Year: 2021

Hitman: Closing Time (1999-2007)

Hitman vol 07

Hitman: Closing Time opens the only way it can (or should) following the previous collection’s gut-wrenching conclusion, which saw Tommy’s surrogate father, Sean, die protecting him. It starts with a Lobo crossover. And writer Garth Ennis spends the entire issue shitting on Lobo. It’s a done-in-one crossover with art from Doug Mahnke. The art’s perfectly excessive, starting with Tommy and Sean (there’s an editor’s note explaining it takes place in the past) spitting in Lobo’s beer. Lobo’s in Gotham on an interstellar bounty hunt and stops by the bar, initially annoying everyone but then becoming a problem when he starts picking on Sixpack.

Thanks to his mind-reading superpower, Tommy knows how Lobo’s super-healing works and concocts a way to take him on. It becomes a foot chase of destruction through Hitman’s Gotham, complete with gangsters and Section 8 (Sixpack’s super-team). Lots of blood, lots of laughs (almost all of them at Lobo’s expense), and a lot of nice art from Mahnke.

Sure, the resolution gag is definitionally homophobic, but if you squint and look at it from a certain point of view, it’s fine… ish. It’s also just the resolution gag; the comic needs a way to wrap up, given Tommy can’t take on an indestructible space mutant forever. The rest of the jokes are just about Lobo being a stupid character. The crossover politics of DC Comics and Hitman must be a great story.

Then there’s a short story about Sixpack’s drunk-dream adventures with Superman, art by Nelson DeCastro (pencils) and Jimmy Palmiotti (inks). It’s from a Superman 80-Page Giant and is entirely for laughs, with Sixpack arguing about superhero morality with Superman, opting for killing the bad guys. Or trying to kill them, with Big Blue having to curb Sixpack’s enthusiasm. It’s very classy art for a comic where Lex Luthor gets gut-punched for a gag.

The story placement also sets up Sixpack as a significant player in Closing Time. The Lobo crossover kicks off because of Sixpack, has him bring in Section 8, then the Superman “crossover” is entirely his story. The following story–as Closing Time starts collecting Hitman proper—is also Sixpack-focused. Sure, Tommy and Natt are chasing a naked guy through the Cauldron, but the drama is about Section 8 giving up on Sixpack’s dream of a super-team. If only there were something he could do to prove himself.

Luckily, Natt and Tommy aren’t chasing just any naked guy. He’s a lab assistant at the Injun Peak Research Center. Thanks to demonic dealings, some scientist turned him into a tesseract (the infinitely vast container variety, not the Avengers MacGuffin). The first part of the story’s split between Tommy and Natt chasing the naked guy (who can pull pretty much anything he wants right out of his you-know-what), Sixpack and his colleagues arguing about their super-team efficacy, and the bean counter discovering worse and worse details in the scientist’s practices. The science talk has Ennis’s most inventive writing, while Tommy and Natt’s chase gives artists John McCrea and Garry Leach a nice absurd, slightly gross-out comedy action sequence.

The second half of the story has more gross-out comedy action, but also actual gore as interdimensional demons find a toe-hold in our universe. Ennis does horror, comedy, heart, and action with it, finding a rather nice resolution while also revealing it’s a story out of time. While not set in the past like the opening Lobo one, it’s detached from the overall Hitman narrative. Ennis is just doing a Sixpack story in Hitman, not fitting Sixpack into a Tommy story.

The three and a half issue starting bookend and then a two-issue closer will set Closing Time’s main arc (appropriately titled Closing Time) apart from the rest of the collection, which is appropriate. The Closing Time arc, an eight-issue epic closing off the series and its so far surviving cast, is a doozy.

Mainly having resolved all the mob stuff last collection—there’s still a bounty on Tommy and Natt’s heads, but the mob itself isn’t a villain, just its hopeful hitmen—Ennis goes back to the start to find strings to tie up the series. Though he takes his time revealing where all those strings come from. Instead, he sticks to the first one he introduces–the mom who lost her kid to the vampires a while back. She’s in trouble and, if you’re lucky enough to know him, there’s no one better to help you with trouble than Tommy Monaghan. It’s a nice way to open the story, with Ennis then putting in an echoing device. That echoing device is a quick, devastating rumination on the series’s overall tragedy; great stuff. But Closing Time is just a series of great stuffs.

