Rick and I went to see War of the Worlds recently. Having thoroughly enjoyed the book and the 1953 movie version (entitled The War of the Worlds), and obviously having been drawn in by the previews which showed some impressive special effects, we scampered to the local theater early one afternoon to catch a matinée.
Yes, we actually went despite Tom Cruise’s recent insanity and attempts to push on the masses his own limited and extremely dangerous views on mental health. Actors should learn that their fame in no way makes them an expert, especially considering their career is based on deception (acting is, by definition, lying and pretending to be someone you aren’t — you know, like a mental health expert). Anyway…
This movie was weak at best. The special effects are cool but not impressive (what you see in the previews is the extent of their ability to impress; the rest is simply common). There are flaws galore with this interpretation of the original book The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells. There are many flaws with the movie itself and the story it tries to tell (why, if we see Boston has already been laid waste by the aliens, do we see the family completely and perfectly coifed and unsoiled at the end of the movie — in a neighborhood and house completely untouched by the devastation around them?). And what the hell was Tim Robbins’ character about other than a messy conglomeration of three separate characters from the book who, sloppily put together in this interpretation, present as a completely incoherent muddle?
There are no significant battles to be seen despite inferences in the film that America’s military has been destroyed easily (don’t tell me about it in a movie like this; show me something… please!). There are no significant turns in the story to warrant this retelling (no surprises and a sloppy interpretation of Wells’ original don’t mean you should make a movie). Spielberg does a terrible job of movie making (surprising, I know). Certain aspects of the story, as retold here, make absolutely no sense (if an alien species was capable of putting these enormous machines into the planet at least a million years ago, one could — and should — safely assume they would have considered the microbiological impact of their presence; if an alien species put the attack machines in the ground a million or so years ago, wouldn’t their technology have advanced in the interim and wouldn’t their attack be carried out from a safe distance — from orbit, for instance?). It’s one thing to assume, as Wells did, that aliens wouldn’t know about viruses and bacteria if they’d never been to our planet and didn’t have the same kind of threats on their home world, but Spielberg makes it clear they were here a long time ago — and that means they did know about our microbiological threats and would — should— have prepared for it.
As with all movies, there’s a degree of assumed suspension of disbelief. In this case, that gets thrown out the window because of the many flaws in the story.
Despite his personal mayhem of late, I am impressed with Tom Cruise’s performance. His character is understated and realistic. There’s no overstated, altruistic heroism. There’s no “saving the day” at the last minute with some completely ludicrous maneuver. I shudder to think, given his recent real-world idiocy, that he’s the high point of this movie — but them’s the facts, I’m afraid.
This movie is definitely worth seeing on the big screen so long as you don’t mind leaving with the clear knowledge that you’ve just wasted the money you spent.