War of the Worlds

Walking out of War of the Worlds, I was certain that Steven Spielberg had made the film he intended to make – for better or worse. I think this film will likely catch people off-guard. With the name Spielberg on the marquee, one expects a certain thing: big action scenes, stunning special effects, and that certain bit of whimsy that has made him the most successful director of pop entertainment in the history of film. Spielberg gives us the first two in spades, but the third one – we’re left aching for it. Hopefully he rushes to get that last Indiana Jones out there.

In my early teens I developed a morbid fascination with the end of the world in all its manifestations. The early press for War of the Worlds strongly hinted that the film would fire a fastball straight into my sensibility’s wheelhouse. There has been no shortage of cinematic apocalypses, from The Terminator to Independence Day to last year’s The Day After Tomorrow, but each of them focus on the heroics of the End Times – man’s redemption in the face of the darkest of hours. This made for great summer entertainment – even I enjoyed Will Smith’s cocky swagger in Independence Day for what it was – but none of these films came close to my vision of the end of the world. War of the Worlds does. Frighteningly so.

Spielberg has said that he never would have made this film if not for 9/11. Suddenly H.G. Wells’ tale of an alien invasion seemed much more poignant. The influence is quite clear in Spielberg’s imagery; the dust-covered survivors, the dazed terror, and the fleeing masses all recall that horrible day. The images work because we vaguely recall seeing something very similar on September 11, but they never take us out of the film. Spielberg is not heavy-handed with his references.

I hope Spielberg gets credit for the balls it took to take some of the dramatic chances he does in this film. In Tom Cruise’s Ray Ferrier, we have an utterly despicable protagonist. In fact, Cruise’s recently acquired bizarro public persona actually added an appropriate dimension to his portrayal of this deadbeat dad. A manboy in perpetual midlife crisis, he drives a fast, loud car, keeps an engine block on his kitchen table, and turns a game of catch with his teenage son into a pissing contest (that ends with one of the few funny moments in the film). “That’s only half of what I got,” he says after whipping a fastball at his boy’s skull. This guy is 100 percent prick, and putting this character front and center of a major Hollywood blockbuster (even with Cruise as his avatar) takes guts and I actually found Cruise rather compelling in the role.

But outshining everyone in the cast is young Dakota Fanning as Rachel Ferrier, a (my God) 11 year-old who I would put in the top 5 of actresses working today. I pray that she gets through her awkward stages without the usual child actor difficulties, because her talent should make her one of the greatest actresses to grace the screen. I’m hoping we’re seeing the creation of another Jodie Foster rather than Tatum O’Neal. There is not a dishonest moment from her in this entire film, and what is most remarkable is that a girl who is so exceptionally intelligent and mature for her age never betrays the fact that she is still a child and in need of protection from her father. It’s through this earthly sprite – with her expressive eyes and delicate features – that we feel the real horror of this film. This is – no shit – Academy award caliber work from this girl. Through the whole movie we just want this poor soul to be safe, and we’re infuriated with her father when he can’t even give her the illusion of comfort. We want to steal her away from this callous, thoughtless man.

“Are we going to be okay?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

There is an absolutely heartbreaking scene in the middle of the film where Rachel begs for a lullaby and her father, having none in his repertoire, must resort to a cheap pop song about a car.

** SPOILER ALERT**

The final moments of the film have Rachel running into her mother’s arms and we aren’t thinking “Thank goodness she’s escaped those aliens.” We’re thinking “Thank God she’s escaped her father.”

** END OF SPOILER**

It takes guts for Spielberg to end the film with that kind of sentiment, but unfortunately I can’t say that guts equals dramatically satisfying filmmaking.

I’m very conflicted about recommending this film. There is so much great stuff to be had here. Spielberg throws down the gauntlet immediately with a terrifying lightning storm that ends with Ray and his daughter hiding under the kitchen table. From there the film ratchets up the terror for a good hour and a half with amazing set pieces of the immergence of the tripods, an absolutely exhilarating long take on the highway, and an alien attack on a ferry. This is all amazing stuff with Spielberg at the top of his game.

One particularly poignant scene involves Ray and his children managing a mass of refugees in a mini-van that managed to survive the EMP of the lightning storm. This scene hit me the hardest of any in the film. So much of our religious culture sees the apocalypse as a glorious time for man’s redemption. I have never bought that line. The end of the world will be mankind’s biggest fuck-up, proof positive of the appetite for self-destruction disturbingly inherent in our wiring. What this mass of humanity does to Ray and his family during this sequence strikes harder than anything we see from the aliens in the film. The final punctuation mark in this scene will put a cold spike through your heart. That is Spielberg’s aim in this film – ultra-realism. It is ugly, unforgiving, and relentless. This is closer to Schindler’s List than E.T. Much closer.

Despite how this all may sound, the one thing I can say about this section of the film is it is absolutely riveting. During my screening I was surrounded by quite a few chatty viewers, but when the lightning began to strike I did not hear a chirp out of them for the rest of the film. I did not move for most of the film, my eyes and mouth wide in astonishment. Spielberg keeps the tension building and building until…

Well, two scenes spoil the film. Not completely. I still think the first two chapters of the film are worth seeing, but the first scene deflates the tension built up over the previous hour and the ending leaves the audience cold. Spielberg is one of the smartest filmmakers out there, and I’d love to chat with him about this film. For a man with such a sharp dramatic acuity, these scenes are somewhat inexcusable (despite their roots in the original novel).

The first scene involves my favorite chapter in the book, The Man on Putney Hill. In the book the narrator and this man have a compelling philosophical discussion about how to proceed against the machines. It is a fascinating exchange, the most memorable moments in the book. In the film, this mysterious man (played by Tim Robbins) is turned into a borderline psychotic (with inexplicable hints of pedophilia). There is no compelling philosophy to his ranting. He’s just a nut. A nut hiding in a basement. It is a poor replacement.

After Ray and Rachel take shelter in the nut’s basement, the film never recovers. Despite an intrusion by some sort of tentacle camera and podless aliens, the relentless tension of the previous hour evaporates with such remarkable force that my brother and myself both nearly fell asleep. After that, the film coasted to its inevitable conclusion. Even a scene that had Ray taking down one of the tripods felt anti-climactic. That scene should have had the crowd on its feet, but the time for such a reaction had come and gone.

I’m also shocked that Spielberg chose to keep Wells’ notoriously unsatisfying ending. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read the book, but the weaknesses inherent in that conclusion play even worse on film. The deux es machina employed by Wells removes the protagonists from the climax. Spielberg’s efforts to inject his hero into the final thralls of the aliens feel contrived, and the scene itself is gratuitous; the demise of the aliens is well on its way before Ray points out a revelatory flock of birds. Having the main characters excised from the climax of the invasion makes sense from a story perspective, but it is dramatically unfulfilling watching it play out on screen. I had hoped Spielberg would imagine something better for us this time around. I’m sad that he didn’t.

Final Grade: C*

* The film would get an A up to the point where Tim Robbins shows up. That might seem indecisive, but that C really hurt to type.