THE AVENGERS (Warner Bros. - 1998) Starring Ralph Fiennes, Uma Thurman, Sean Connery, Patrick Macnee, Jim Broadbent, Fiona Shaw Screenplay by Don Macpherson Produced by Jerry Weintraub Directed by Jeremiah Chechick Running time: 89 minutes
*1/2 (out of four stars)
Alternate Rating: D
Note: Some may consider portions of the following text to be spoilers. Be forewarned.
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At the end of the day, those reflecting upon the debacle that is THE AVENGERS would do well to take note that warning clouds loomed on the horizon for the project well before Warner Bros. made the contentious decision to abandon preview press screenings and scrapped plans for a gala premiere. This highly-anticipated film rendition of the cult television show was originally slotted for an early June opening, where it would have gone head-to-head against the rival studios' heavy hitters; its eventual demotion to a less potent mid-August opening was an obvious early indication of the studio's lack of confidence with the picture.
And with good reason. This is a joyless exercise of a film, held together by a barely coherent plot and lacking any semblance of excitement, thrills or wit. Remarkable in its banality and brutally uninvolving, THE AVENGERS is a catastrophic mess which immediately invites comparisons to last year's case study in style over substance, Joel Schumacher's much-loathed BATMAN & ROBIN. (Indeed, both films even feature appalling, ridiculous sequences which find central characters dressed up in fuzzy oversized costumes.)
Uma Thurman, who takes on the salacious role of the catsuit-clad, karate-chopping Emma Peel immortalized by Diana Rigg, was the only bright spot in the aforementioned Schumacher disaster, imbuing her Poison Ivy with a dose of sassiness and sly wit that gave audiences something to smile at amidst the cinematic carnage. Unfortunately, the same can't be said here, where she and cohort Ralph Fiennes (our new John Steed, taking over for Patrick Macnee) demonstrate no appreciable chemistry whatsoever, fatally crippling the picture as they volley fizzling repartee back and forth and trade double-entendres with all the enthusiasm of two actors painfully aware that they're on board a sinking ship. At this rate, usually-splendid actor Mr. Fiennes may never make the transition from Arthouse Apollo to mainstream leading man -- his tepid turn here will make as much of an inroad as his commendably seedy performance in the regrettably-neglected Kathyrn Bigelow film STRANGE DAYS.
The duo *look* the part -- and admittedly THE AVENGERS is, more than most, heavily dependent upon style -- but they're no fun to watch, and I found myself growing increasingly distant and annoyed by the lack of spark between the two cheekily ironic characters as they navigated through the picture's caper-esque plot. When not checking my wristwatch or shifting restlessly in my seat, I began to alleviate the boredom by considering how this all might have played out had the filmmakers chose to go instead with that erstwhile EMMA as our Mrs. Peel -- no, not Kate Beckinsale (although the notion now intrigues me), but Gwyneth Paltrow, who was originally in the running for the part and can veritably handle a spot-on English accent. If nothing else, it'd at least be highly entertaining for the incongruous sight of the vaguely twiggish young actress kicking butt.
The story, such as it is, involves the ever-bemused tandem of Steed and Peel combating the malevolent Sir August de Wynter (Sean Connery), an eccentric aristocrat threatening the safety of the nation with his climate-controlling contraption. (They also sip a lot of tea.) Overlooking some goofy cloning nonsense and quirky hijinx involving our protagonists' superiors, it sounds far better than it plays, and is rendered almost indecipherable by blatant post-production tinkering; it's clearly evident that the picture has been cut to shreds. THE AVENGERS was never about gripping drama, and our heroes accordingly never take villainous Sir August very seriously, but given the lack of cohesion in the plot and the lack of menace conveyed by the buffoonish maniac, it's all decidedly uncompelling. Mr. Connery, who's onscreen barely long enough to register an impression, approaches the role like a man fulfilling a contractual obligation, simultaneously chewing the scenery while unable to hide his disinterest.
At least it all looks good. This is a genuinely handsome production, with fine costume design by Anthony Powell and crisply shot by Roger Pratt. In particular, the gleaming production design by Stuart Craig commands attention, adeptly drawing elements both old and new in order to depict this Great Britain. There are a handful of striking visual moments in the film, including an attack by a swarm of giant robotic bees and a nice shot of Steed and Peel finding a way to walk on water, but the film is so unremittingly dull that even these instances fail to stir interest or raise pulse rates. By the time the film's climax had arrived, my interest was not with the sight of Steed and Sir August slugging it out amidst crashing waves and thundering rain, but with the quickest escape route from the theatre.
Not coincidentally, the enticing bits of visual bravura were the shots assembled into the movie's remarkable trailer, a savvy piece of work which ironically is infinitely more appealing that the feature film itself; the first promo which made the rounds in early spring is probably my favourite studio trailer so far this year. It's everything that THE AVENGERS is not -- saucy, clever, engaging, and entertaining. A crushing disappointment, the film is one of the worst outings of the year -- too drearily awful to be savoured as gleefully bad, too polished to overlook its deficiencies. There may be upcoming pictures that are even more lifeless than THE AVENGERS, but I sure hope not.
- Alex Fung
email: aw220@freenet.carleton.ca
web : http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~aw220/
-- Alex Fung (aw220@freenet.carleton.ca) | http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~aw220/ "...a first screenplay unaccompanied by a powerful agent or industry sponsor is generally a pathetic fetus of a film, nothing more." - Andrew Sarris
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