Reviews

Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon give standout performances in what may be Clint Eastwood's least effective film to date.

Following the story of Nelson Mandela's early presidency (Morgan Freeman in a genuine portrayal despite some trouble with the accent), and the improbable journey of South Africa's rugby team to the 1995 World Cup final, Clint Eastwood pilots an obsessively sanitized depiction of true events that feels like a big-budget, G-rated movie of the week. Matt Damon—sporting a prosthetic, tough-guy nose—is solid as team captain Francois Pienaar (and much more consistent with the accent) and forges a believable kinship with Mandela. Pienaar inspires his squad to greatness at the beaconing of a wise president who understands the power of national pride in calming political unrest.

Racial hostility is alluded to but scarcely seen with the exception of a few impolite stares and uncomfortable parings between black and white side characters. The inexcusably slow pace is further aggravated by a surprising lack of suspense or obstacles that even maintain the facade of insurmountability. What could have been a riveting, though formulaic, exercise in underdog political and athletic achievement plays more like a tribute video to a country whose growth seems inevitable.

Narrative focus seems to be the main hang-up for Eastwood, as much screen time is dedicated to a sport that few can follow without prior exposure, and too little attention paid to the complexities of Mandela himself. Drama nearly builds as Mandela's security detail meticulously prepare for the worst before each public appearance, but no assassination attempts are thwarted because none take place.

Poor sound work and opaque editing (especially during the climax) round out what time will reveal as a low point for team Eastwood. Hearing the sound of jerseys ripping at the highest volume may have sounded artsy on the page, but it pulled me out of the moment. As did the continual cutting to aerial shots of the frantic CG stadium crowd anytime a play was completed on the field. We get it Clint; this is a big movie.

Thankfully the cast is talented enough to elevate an unfortunate Eastwood misfire into a thoroughly mediocre film.

After languishing in the disappointment that was Brett Ratner's X3, I made it a point to walk into Superman Returns with low expectations. They should have been lower. It isn't that the film is outright terrible (though it has many glaring flaws); rather, I had unknowingly outgrown the Superman myth. And considering that Bryan Singer offers nothing original to the new installment, I think America will find its timeless icon a little dated.

First, there is the casting—the most important part of any film attempting to match an original that has become so iconic, its actors have replaced the comic book characters in America's collective conscience. Newcomer Brandon Routh most definitely looks the part (besides being too young), but has half the screen presence of Christopher Reeve. Although Superman isn't known for his emotional instability, it seems that Singer played it safe by limiting Routh's range to avoid having the new Superman give a poor performance. Instead, we are left with almost no performance.

Kate Bosworth is equally as bland as Lois Lane (and again, too young for the role). And with her lifeless brown hair that left me aching for her typical screen blond, she isn't even much to look at. Kevin Spacey's performance as Lex Luther also left something to be desired—though I'm not sure exactly what. He's hardly the lovable Lex that Gene Hackman played. The rest of the cast was decent, with the exception of Frank Langella. His dull portrayal of Perry White made me wish they had grabbed J. K. Simmons straight out of Spiderman to talk about his barber.

Though suspension of disbelief is required for nearly every comic book film, the plot of Returns is so illogically strung together I had trouble letting go. At first my mind started asking questions that shouldn't be asked of Superman. What did Superman eat while he flew around the universe looking for Krypton? Does Superman need to eat? How does he breathe in space (which, to be fair, is a question that applies to the original films as well)? Once Lex Luther's plan emerged, however, I moved past the (unfair) premise questions and asked some legitimate questions. Without spoiling the plot, I'll just say that there are ways for Lex to hatch his plan for world domination without killing billions people. I didn't buy into the "necessary sacrifice."

On the upside, Singer's direction is glossy and competent. The score works well thanks to a liberal sprinkling of John Williams' original theme song, the special effects are, of course, impressive, and the action sequences especially stand out. Overriding the tension generated by well-staged and edited action, however, is a lack of any real sense of peril. And surprisingly, the pace is rather slow throughout—which is only made tolerable by some scattered comic relief.

Singer takes an unexpected turn toward the end of the film when he emphasizes the parallels between Superman and Jesus to the point where the audience wonders if Returns is simply another allegory in the vein of The Chronicles of Narnia. While the comparison is interesting, one can only wonder how far it can be stretched considering the Superman in this rehash stands for truth, justice, and irresponsible romances (reflecting the plot's only surprise).

The bottom line for any resurrection of a classic film or series is there better be a damn good reason. In the case of Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan ripped the decaying body of Batman from the grave, and gave him the breath of life. Batman became complex, raw, and 100% real. Although Superman is an entirely different beast—one who is too busy saving people to reflect on his lack of flaws—today's audiences expect their superheroes to be tad more human. Unfortunately for Returns, in an overexerted effort to pay tribute to Richard Donner, a super-cautious Singer reanimates Superman like a puppeteer; but fails to give him life.

5.5/10