Starting with giving Tommy’s on-again-off-again girlfriend Tiegel a character development subplot for the arc. She doesn’t get in on the action this time, with Ennis bringing back a rogue female CIA agent as Tommy’s love interest and he and Natt’s third. The rogue CIA agent, McAllister, is one of Ennis’s archetypes—the capable female espionage agent–with McAllister being both softer and harder than he’ll go with the template in the future. It’s particularly interesting because she’s a deus ex machina too early in the plot. Most of Closing Time is about her bonding with Tommy and Natt and the supporting cast. She gets to be a regular cast member faster than anyone else in the comic ever has (though I guess Ennis never really tried with anyone else).

The story’s villain will turn out to be an evil CIA guy trying to make government superheroes with alien technology from the Bloodlines. The experiments aren’t going well, though there’s actually a lot less with the flesh-eating human monsters than I was expecting. Ennis contains most of the gore to a subplot with the lead scientist. The villain, Truman, is another returning character. McAllister’s back from the Green Lantern crossover issue, Truman’s back from early on, then there’s the main hitman nemesis, the son of a vanquished baddie. Not to mention the mom in trouble. Or the Dirty Harry-esque cop who’s promised to protect Tommy against any enemy. Lots of return appearances, all tied together thanks to Tommy. No one can escape the Cauldron.

Ennis also does a bunch of flashbacks, setting up Tommy and Natt as teenagers in the Marines and Tommy growing up in the Cauldron, which means some old Sean and Pat appearances. Ennis writes Hitman to be binge-read, not just for the callbacks to earlier in the series. The Closing Time arc is paced for a single reading. It must’ve been very frustrating DC took forever to collect it.

The Closing Time story has a good three-act structure throughout the eight installments, with some big action set pieces throughout and a whole lot of heart. Everyone gets their appropriate farewell in the comic, with Ennis grabbing the heartstrings and yanking as hard as he can. There are some hints the story’s a rushed conclusion, the occasional plot detail Ennis has to push too hard on to make fit, the things he wasn’t done exploring. But they make it work. It’s a lovely finish for the comic.

So it not being the last story in the collection is initially a little odd, especially since the coda is a JLA crossover, originally intended for the JLA Classified anthology series, which got canceled before the Hitman one ran. So instead of a four-parter, it’s a two-parter, set six years after the main series, when everyone’s fate has cemented, and an intrepid reporter has some questions about Superman’s relationship with professional hitman Tommy Monaghan, a known killer, and man of notoriously vicious and intemperate disposition. The reporter—named Kirby, with Ennis showing his soft side—interviews Superman’s de facto press agent, one Clark Kent.

At some point in the past, the Bloodlines aliens came back, and the JLA needed someone who they’d give powers for scientific reasons. So they go get Tommy and bring him to the moon, where Kyle Rayner Green Lantern’s embarrassed to know him, and Batman takes delight in telling Superman about Tommy’s profession. Ennis balances the alien threat with Superman reconciling being emotionally invested in a “bad guy” and Tommy having a blast in a superhero crossover. Some excellent writing on the characters from Ennis, who might not have wanted to write DC superheroes, but it’s too bad they didn’t convince him to do more of it.

The conclusion works as a rumination for the whole series.

McCrea pencils and inks the JLA crossover, busting ass to give it a unique, distinct feel from the regular series. Especially after Closing Time, it’s kind of hard to imagine Hitman without Leach inking McCrea. But then the crossover isn’t a Hitman comic; it’s a Superman story about Hitman.

And it just makes you want to read the whole comic, all sixty issues plus crossovers, all seven trades, all 1,600 pages, all over again. Ennis, McCrea, and Leach do one hell of a job.

The Linguini Incident (1991, Robert Shepard)

I watched most of The Linguini Incident’s 108-minute runtime waiting to go read the IMDb trivia page and discover what wealthy New Yorker bankrolled a movie for their kid to star in with Hollywood actors. Except there’s no such item on the trivia page, and it doesn’t appear to be the backstory to the film’s production. And now Linguini makes even less sense.

