Armageddon A Review by Fred M. Hung
In an era bereft of such mythical heroes as Sir Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, Hollywood attempts to fill the void with tales of ordinary men thrust into extraordinary circumstances. The pragmatic 90s have all but eliminated the magic of kings and queens. Thus instead of Lancelot and Knights, we have … Harry Stamper and oil drillers?
Armageddon is the latest product from Jerry Bruckheimer who brought us The Rock, Crimson Tide, Con Air, and Top Gun to name a few. This time he is again teamed with Michael Bay, director of The Rock, to bring the story of a fierce "Global-killer" asteroid on a direct trajectory with Earth. Since comparisons to this season's earlier film about asteroids is inevitable, the simplest way to describe this one would be Deep Impact on steroids.
Much of the Bruckheimer trademarks are present, helicopters in formation, FBI agents in their dark suits, dark jackets, and dark suburbans, crisp military salutes, motorcades of government vehicles from the horizon, and stalwart men marching in unison into their finest hour. Themes of honor and duty are well represented. All protagonists unequivocally volunteer for missions of no return. American garrison flags can be seen on rustic homes from small town Kansas to large hangars in NASA. Optimists will call Armageddon patriotic, detractors will call it propaganda. Whatever the case, none can deny that the film visually spectacular. Bay, a former rock video director, is a genius at creating incredibly slick imagery. From shepherds in Scotland, to Muslims in India, parts of Armageddon will rival AT&T and American Express commercials. Combine all these elements with an adrenaline pulsating soundtrack by Aerosmith and others, Bruckheimer has again brought us the testosterone flick of the year.
Despite the sheen and marketing blitz, Armageddon can not compensate for its overriding weakness, unidimensional characters. Bruckheimer and Bay entertainingly introduce us to men who are mankind's saviors, but never bother to tell us who they really are. Bruce Willis, the leader of the motley crew, never transcends the terse and grimacing tough guy. Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler are the star-crossed lovers. Billy Bob Thorton is a Sen. Fred Thompson clone. Will Patton is the loyal sidekick. Steve Buscemi again reprises his stereotype as the Shakespearean clown but this time in space. Although Armageddon proceeds at a breakneck pace, the script accords so little for character development. Consequently, it is difficult to sympathize, or empathize for that matter, with the characters' fates.
No unwritten law exists that states testosterone action and character development are mutually exclusive. In fact it was also Bruckheimer and Bay who gave us Ed Harris' complex and tortured anti-villain in the Rock. It is Armageddon's ambitious scope, so many characters, so many events, that prevented such exposition. Moments of emotion are too easily eclipsed by explosions.
That being said, the film is by no means a failure. While certainly transparent and mindless, Armageddon had me saluting cab drivers as I exited the film. Personal bias – I live for images of flags waving in the wind, salutes, self-sacrificing men, and F-16s flying missing man formations. Bruckheimer and Bay are no Chaucer and Homer, nor do they pretend to be. Armageddon is simply meant to rally an audience, for 2.5 hours, to surrender belief and cheer for 8 men who are willing to sacrifice themselves for a greater good. This isn't poetry, but it's still a lot of fun.
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