May’s Movie Review: Hancock

May’s synopsis: I shouldn’t have seen it, but I saw it, and at least writing the review was kind of fun.

May’s rating scale:

MAY!

May?

meh…

meh?

MESS.

 

Maybe I should be glad I saw this movie, because now I have this new, tingly sensation in my brain. The once functional part of my brain I used to watch and process the movie has died. It’s as if all the Scotch whiskey the main character drank and the bad writing and directing seeped into my brain stem and drowned the cells.

And now, latent parts of my grey matter have woken up to compensate. I’m still a little groggy; I get up in the mornings wondering where I am, and then I remember: Oh yeah, I watched that movie, and I can’t get those two hours back. But look here, at this brain monitor – electrical activity at the inner cerebral cortex!

This movie just wasn’t very well made. It was disjointed between scenes, characters, plot. I really couldn’t settle into the story. The acting could have been better if the writing had been good.

I can appreciate the story of a drunk, dysfunctional, destructive superhero and his rehabilitation and reformation. I like the idea of pairs of powerful people whose proximity mortalizes them. But to present it so predictably and piecemeal is downright insulting. The backstory could have been so much more substantial, if only to make the present relationships more effective.

Yes, I could tell outright Charlize Theron had some sort of a relationship with Will Smith. I could tell Jason Bateman would end up crossing paths with Will Smith, and I wondered why Jason didn’t get fired already for his gimmicks about making the world a better place. Then he succeeds as Will Smith’s PR and image consultant? Really?

Then Will Smith turns himself in to the authorities for all the property damage he caused, which is a nice touch of reality, and he spends a short stint in the slammer. That segment should have been done well or not at all. Instead the execution was lukewarm, and the shoddy transitions between jail and the outside world did nothing to improve that.

Then Will Smith becomes beautiful with sideburns and knows how to interact with people, just by staying in jail. FOR TWO WEEKS. Then comes a big stakeout at a bank with lots of blowing up stuff. And a hospital scene with weak villains and emergency fire sprinklers going off. And people almost die. Then Jason Bateman saves the day. And the movie, what little of it he could. It was going to have to come down to him.

Then Will Smith moves to New York because he can’t be near Charlize Theron? Because they’ll DIE? What about the whole time their paths didn’t cross in LA? Did New York get a sudden spike in crime, because Spiderman and Daredevil retired?

Man, what a poopy movie.

Again, I have to fault the writing. The characters were lazy and shallow. I could tell they wanted to be more, to be deeper, to go beyond their kooky one-word triggers that set off their tempers. Since the movie couldn’t quite figure out what to do, the acting sadly followed suit. Not a spandex, suit, though. A frayed, poorly sewn, scrappy suit. That stole two hours of my life and numbed and murdered part of my brain.