The Linguini Incident takes until the third act to reveal what the title’s referencing, and then it skips through it because writers Tamar Brott and director Shepard couldn’t come up with a compelling story. So they punt. They punt on the “linguini incident” being at all relevant, which kind of carries for the film itself. There are multiple times Brott and Shepard’s script introduces character traits as reveals (not to mention a big twist with one of the main actors), and if it were an artlessly produced vanity project, not going back and fixing the movie would make sense. But if they’re doing Linguini straight? It’s bewildering what they miss.

The film takes place mainly in a swank New York nightspot called “Dali” because the interiors are surreal. Sort of. There are some nods to surrealism like they had enough money to decorate a quarter of a wall, and then the rest of it was just a warehouse turned into a restaurant. It’s okay, Meatpacking District, whatever. Though it’s not supposed to be in a trendy area, at least not based on the street location for the entrance.

All the staff wear silver latex-y outfits, except the owners, Andre Gregory and Buck Henry (who hack and ham their way through this thing like they’re trying to find the bottom of a pit). Gregory and Henry wear big band suits. Linguini really doesn’t understand how to make quirky happen. Director Shepard’s got fail after fail in the movie—and, arguably, the direction of Gregory and Henry’s even worse than not being able to make it quirky—but still. Gregory and Henry aren’t in it very much until the last third. They’re at the opening, they’re terrible, but then they go away. They have to come back for one of the reveals. Their third act spotlight takes the movie away from Rosanna Arquette, who’s been losing the picture to every costar after the first sequence—including at one point a rabbit—but it’s still a surprise.

Okay, fine, the quirky. Let’s talk about the quirky. Outside the costumes and Arquette’s character—she’s a former Catskills tween entertainer trying to make her comeback as a Houdini-inspired escape artist, only she’s terrible at it—Shepard’s big idea for quirk is to have people utterly incapable of delivering comic lines deliver comic lines. Usually, Eszter Balint, who plays Arquette’s best friend and her ostensible rival for David Bowie’s affections. Also, Viveca Lindfors. Shepard does a terrible job directing Lindfors’s cameo as an antique shop owner. Bowie’s not quirky. He’s also better dressed when he’s not at work—he’s a bartender, Arquette’s a waitress—which seems weird, but then he also has really precise hair throughout. It’s like Bowie brought along his own costume designer and hair person, not trusting Linguini’s. I mean, rightly so. But still.

Bowie needs to get married for a green card, and he’s got his sights set on hostess Marlee Matlin. Matlin’s one of the only well-timed comedic performances, James Avery’s the other; Avery’s got three lines and better timing than anyone else in the movie. You can almost see him ignoring Shepard’s direction and just doing the delivery well.

So Matlin wants a pay-off to marry Bowie; he’s going to have to rob their place of work to get her the cash. But then Arquette wants to rob Gregory and Henry too so she can buy some memorabilia from Lindfors. No spoilers, but the robbery thing is a red herring to get the movie into its third act, which makes sense if you’re trying to appease some kid’s rich parents bankrolling your movie. For an actual motion picture where, presumably, at least one person read the script more than once… not so much.

Linguini could be worse, to be sure. What if Bowie, Arquette, and Balint were as lousy as Gregory and Henry, for example. But they’re also not unlikable. It’s hard for them to be sympathetic because they’re absurd and poorly written, but Bowie’s got some energy. Arquette and Balint run out of it quickly—possibly because they’ve got no chemistry—but they aren’t energy vampires like many other cast members.

The music—from Thomas Newman—is best described as half-ass, and the other technicals aren’t any better. Sonya Polonsky’s editing is terrible, Robert D. Yeoman’s photography is bland; however, given they’re working with Shepard’s direction, it’s not like it could be any other way. There’s no way to cut Shepard’s shots together any better, no way to light them better.

A rewrite, a better director, some recasting, The Linguini Incident would still be missing a protagonist and a point. Shepard and Brott can’t commit on Arquette, Balint, or Bowie and hand it off to Gregory and Henry instead of making any decisions.

