The “silly gorefest” -– as a colleague calls it
–- that is the 1990 version of “Total Recall” is a subversive high-comedy of
outlandish action indulgence and excess, cranked to 111 and one more. It’s a classic mixing
of Schwarzenegger, the unstoppable action giant who ruled the box office, and Paul Verhoeven, the
director of satirical over-the-top grisly violent films a la “RoboCop” that
wink at film violence and American macho chest-beating even as more shit is
blown up and arms are ripped off bad guys. With a one-liner retort hitting
every minute. In short, I love it. And watch it at least once
a year, maybe twice.
Anyone who likes action or sci-fi film knows
the story. Schwarzenegger plays Douglas Quaid, a lug-head TV news addict construction
worker who knows deep in his skull he’s meant for something “special,” more so
than being married to Sharon Stone. (That in itself is hilarious.) Quaid dreams
of Mars every night, and a mysterious woman he knows only in a state of R.E.M.
In this romp, Mars is the source of much war and mayhem because of
an energy source, a theme of the Middle East relevant 22 years ago, and damn
relevant today, post Bushes, H.W. and W.
I digress. A subway car ad promises Quaid an
“ego trip” to Mars courtesy of the company Rekall. See, the trip is all in your
head. The ultimate virtual reality Stay-cation, if you will, before the Internet. Quaid jumps like a
starry-eyed child into buying a silly 007 “Spy Game”-extras package the Rekall used-car-salesman
slick prick offers. Mr. Slick promises Quaid by the end of his “vacation,” the
latter will have saved the planet, killed all the bad guys, and scooped the hot
girl. “Sign me Up!” Quaid practically drools.
Of course, Quaid wakes up just as his dream
session is to begin, realizing his cover as a secret super-spy from none-other-than Mars has
been blown and everyone is out to kill him in an intergalactic conspiracy that
focuses on him as the most important man in the galaxy. “Get your ass to Mahz,”
Quaid -- who isn’t even actually boring construction worker Quaid, but a
resistance fighter named Hauser -- says and does. To himself. The rest is relentless action, mutant aliens, and gasping for air on the red rocky dust outside.
It’s that moment where Mr. Slick promises Quaid
he’ll be the hero that “Recall” really hits its glorious hands-down genius
cruising speed as several more bit-players throughout the film tell
us exactly what will happen, what has happened, and mock the whole affair. One
character, a lab tech, gives away the final scene in a barely audible aside. Later, a fat, blandly pale geek openly calls “Bullshit!”
on the entire plot to Quaid/Schwarzenegger’s face. Not just of this film, but
every action film ever made, since time began. It’s akin to hearing a film critic second guessing
the movie as it plays on screen.
Stone – before “Basic Instinct” -- is just
amazing here, veering from sympathetic “wife” one second to banshee-wild killer
psycho the next. There’s this devilishly funny ongoing joke that Stone as an
evil spy posing as Quaid’s Earth-bound spouse “enjoyed” her assignment quite
well, and her husband –- the bald, skinny main enforcer for the whole
intergalactic conspiracy against Quaid –- isn’t happy about it, not with his
ambiguously gay henchmen sidekick snickering aloud. Michael Ironside as the villain is genius at playing evil and slow burns as you see him
thinking, “What if she… ?!?” Talk about nervy humor.
Let’s
not forget how good Schwarzenegger is here, how smart for him to completely
lampoon his Macho Man box office streak, even dressing in drag, and do it so
smoothly and effortlessly, that I dare say 90 percent of his fan club never
even picked up on the joke. He helped shepherd this film into reality, even
suggesting the mastermind spy posing as a day laborer track. The man’s never
been better, period. Fact. Even in “Terminator.”
Bonus points: The whole production could be, most likely is, a
trippy head trick. Is all the action inside Doug’s head, as Rekall promised? Decide
for yourself. I think so, going back to the pasty fat guy and all his
predictions, and that final scene where the sun light hits like bliss. Or a
lobotomy. But that’s the real cool factor here, satire included -- this is an
action film worthy of fun debate. “Inception”
plays like a head-trippy grand-nephew. if you want to ignore it, or cannot see it, the film still is an “A”-grade blast.
Which
brings me to the remake. Now in theaters, playing in PG-13 safe non-glory, as I
write this. Or, actually, it is bombing in theaters as I write this. Two weeks out.
