative surprise, hence you can't rely on it) due to research ape caesar, the monstrous creation at its centre who chews up the screen from start to finish, his every posture and every gesture ablaze with pent up emotions a thousand different shades.

in his transition from dizzily gifted, gleefully curious child into confused, hormonal adolescent and ultimately the frightening leader of a brutal uprising, caesar proves a convincing and intriguingly empathetic portrayal of how the seeds of war and fascism (he uses the roman symbol of such in uniting his brethren) are first planted and teased into fruition. he seems to evolve more quickly than the film, and as the wounds in those frighteningly intelligent eyes begin to fester he starts dragging it behind him by the scruff of the neck, like a ghost of the future returned to force upon the audience a vision of just where all this scientific meddling will lead us.

a handful of images remain lodged in the craw: caesar's liberating climbs up majestic redwoods in a shivery foreshadowing of what's to come; caesar's return mid-revolt to the home of geneticist and adopter-betrayer will rodman (james franco) to watch him, expression unreadable, while he sleeps; caesar tenderly helping will's altzheimer's-riddled father (john lithgow) to eat properly; caesar brutally electrocuting the sadistic keeper at the oppressive animal shelter in which he is incarcerated for attacking a neighbor, a man played by draco malfoy's tom felton in a scene which happens to remind of that amazing moment when harry near-kills malfoy in the half blood prince, our hero's entirely justified manchild rage leading him astray (the difference being, harry pulls back before it's too late).

hell, there are a fair few images during caesar's rise which tower over anything involving the humans, and while i suppose that's fitting given his singular presence, by the climactic scenes of him going apeshit he's become so dominantly empathetic (partly by process of elimination) that it provides little more than the adrenaline rush of an action spectacle - barely a pinch of ambiguity to be found. ultimately, it's a film that asks fascinating questions without showing much curiosity in the answering of them; slicker and neater than the original apes by a good distance, but hardly as mythic, provocative or humbling regarding the arrogance and vulnerability of humankind, let alone colonialism and bigotry. in that respect, the film feels like a product of the cartoonish humans herein, possessed of an uncomplicated certainty that may ultimately be its downfall.