It’s kind of incredible it’s comprehensible at all. Some of the acting’s terrible and whatnot—some of the writing—but it’s clearly all director Shepard’s fault.

The Stop Button Guide 54

A collection of film responses discussing the career of French director, Jacques Tati, who made films such as MON ONCLE, PLAY TIME, and JOUR DE FETE, starring his comic character, Monsieur Hulot. Covers all of Tati's films as a director, as well as the short subjects he directed or starred in. 

Selected Declarations 21.12.28

I wasn’t planning on launching Selected Declarations until 2022 (I’ve even got a topic ready), but since I’ve been inbox-bombing Stop Button subscribers with archival posts all night, I thought I’d explain in a “preview.

While I don’t have any significant plans for the blog in 2022, I did have a bunch of cleaning up to do after a misguided return to self-hosting a couple years ago. And then combining Stop Button and Comics Fondle. So there’s housekeeping from that one too. One of the things I wanted to get done was setting up better hosting for podcasts, which I did. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it through and removed all the original posts from when the episodes went live. If I’d kept them, I could’ve just edited those posts and not created a bunch of “new” posts, which WordPress.com then sent to subscribers.

My bad. I’m not going to do more than five a day now I’ve got the formatting finalized. Rough estimate, it’ll be a month of the extra (old) posts. I’d love to figure a way around it, but it’s also a bit of work to get each post done with the new Gutenberg blogging system, so I don’t really want to do more than five a day. I can make templates for embedding the podcast episodes no problem. The header art is another story; I’ve decided to give everything its own header image. Not a problem for the Best of An Alan Smithee Podcast because Matt did a bunch of nice new headers back when we posted that project; probably not a problem for Podcast 60 because they cover single subjects (i.e., episodes), but it’s a pain for the old Comics Fondle episodes. We never thought of doing individual episode art. I’ve found an all-right template. Nothing earth-shattering, but visually distinct. Actually, I’m going to work on it a little more.

Otherwise, 2022 blogging plans are getting through some catalog films and a read-through of more Love and Rockets. Through volume two. I’ve got a nice schedule worked out for both, which should also allow for a return to prose reading. I’ve had Little Women sitting waiting for a read (to be fair, the still exceptionally difficult to talk about even in internal monologue book project derailed that read), but 2022’s got a couple memoirs dropping I’ve been wanting for years—Jamilah Lemieux and Raquel Willis’s—so time to get back to reading.

Reading without thinking about writing. What a concept.

Selected Declarations will be at least weekly posts. The name is a Harry Mathews nod, though I never grokked him as much as I thought I would. There’s also a wink-wink constraint; if someone guesses the what and why, there’s a No Prize with your name on it.

Anyway.

Buckle up; we’re in for another unimaginably stupid year.

Superman ’78 (2021) #5

S5

It’s the Superman ’78 version of an action issue, which means a terribly written scene for Marlon Brando and Susannah York saying goodbye to adult Christopher Reeve this time, some boring Superman vs. Brainiac robots action, and Metropolis-in-danger montage shots. The montage shots have bad dialogue when they have it, but also a cameo from “Barney Miller” Hal Linden and possibly Gus Gorman (Richard Pryor from Superman III).

The cameos don’t save it. Or help it. Because Superman ’78 is fairly intolerably bad again. I feel like I got more bullish on it for an issue, but the comic’s back to the Robert Venditti-penned pits again. The conversation Jor-El and Kara have when sending Superman back out into the world to save Metropolis from Brainiac is the worst dialogue of the series so far and probably the worst dialogue in a comic I’ve read in quite a while. Brando Jor-El flexes about the derring-do of the men of the House of El, and it’s beyond insipid. Though it’s kind of funny to imagine Brando filming it and asking for another fifty thousand dollars per word as he read the dialogue for the first time.

Or just up and quit. Because it’s real bad. I thought Superman ’78 had bad writing when Venditti was aping dialogue from the movies themselves, but when he’s got to write for Marlon Brando… Venditti bellyflops hard enough you can hear it across the twenty-eight known galaxies. People pay money for this comic book; they should get dialogue a seventies toy commercial wouldn't refuse.

