Daisy Ridley and John Boyega escape mild peril |
The numerous scriptwriters also reprise the dime book Jungian theme of a character succumbing to his shadow self: this time Princess Leia and Han Solo spawn Adam Driver, whose performance gives the film its only spasm of psycho-mythic intensity, embraces the dark side of the force instead of comely Daisy Ridley for reasons comprehensible only to true believers. Ridley and fellow newcomer John Boyega fail to register, but then so do Oscar Isaac, Domhnall Gleeson, and Max von Sydow. Methinks the culprit is a leaden script.
When Lucas helmed the last trilogy, he ran aground in his expository scenes: henchman haranguing each other or Natalie Portman and Hayden Christensen mooning on a balcony with ridiculous dialogue out of some forgotten Biblical epic with Natalie Wood and Tab or Jeffrey Hunter. Lucas replays scenes from his favorite pulp films as much as Tarantino, but in a passive, not antic fashion. Abrams gives his crack at the franchise a little more youthful zest, particularly in a superbly directed action sequence that surveys and punctuates the PG-13 carnage with a circle dolly.
Unfortunately, Carrie Fisher seems embalmed, not nearly as lively as in Cronenberg's Maps to the Stars. Harrison Ford is embarrassing in the action bits. I remember when John Wayne was past his prime and I felt sorry for the horses he mounted as they buckled under his weight, but he always redeemed even his most ridiculous roles of the 70s with humility and self-mockery. Ford's persona is largely humorless and cocky, much tougher to pull off as you get older. Ford hasn't appeared in a decent movie since Air Force One in 1997. I was glad to see Han Solo bumped off here so I don't have to worry about Ford's on-set safety, but there is always the next Indiana Jones role with which to flog dead horses. (5/15/16)
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