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Dark Places: Dreary in All the Wrong Ways
Among many other issues, Gilles Paquet-Brenner's mystery-thriller, Dark Places, is missing two key things: gravitas and grittiness. Adapted from Gillian Flynn's novel of the same name – a book published before her best-selling hit, Gone Girl –too many disappointing turns throughout the film's rather jaded set-up only serve to form a bland and trite viewing experience.
The story is centred on Libby Day (Theron); the sole survivor of a brutal murder that took the lives of her two sisters and mother, Patty (Hendricks). The catch? Her older brother, Ben – played Tye Sheridan as a teen and House of Cards' Corey Stoll as an adult – was convicted of the crimes, thanks to the testimony Libby gave as a seven-year-old child.
Traumatised and tormented as an adult by the events, Libby faces bankruptcy and finds a quick and temporary fix in Lyle (Hoult) – a member of amateur detective group, The Kill Club, who find some kind of cathartic pleasure in digging up questionable cases. Believing that Ben could be innocent, the group approaches Libby, who is offered money in exchange for helping to shed some light on her brother's case, forcing her to revisit her harrowing past.
Struggling with the consistency and the overall tone of the film, there's very little suspense or sense of intrigue in Gilles Paquet-Brenner's drab script – a far cry from David Fincher's beautifully envisioned and masterfully told Gone Girl. Not only does it suffer from over-plotting – satanic rituals, family-farm foreclosures, teenage pregnancies – but also somehow forgets to include its main protagonist in the story.
Told through flashbacks, the film spends most of its time moving back and forth from the days leading up to the murder to the present, where we are given pretty lifeless and disconnected version of Ms. Theron, seemingly doing her best impressions of Kristen 'Bella Swan' Stewart, with her usual talent and charm going largely underused. Meanwhile, though, Hendricks is compelling as the struggling mother – and probably the only noteworthy thing about this entire affair.
Wishy-washy and all-round characterless, Dark Places is neither as dark nor as daring as its synopsis, title and everything else about it suggests. In fact, it's disappointingly vanilla and a film better left off for a small-screen viewing.
Marking the fifth instalment in the Underworld franchise, Blood Wars rests in the hands of a first-time feature director, Anna Foerster who, although managing to create a few notable moments of action, fails to bring any ingenuity or freshness to its now exhausted vampires-versus-werewolves narrative.
The story begins with a brief recap of events from the last four films where we learn that everyone’s favourite vampire death dealer, Selena (once again fully embraced by the leather-clad, forever sulking Kate Beckinsale) has been betrayed and banished by her kind.
Still trying to cope with the pain of having given up her vampire-werewolf hybrid daughter Eve for everyone’s safety, Selena is surprised to be summoned back into the vampire community - now led by the scheming Semira (Pulver) - who wish to make use of her skills in order to train the new generation of fighters, while still escaping her own chasers and searching for her daughter.
Taking quite a bit of time to get going, Blood Wars – written by Cory Goodman – is filled with lots of politics and nonsensical dialogue between characters who seemingly have a hard time in conveying any emotion, thus, making it all that difficult for the viewer to get invested in what they have to say. Drenched in a seemingly cold, metallic-blue tint, Blood Wars – although certainly not heavy on the action front – does manage to offer a couple relatively exciting action set-pieces. However, considering that this is a vampires-verses-werewolves kind of a movie, there just isn’t enough of that that specific mythology to set it apart from any other action movies – no wooden stakes or silver bullets to see here folks, just plenty of swirling swords and guns that can’t hurt anyone.
Another problem here is that the mythology behind the franchise in general – something the keeps spinning around aimlessly with no real focus or ending in sight – is a little hard to take seriously.
All of the characters, including the PVC-wearing Kate Beckinsale, who thinks that scowling her way through the scenes will get her anywhere, are all without an ounce of charm or personality – which sadly, brings us to a conclusion that there is no fun to be had in this rather forgettable cinematic offering and generic continuation of a franchise which, perhaps, might be ready now to close its doors and call it a day.
What can you say about the seemingly unstoppable force that is Nicolas Cage that hasn’t been said before? A magnet for the most troubled, muddled and just generally exasperating films to hit cinemas in the last five years, his latest work in USS Indianapolis: Men of Courage does nothing to change his fortunes.
Despite being based on one a true story that has all the makings of a war epic, the Mario Van Peebles-directed USS Indianapolis bleeds all and any gravitas and emotion out of its incredibly dramatic source material.
The story goes as thus: the eponymous US Navy cruiser delivered the first parts of the atomic bomb that would go on to devastate Hiroshima, before being torpedoed by the Japanese navy, leaving some 300 of the 1000-plus crewmen dead and the rest stranded in shark-infested waters. Said sharks, along with dehydration and salt water poisoning, leave just over 300 survivors to be rescued.
At the centre of the ensuing hubbub is Cage’s Captain McVay, who many, very unreasonably, blame for the death of the 700 or so victims – so you see, it’s a very complex story, but one that very quickly descend into and exercise on how not to make a war film.
The occasional laughable CGI aside, Cage is oddly sedate, bordering on placid, in his role – yes, the central character is possibly the flattest element of the film, while seasoned actors, Tom Sizemore and Thomas Jane, are given little to chew on in their respective roles.
While starting exactly as one would expect a war film to, the wreckage part of the film turns into cheap disaster movie, before turning into a courtroom drama in the final act. It’s a muddle of a film that fails to really drum to the beat of McVay’s potentially brilliant arc as a firm commander that eventually buckles under the unjust pressure he receives back at home.
Bad CGI, a mammoth two hour-plus running time and Nic Cage can be forgiven, but what’s at the heart of this film’s mess is the script. Jumping from event to event, plotline to plotline, at a whim, with Cage’s soft murmured speech used to pave over the transitions, USS Indianapolis’s pacing is that of a film hurrying to stuff as many ideas and threads as possible – expect that’s not the case. Van Peebles tries so hard to build the layers of an epic, when, actually, all he needed to do was tell this simple but stirring story as it is.