And Wilfredo Torres’s art has lost the charm too. Maybe because the Superman action is so bad, maybe because the talking heads scene is so bad (like, Jor-El and Kara talk about sending their baby away again, maybe try to duplicate The Movie scene beats), but it’s not cute or charming anymore. Also, because Superman’s kind of barely in it. Torres loses track of Superman in the cliffhanger lead-up. On and on.

The opening with a rando walking his dog is better than anything else in the movie, and it’s basically a Red Skies Crisis riff. Hopefully, a Red Skies Crisis riff. Who cares. There’s one more to go. It’s almost over.

What should’ve been a slam dunk on Torres’s art alone is proving Superman IV is an accomplishment, all things considered.

Around the World in 80 Days (2021) s01e02

Last episode, it seemed very much like David Tennant, despite being top-billed, was just going to be “Around the World in 80 Days” ’s monied catalyst. He can afford this great adventure, but it’s going to be Ibrahim Koma and Leonie Benesch’s story. Koma’s a working-class (Black) Frenchman on the run from at least responsibility and maybe some other things; Benesch’s a woman in the Victorian world, where no one thinks she can do anything. Together, they’re going to help foppish, incapable Tennant accomplish his task while talking crap about him behind his back. Including Benesch going all-in on the era’s toxic masculinity, at least when it comes to Tennant. He’s a fraud, they’re sure, and Benesch has hung her ambitions on him.

Only in this episode it turns out Tennant’s very much going to be the lead. And the show’s going to directly interrogate the toxic expectations.

Tennant, Koma, and Benesch start the episode by crash landing their hot air balloon and catching an Italian train, where Tennant runs afoul of a self-made industrialist, Giovanni Scifoni. Scifoni doesn’t like British blue bloods, and he doesn’t like his son, Cristian De Vergori, bonding with Tennant. So a lot of the episode is just Scifoni browbeating Tennant into feeling like this “Around the World” adventure will inevitably fail. Koma and Benesch agree—amongst themselves—with Benesch embracing that toxic masculinity dismissal of Tennant. It makes Benesch unlikable, which the episode evens out with all the workers on the train hating her because she talks and she’s a woman. She’s hanging out with Koma, who’s hanging out with the train drivers and conductors, who like her when she’s decorative and not at all when she speaks. Well, except maybe conductor Simone Coppo, who ends up being compassionate. Mostly because Coppo’s really good.

After the initial dustups with Sciofoni, Tennant spends the episode pensive, making brusque observations about himself—while avoiding giving Benesch the background into his personal history she desires—and it’s all about the performance. Tennant’s captivating in his brooding silence. It’s an exceptional performance given the constraints of the project—it’s a TV adaptation of a Victorian novel, after all, and Tennant brings a whole new layer to it.

Of course, there are some other layers, thanks to Koma not really fitting in with the Italian working class. He’ll eventually win them over (and then reject their friendship thanks to his self-loathing). “Around the World” has layer upon layer, the eventual Tennant arc coming as a surprise, with the narrative distance gracefully shifting a quarter of the way into the episode. Again, Steve Barron’s direction is excellent.

Also, the technology aspect. There isn’t much in the way of expository dumps about how new technologies are changing lives. Instead, the show just shows the characters experiencing it and its newness. It’s very cool.

Of the main stars, Benesch gets the least material. First, she’s decorative to Tennant’s initial plotline—she’s allowed to socialize with the first-class passengers while Koma’s off with the workers. Then she’s support to Koma’s character development. Finally, both she and Koma are support to Tennant’s arc, as an unexpected crisis allows him to excel. There’s some foreshadowing with the crisis, just not with it being Tennant who’ll get to do anything with it.

Lots of good acting in the supporting cast, particularly Sciofoni. De Vergori’s a reasonably likable kid, but it’s because he’s sympathetic, not because he’s good. Instead, because Sciofoni’s an exceptional asshole of a dad.