Actually,
hold off a minute, “Total Recall” – both of them – is (umm, are?) loosely (very
loosely) based on the Philip K. Dick classic short story, “We Can Remember It
for you for Wholesale.” In it, an office drone type has dreams of spy
adventures on Mars, and like Quaid goes to a virtual reality company named Rekal for
the same spy dream package. Quail -– not Quaid, the surname name of the hero from the book was
changed in 1990 to avoid political association with then-VP Dan Quayle -- also
wakes up as his dream implant begins, realizing his cover as a Big Brother-type
assassin has been blown, and all hell breaks loose. The kicks come fast. Super-kick: Quail has many bizarre pasts hidden deep inside his noodle, now back from the void. Dick ends
his story quick and open, leaving the reader to go fan fiction in his or
her head. It’s a corker, and could make a damn fine and faithful movie one day,
a sci-fi offspring of “Memento,” with an unlikely nerdy hero.
So,
why the Star Circle Planet Number Sign Exclamation Point did the movie studio –
Sony, the dicks who just remade “Spider-Man” after a mere decade for crying out loud -- and director Len Wiseman (of the
“Underworld” series and the shitty and soulless “Live Free and Die Hard”)
virtually ignore every chance to go Dick and go smart with a whole new tale,
with a whole new title? Money? Cluelessness? Laziness? What the hell ever.
I
purchased my movie ticket hoping/thinking surely this isn’t a
point-for-point rehash of what Schwarzenegger, Verhoven, and Stone did so
perfectly damn well, and with miles of wit. But that it is, sans wit, and a stone-cold
serious and heavy-handed rehash with no purpose or comment on
today’s world or movies. It not only rips off every single plot twist and kink from the 1990 version, but also stands a clear forger in spirit and look and design of “Blade Runner” and its dystopian, post-world’s-end set and
mood. “Blade Runner,” by the way, is its own mind-trippy sci-fi classic film,
and based on a Dick story. Also ripped off: “Fifth Element,” with its ultra-packed,
multi-layered cities stretching up into the air, and the cult film “The Cube”
with shifting elevators. There are more films aped, too.
So,
on a future Earth near ruined by chemical warfare, Douglas Quaid (Colin
Farrell) is a factory worker who builds “I, Robot”-type law enforcement robots,
living in what we consider Australia and working in daily shifts in what we
consider England. Do not ask about the commute, it has to do with an elevator that runs through the Earth, and the entire thing is just flat laugh-out-loud ridiculous, and the writers forget the rules of the contraption as the film slogs on. Those robots, by the way, are striking similar to the Storm Troopers from a certain George Lucas film series. Shocker, I know.
This Quaid – carbon copy to 1990 Quaid -- also is unhappy with his life. Wants something more, a thrilling adventure as a spy. On his commutes, he reads Ian Fleming’s James Bond book, “The Spy Who Love Me.” (O.K., I admit, that is funny.) This Quaid also dreams of Mars, spies, and a mysterious woman (Jessica Biel here). He wakes up next to Kate Beckinsale, and is still unhappy. Off to Rekall, he goes, too. You know, the rest.
This Quaid – carbon copy to 1990 Quaid -- also is unhappy with his life. Wants something more, a thrilling adventure as a spy. On his commutes, he reads Ian Fleming’s James Bond book, “The Spy Who Love Me.” (O.K., I admit, that is funny.) This Quaid also dreams of Mars, spies, and a mysterious woman (Jessica Biel here). He wakes up next to Kate Beckinsale, and is still unhappy. Off to Rekall, he goes, too. You know, the rest.
The
changes upfront are several but not enough: There’s no getting of ass to Mahz.
This story is Earth bound. In so many ways. The wife and enforcer bits have
been combined, so Beckinsale plays both Stone and Ironside. She’s good,
but when paired against Biel, I could not tell the woman apart. All the gotch’yas and double-crosses remain intact.
I longed for one major change, a zag where the 1990 version zigged. This isn’t a movie. It’s a product birthed by bean-counters who know the teens out there know no better, and
sucker film fans such as myself will pluck money down to see
the film of the week.
Look,
Farrell is a fine actor. Ever see “In Bruges”? I love that film. Here, the gods bless him, Farrell -– all reaction -- is lost
amid the $200 million special effects and art direction, another cog in the
wheel. Any actor could have played this part. (The 1990 version demanded
Schwarzenegger.) He just can’t compete. Schwarzenegger -- all 600 pounds or whatever of him -- held the screen. Easily.
Some bits stand out -– a literal hand
phone that is Owellian to the max, mainly -– but every other minute is a
reminder that if one is going to remake a brilliant, witty classic of action cinema,
you better have enough guns and guts off screen as you do
onscreen. This retread wimps out with no guts at all, PG-13, indeed. And to think, a few months ago, “Conan the Barbarian” also was remade. I have forgotten that, too. Why the hate on Ahnuld? Oh, and, Hollywood, do not touch freaking touch “Kindergarten Cop,” please. Never. OK?
The
1990 version: A. The 2012 version: C-
No comments:
Post a Comment