Ghosts of Mars

Ghosts Of Mars is a lot like Werner Herzog in a clown outfit. Allow me to explain. In interviews, director John Carpenter has said that Ghosts Of Mars was an attempt to make a simple, turn-your-brain-off, OTT, tongue-in-cheek action movie. It wasn't meant to be a serious horror movie, it wasn't meant to even be serious. It was meant to be dumb, fun, but not so dumb that it lapsed into overt comedy. He was aiming for that campy sweet spot of movies like Commando or Predator, where things like character arcs and morals were gleefully ignored in favor of explosions and dozens of red-shirts getting mowed down. The problem is, he didn't direct that movie. He's directed that movie before; Escape From New York is dumb fun. Big Trouble In Little China is dumb fun. Those movies were crafted to be in on the joke. Ghosts Of Mars WANTS to be dumb fun, and in a way, it is. There is nothing to be had here but explosions and red-shirts getting mowed down, mixed in with some sci-fi hokum to give it all a fresh setting and a unique reason to be happening. And if you turn your brain off, it accomplishes that in the same way that Werner Herzog wearing a clown outfit makes him look like a clown. But wearing a clown suit is not the same as being a clown. Ghosts Of Mars lacks the heart necessary to pull off a campy atmosphere. Escape From New York took the plot seriously, but it never took ITSELF seriously, and that's Ghosts' failing. There is no sense of fun in this movie. It's not bleak or hopeless, it's just lacking the adrenaline and thrills one might find in one of those dumb-as-rocks action movies Carpenter was aiming for. I watched it and I saw action, and I saw dozens, if not hundreds, of faceless extra get shot or thrown around with explosions, but that's all I saw. I didn't have fun. I didn't get a thrill out of it. It happened, the movie moved on to the next scene, lather, rinse, repeat. There are other ways this movie drops the ball, like the score. It often feels like they wanted to license some popular nu-metal music of the time and couldn't, so they made some themselves. It's like if the fourth band down the bill on the second stage of a metal festival did hold-music for an insurance company. The tempo and tone never match the scene, and it is as memorable as a plain saltine cracker. One thing that is not forgettable, though I wish it were, was the editing. There are so many baffling editing choices made in this, and I really have a hard time reconciling that this is from the man who directed two of the greatest horror movies of all time. The movie uses cross-fades to advance time, but only a few seconds; for instance, there's one scene where Natasha Henstridge and Jason Statham are walking down a corridor, coming towards the screen from a distance. Rather than showing them walking down the corridor, cross-fades are employed to move them closer, cutting out two, maybe three steps total. This happens again with a scene in a jail, where Henstridge is by the cell wall, cross-fade, she's two steps away from it. Why was that necessary? What did it accomplish? And if that isn't enough, better get out your corkboard and string to make one of those it's-all-connected diagrams. The whole movie is told in flashback, with the framing device of the last survivor of this train telling her story of what happened to a tribunal. So, aside from having all suspense stripped away by telegraphing the ending, the movie is a flashback. Carpenter knew they wouldn't be able to show scenes the main character didn't see, though, because that's how life works, so they employ "well, the lieutenant told me ...", and she'd relay what she was told for plot events she didn't see. That means a flashback within the flashback. Except there's one scene where another character is relating events that happened prior to that, so there is actually a flashback within a flashback within a flashback. John, if you're trying to make a tongue-in-cheek popcorn action movie, maybe the Russian nesting dolls of flashbacks is a little too Christopher Nolan for your B-movie romp? Just a thought. I'm still giving this 2 1/2 stars, despite its many, many flaws, because I wasn't bored by it. I mean, it wasn't great, don't get me wrong. I'll be hazy on it by dinner, and forget it entirely before the weekend is over. But it did just enough to keep my attention, and didn't do enough to anger me. I certainly don't think it deserves the reputation of being Carpenter's worst movie, but it also doesn't do anything to deserve being remembered. Starman may be the most unusual and non-Carpenter-esque of his movies, and The Ward may be the movie that feels the most like a soulless contractual obligation, but this feels the most anonymous and perfunctory. His name in the credits is the only reason anyone will ever remember this.