At the end of the last episode, I was impressed with “Around the World in 80 Days”’s presentation of the time period and thoughtfulness in its characterizations, but at the end of this episode… the show’s going even more places. Particularly with Tennant. It’s probably too early to say, but this performance might be the best one of his I’ve ever seen. There’s something singular about it, which is even more impressive considering he’s doing it in an adaptation of a 150-year-old novel. Albeit an excellent adaptation.

The show’s gearing up to be something special.

Around the World in 80 Days (2021) s01e01

“Around the World in 80 Days” immediately showcases why adapting Victorian novels is a good idea right now. You can do whiz-bang CGI effects for them, but you can also make a white guy the hero and then have marginalized people in the supporting roles and get away with it. The white man was the inarguable king of the Western World. In “World” ’s case, the white guy is David Tennant, and the marginalized folks are Black guy Ibrahim Koma and white woman Leonie Benesch. However, no one really craps on Koma for being Black since he’s also French, and Frenchmen are much more shitting-on-worthy (according to “World”). Meanwhile, Benesch is busting ass to establish herself as a journalist, and her own father (Jason Watkins) is erasing her, giving her a male pseudonym.

Meanwhile, Tennant’s generally incapable and only survives thanks to Koma. And mercenary nuns.

The episode opens with Tennant receiving a postcard with a single word—“Coward”—with no postmark. We’ll find out he’s got a series of these postcards, though it’s unclear if they all have “Coward” written on them, and his fellow rich men think he’s, well, a coward. Koma is a waiter at Tennant’s club, which is why he’s in the story, and then Benesch’s there because dad Watkins is one of Tennant’s fellows at said club. The other important guy at the club is Peter Sullivan, who spends his time trying to humiliate Tennant whenever possible.

Benesch is upset with Watkins because he took her name off an article about how it’s now possible—thanks to technology—to circumnavigate the globe in eighty days. Tennant reads that article and, full of piss and vinegar from the postcard, declares he will attempt such a journey. Sullivan mocks him and publicly bets against him, setting Tennant up for failure. Thanks to some poor personal choices, Koma finds himself in need of a new position and becomes Tennant’s valet—unaware they’ll be traveling the globe—because Tennant’s existing butler, Richard Wilson, is old and useless.

Once Benesch finds out Tennant’s going to attempt the trip, she tells dad Watkins she’s tagging along, and he better not give her a dude’s name in her column recounting the adventure.

All this setup is rapid, and the real action of the episode happens once they get to Paris. The French people getting screwed over by their government. Koma’s been out of the country for some personal reasons—on the run from responsibility—so when they get there, and the police have closed the train station, stalling their trip on the first day, no one’s happy. Tennant’s incapable of fending for himself, Benesch doesn’t realize it’s actually dangerous, and Koma’s just trying to survive seeing revolutionary brother Loic Djani again.

Tennant spends much of the episode passive, only getting his steam going when he realizes Benesch is in danger and he can’t get friend Watkins’s daughter killed. Koma hasn’t been honest with Tennant about his history (or his present situation), so Tennant’s mostly unaware of that angle. But Benesch gets the whole story, which creates an interesting relationship between her and Koma.

It’s all solidly acted—Koma’s the best here, getting to be flashy and proactive while Tennant and Benesch are reactive—with superb production values and surprisingly strong direction from Steve Barron. I’m saying “surprisingly strong” because I only know Barron from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which I don’t remember being well-directed at all. Quite the opposite. But “Around the World in 80 Days” is well-directed, combining a nice sense of humor with harsh reality. I’m not sure what I was expecting—I haven’t read the Jules Verne novel, and if I’ve ever seen another adaptation, it’s been literal decades—but this one is a somber look at classism, sexism, and politics in the late nineteenth century.

The show’s off to a great start.

The Stop Button Guide 52

A critical episode guide discussing the all five of the Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Four shows streaming in 2021 on Disney+. Responses covers WANDAVISION (9 episodes), THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (6 episodes), LOKI (6 episodes), WHAT IF...? (9 episodes), and HAWKEYE (6 episodes). 

