Terminator Salvation

Rating: 70%

I won’t say that “Terminator: Salvation” is a bad film, but it is certainly not a good one. For every positive thing it has in its favor, it has an equal and opposite flaw that wrestles it to the ground. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a movie break so even, do so little, especially with concepts so weighty and a star like Christian Bale at the helm. Well, he’s not really at the helm, but that’s neither here nor there. Hm. “Neither here nor there.” That may be the best review I can give this thing. I won’t get into the plot, because I never cared about it, but suffice to say humanity is at war with machines. Post-apocalyptic Mad-Max type of thing, you saw the opening credits to “T2,” right?

To its credit, “Salvation” does right by Cameron on the technical end, the nightmarish warzone that Jim dreamed up in a few tantalizing shots is breathlessly realized here. The washed out chrome color of the cinematography is perfect, the landscapes are beautifully decayed, and the machines are sadistic monsters whose design fits in with the first films while also blooming in new directions. From a production standpoint, this is one of the most successful tonal pieces Hollywood has made in years. The rust, blood and gasoline are absolutely tangible, and every significant department, from wardrobe to visual effects, turns in Academy-worthy work.

Which is why the film’s inability to lift off is even more of a disappointment. The story, which had within it potential for all kinds of deep philosophical layers, is never arresting for a single second. I would have been more than happy with these vacant characters if they had been twisted and mangled for psychological reasons, but no one on this project has the courage to do anything with these people. Christian Bale huffs and hollers to the best of his ability, but director McG isn’t giving him anywhere to go, nothing to sink his teeth into. Sam Worthington, who the studio heads seem to be pushing as the next big thing, is absolutely hollow and totally forgettable. Maybe this guy has talent, but I didn’t see it here. It’s not totally his fault, the script calls for him to have this weird change of heart that the filmmakers never earn, and nothing irritates me more than arbitary plot arcs. This is a crippling flaw for the movie, which depends on Worthington’s character as its emotional core.

Equally troubling is the constant sensation in the back of your mind that the movie just doesn’t make any sense. There are unresolved plot threads, story elemenets which keep lingering and never pay off, and decisions made by the characters which feel…wrong. This movie contains some very serious plot problems. Maybe I’m just crazy, I sincrerely hope I’m just missing something, but it felt like the damned thing had a laundry list of logic goofs. (SPOILER) Why is it necessary for John Connor to invade the machine city by himself, especially considering the fact that he calls for back-up once he’s in there? And why are there consoles perfectly fitted for human beings inside said machine city? And how in the hell did hundreds of human POWs stroll right out of the city once Connor released their prison cells? Where are the dozens of guards with miniguns we kept seeing? I’m sure McG would tell me Worthington’s character disabled them somehow, but I don’t think the movie sufficiently earned that. Also bad: I don’t buy for a moment the idea that the machines could have somehow predicted who Sam Worthington’s character would meet, and what he would say to them. Their whole plan depends on him bringing John Connor, by himself, back to a specific place, but the way in which that actually happened was a ridiculous Rube Goldberg device of a narrative that no sentient being could possibly anticipate.

Here’s the worst offender: Kyle Reese is John Connor’s eventual father, right? The machines just want to kill John Connor, that’s their whole goal, they’ve sent like a dozen things into the past to try and do it. Halfway through the film, they successfully abduct Kyle Reese. Then they realize who he is, and he’s whisked away to…a private cell. What? Kill him! Kill him immediately! It would have cost them three bullets, and John Connor would have ceased to exist! What in the hell did they sit around waiting to lure Christian Bale into the city for? They’ve got his dad before he was ever conceived! Shoot him! And don’t you even think of telling me they “couldn’t be sure it would work” or something. That is ridiculous for two reasons: firstly, why not try? Secondly, the entire first “Terminator” movie was dedicated to the idea that wiping out your parents to prevent you from existing does work. The whole series is based on that kind of fatalism. That, to me, is such a massive, gaping plothole that nothing in the world can rectify it. It’s a crippling blow. (SPOILER OVER)

The tone of the acting also went weird. Christian Bale consistently blew past his mark, making his voice gruffer than it needed to be, shouting when a whisper would have worked better; Worthington escapes this fate only by being too squinty and hollow to elicit much of anything. Michael Ironside, that wonderful character actor, is a ridiculous cartoon, strutting around in a poorly designed submarine command deck like some kind of peacock. If I asked the director when his character was born, or where he comes from, I’ll bet you ten dollars he couldn’t tell me, because no one took the time to care about this guy and give him reasons for anything. You may say to me, “Let it go, Andrew,” but I refuse. This character’s role in the film is incredibly important, and failing to flesh him out is a fat, conspicuous error. I blame all of this on McG, whose direction of the actors feels desperate, anxious, unsure. Anton Yelchin turns in the only really solid male performance in the film, and good for him.

It saddens me that this film more or less cancels itself out. For every thrilling action sequence, gorgeous piece of set design, or inspired bit of camera work, there is a dead character, a hollow scene, a gaping plot hole. The end result is a film you enjoy but don’t appreciate, taste but don’t savor. The spectacle of the thing is effective enough that you will probably enjoy yourself, but by the time you’re in the parking lot you’ll be annoyed at how meaningless it all was, and then you’ll forget it. I feel bad being so harsh on a film McG worked so hard to make real, but I fear that “Terminator Salvation” is the ultimate opportunity for him to look in the mirror and grimly regard what is there: a master of style, but not much else. This was supposed to be the movie where he erased “Charlie’s Angels” from our minds forever, but instead he reminded me of it all the more. All he has done is trade one aesthetic for another, but McG clearly believes that “Terminator Salvation” is somehow different from his other movies. It isn’t.