The Matrix Revolutions (2003, The Wachowskis)

I understand there are reasons for The Matrix Revolutions. If that one rumor is true, it’s basically Keanu Reeves didn’t want to do sequels forever, and the Wachowskis wanted to do a long-running franchise. Old Internet gossip (oddly more reliably than some later Internet gossip, but still… Internet gossip). And then the costume changes… the Columbine shooting didn’t help with trench coats as a fashion statement. Oh, and then instead of the movies being all about freeing people trapped in their Matrix lives—so if you’re a cop, you’re working for the machine, and the good guys will have to take you out—that action kills a real person. Who, if they were a good person who took the red pill, wouldn’t be a cop. But it’s a person. It’s after 9/11. Cheering killing mindless human-faced zombies… not so easy.

So you make them all programs like TRON. Only they’re sometimes super horny and sweaty.

I get it.

Also, Gloria Foster dying and having to be replaced between the last movie and this movie, even though Revolutions takes place immediately following the last one, Reloaded. I grok it.

It’s also still godawful movie-making.

What happens to Larry Fishburne in the franchise where he was a very big deal in the first movie? He’s barely in it. Demoted to hanging out with the cast introduced in the last movie and having nothing to do with the main plotline he’s around. Though it’s not much better for “lead” Reeves and romantic interest but also action sidekick Carrie-Anne Moss. They’re nowhere near the film’s biggest action set piece. Fishburne doesn’t get to participate in the action (because he’s not a CGI flying, techno-Lovecraftian flying thing, or a machine-gunning version of the Aliens power loader) in the big set-piece. Still, he’s at least ostensibly vital to it.

He’s not because the script instead wants to be about how Harry Lennix is a joyless hard-ass who doesn’t think Reeves will turn out to be Matrix Jesus and save the day. Fishburne’s most significant scene in the movie is his debriefing. The human survivor council has some questions. This time there’s a Black lady (Francine Bell) who gets not just a close-up but also to talk. There are also the pointless old white people—bad seventies sci-fi guy Anthony Zerbe and “why didn’t you stunt cast this part” Robyn Nevin—plus Black man Cornel West doing a cameo. The movie’s just Fishburne getting less and less to do.

Well, except maybe Moss. Moss, who started the franchise with less screen time than the boys but still just as important (and then more important for some other reasons), basically gets put into a freezer. She’s the damsel in distress. Even though she’s the one who hijacks the initial plot.

The movie opens with Reeves still in a coma since Reloaded ended three minutes before and a new captain (David Leonard) leading the B plot. Leonard should have been in Reloaded and may have been in Reloaded, but I’m not checking. I don’t remember him from it, so he mustn’t have had more than two lines because, at three lines, you realize how bad his performance will be. And it just gets worse and worse.

Ditto Ian Bliss, who appeared last time as a counter-revolutionary and potential traitor to the humans. He’s got the film’s most important scene… maybe second important, but it depends. Most important or second most important. And he sucks. He’s comically bad. He’s supposed to be mimicking one of the other actors in the movie, and it’s painfully obvious he’s doing it, but none of the characters notice, so they’re all taken by surprise later on. It makes all the good guys seem like they’re not actually attentive enough to pull off saving the world.

Anyway.

Reeves is in his coma, but not really; he’s in the Matrix, where he learns the programs can love, which changes everything. If they can love, they’re people too. It’s an interesting idea—the value of life extending to artificial life—and probably the only one in the entire movie? Matrix Revolutions doesn’t even try with the philosophical nonsense of the last one. Instead, there’s a bang bang, boom boom solution to things in this one.

Moss and Fishburne have to go save Reeves, returning to visit last movie’s bad guy, Lambert Wilson. The previous film started with the machines due at humanity’s last refuge in thirty-six hours to wipe them out. This movie begins with those same machines due in twelve hours. So when Wilson says, “Didn’t think I’d be a returning villain so soon?” to our heroes… it’s been like three hours since they’ve seen each other. And Wilson’s got an entirely new gang of sidekicks, who are going to do a big fight scene, and then Moss and Fishburne will have to work for him and on and on and on. Until Moss cuts the bullshit and the cliffhanger resolve is all over.

Then it’s just setting up Moss and Reeves to go to the never-before mentioned Machine City, where all the programs live, presumably, under the watchful eye of the MCP—because he’s going to convince them he’s their savior too. Fishburne, Pinkett Smith, Leonard, and still charmlessly in the movie Harold Perrineau are going to the human city to try to stop the first wave of the invasion. They’ve got the only weapon left on the planet to do it. We didn’t see the destruction of the others; Revolutions covers it in a poorly acted exposition dump. Because it’s a bad movie.

The big set-piece is the humans trying to fend off the invading metal octopus monsters while Pinkett Smith tries to make the Kessel Run less than twelve parsecs. There’s a really shitty subtext about it because Lennix, Pinkett Smith’s boyfriend, doesn’t just not think she can do it, he didn’t listen to her when she undoubtedly told him about the times she did it. I get the Fishburne, Lennix, and Pinkett Smith love triangle thing doesn’t really work out because Lennix is risibly bad, and Fishburne and Pinkett Smith repulse each other like magnets in the chemistry department… but why not fix it? Maybe there was a deadline. It’s always good to kill your darlings with a rushed finale; everyone says so.

Again, anyway.

The big battle scene is terrible. This time out, Bill Pope’s photography is slightly better than the second movie, but it’s still unbelievable he’s had other jobs, including doing the excellently photographed original. It’s a mawkish scene, all about macho battlefield stuff while playing with bad eighties toys done in not terrible CGI. Not good CGI, not well-lighted CGI, but not terrible CGI. Not well-directed future war action either. But. The CGI exhibits competence at some base levels. It’s long, it’s boring, and there’s this weird subplot with Nona Gaye and her female sidekick, who very much don’t have macho war movie bonding going on. The movie intentionally gives it to The Not-Feral Kid (Clayton Watson) to do a lousy job with it while Gaye gets action but squat as far as character. Gaye’s bad, but Watson’s much, much worse. It’s just another crappy part of the movie.

Speaking of Not-Feral Kids… there’s a genuinely awful cameo from Bruce Spence. It seems like a Road Warrior reference, making it the only time the Wachowskis fully extend the homage, but Spence is so terrible they really shouldn’t have done it. Revolutions is even worse than the last one. It’s an achievement in missing the target time after time.

And, so, finally, let’s talk Hugo Weaving. The first movie’s break-out performance. The first sequel’s pointless addition amid pointless additions. He’s now the anti-Reeves, wanting to take over the Matrix for himself by turning everyone in the Matrix—presumably humans (we never see it because dead civilians after all) and programs alike. Reeves will have to do a flying kung fu battle with him to save the world.

The flying kung fu battle’s better than you’d expect, given the rest of the movie, but Weaving’s performance isn’t just easily the worst in the film; it’s cartoonish in a way it’s unbelievable Weaving wasn’t trying to make it bad. Like he was out to sabotage the movie. It’s unspeakably bad. And utterly pointless.

The nicest thing to say about the Matrix Revolutions is Reeves, Moss, and Fishburne never embarrass themselves. Reeves and Moss get some saccharine sludge for material, and Fishburne’s got to act opposite Lennix and Leonard, but they make it through professionally. Ditto Mary Alice (replacing Foster), Lambert, Bernard White as a very special program, Gina Torres, and Collin Chou (maybe). Everyone else is bad and worse. And there’s no end to the worse.

Rupert Reid’s particularly annoying as Lennix’s sidekick, not just because he should’ve been there last time, but also because he manages to be even less charismatic than Lennix. You don’t want a performance less charismatic than Lennix’s. It’s a dangerous place.

Bad music from Don Davis.

Not bad editing from Zach Staenberg; he’s doing the best he can with insipid material.

In addition to being an insipid mishmash of action and sci-fi movie nods, kiddie pool depth philosophy, and bad acting, Revolutions is also a really boring version of that movie. Revolutions is bad, disappointing, and bored with itself.

The only bigger “Why?” than “Why watch Matrix Revolutions” is, “Why make Matrix Revolutions.”

At least be honest and call it The Matrix Contractual Obligations.