Yes, you will be unprepared... about how terrible this movie is. No stars- see anything else.

sucker punch (suk’r puh-nch) v.  1. A blow or assault made without warning.  2. A harmful act that comes as a surprise and without provocation.  3. A bitch move.

Oddly enough, this aptly describes the experience of watching Sucker Punch.  Who would have thought that the film’s title was more of a summation of the how one was going to feel over the course of 109 minutes?

Of course, criticizing big-budgeted films is easy.  These film are often mostly- if not entirely- visual with little going in terms of story or character, but many can still be fun to watch, be it with an open appreciation for the ridiculous or the simple pleasure of turning your mind off and having a good time (often times, it is both).  Others are simply bad, be it because of stiff acting, stale dialogue, flaccid story or just too many action sequences that render the film boring and repetitive.  But every so often, there comes a film whose poor qualities are encapsulated by a puzzling high opinion of itself that places it in the ranks of Transformers 2 and The Last Airbender as being truly terrible films.

Few expected Zack Snyder’s Sucker Punch to be anything other than another one of his cinematic graphic novels projected on the big screen.  Snyder does very well with taking comic book panels and putting them up on screen, but his lack of everything else has become more and more evident with every film he makes.

Although all of Snyder’s previous films have been adapted from other mediums, Sucker Punch is his first original film; “original” as in he came up with the story on his own and co-wrote the script with Steve Shibuya.  For the reason, Sucker Punch is the culmination of everything Snyder has been working towards, and because the director is no longer anchored by source material, it highlights all his strengths and weaknesses.  Unfortunately, the weaknesses take over, and Snyder’s strengths crumble without any pre-drawn pictures on which to rely.

After surviving an attempted sexual assault from her stepfather, Baby Doll (Emily Browning) is sent to a mental hospital, which she imagines to be a Forties era burlesque parlor.  When she dances, Baby Doll then enters another hyper daydream in which she and her fellow patients/dancers battle various armies and villains to retrieve objects that will set them free back in the real world.

Lord, where do I even begin?  For one, The Man of Steel is going to be terrible. 

Several people will attack the film for ripping off Inception, but that would be unfair; levels of reality have always been around in films, be it in dreams (see: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) or in the digital domain (see: Tron).  What people should attack is how poorly Sucker Punch handles its use of dream levels, amongst many, many other things.

If a film is going to involve dream levels, it is imperative that the film keeps a firm grip on reality.  Granted, dreams have the benefit of being fantasy, but like any story or plot, events and actions have to be connected to one another; for as complicated as Inception got, the structure of the various dreams were linear and well connected with one another.  Sucker Punch is not all that concerned with its structure, or how its various dream levels and actions all synch up on the other end of the looking glass; cool things happen for the sake of being cool things, and they all connect for no other reason than “because.”

The plot of the film revolves around Baby Doll finding five objects that will get her and her friends out of the mental hospital/strip club.  The girls retrieve these objects when Baby Doll (I hate that name, and I hate having to say it repeatedly) dances, whose supposedly ethereal movements entrance her male onlookers.  Of course, we never see Baby Doll dance because she goes into another dream world in which her and the ole’ gang do battle against various big baddies and thus earn the object at hand.  Of course, these fantasy battles are irrelevant and superfluous; her friends are just taking things while no one is looking.  Actually, that sums up the film rather well: every time the film becomes uninteresting, the movie wanders off into a flashier, but still boring daydream.

Of course, in an action-fantasy film, every one is more concerned with the presentation, the fantasy, the “cool stuff,” and not all that concerned with how everything fits together.  Unfortunately, the dreams themselves are all hiding to nothing, as all the visual spectacle- the stuff Snyder should be good at- is an amalgamation of dozens of other stories and styles we have seen before, not to mention done better too.

The world of Sucker Punch offers little true imagination or wonder, and Baby Doll’s disconnected dream worlds are little more than cut-and-pasted collages.  The various worlds in the film look like live action anime or anachronistic film noir, but neither are provided a unique spin by Snyder.  The various missions carried out in these worlds feature robot minions that look just like those in I, Robot, trench warfare that looks like Call of Duty gameplay, airplane chases that look straight out of Heavy Metal and Mordor from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.  All in all, the backdrop for the action in the film is about as interchangeable and predictable as first person shooter video game maps, except way less fun.

This is Browning's "range." Enjoy.

The acting, if not the use of the film’s characters, is about as stale as one can get.  Emily Browning has one face through the film- a sad, pained pout- and the whole gang regurgitates heist/prison escape group talk without an ounce of real gusto.  Each of the girls go far below and beyond archetypes or one dimensional filler roles; they are just background.  Their true function, of course, is to look sexy and engage in the action, but even that rendered dull and boring.  Mostly, the girls just strut toward battle or perform open-legged spins in slow motion, thus giving us more booty short-wrapped money shots and less of anything else.

With so much nothing and pilfering from other, better films, it may seem unusual that the sweet, sweet cherry resting on top of this sundae of suck is the soundtrack.  The music that accompanies the action are awful cover songs or, maybe even worse, remixes.  Yes, even the music is unimaginative, unoriginal and poorly executed, which- I suppose- is appropriate given the film at hand.  Songs from the Smiths, the Beatles, Bjork, Eurythmics and the Pixies are turned into moody, overly produced trance pieces with ethereal, breathy vocals to boot.  As if watching this atrocity was not enough, Sucker Punch takes great songs and makes them all sound like the Evanescence tracks off the Daredevil soundtrack.

Although the Razzies are not going to be around for another year, it seems as though their front-runner has already made its way into theaters everywhere.  Sucker Punch fancies itself as the next great fantasy epic, but instead it just throws a generation’s worth of pop culture to the wall and sees if anything will stick.  Instead of enjoying yourself, you find yourself watching vapid, pop-portentous screenshots too self-involved with itself to offer an experience.  All in all, Sucker Punch is a bitch move.

The following quote applies to every frame of this film: "What you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul. "

Though it lacks some hard-hitting, Bronson-approved violence, it is oddly thought provoking. 3 out of 4

Charles Bronson and director Michael Winner are most famous for their work on the Death Wish series, which set the tone for shoot ‘em up revenge movies for years to come.  The Mechanic, in which Bronson plays a hit man for a criminal organization, may carry similar bang-bang expectations, but many will be surprised that the film is a bit slower and more clever than anything the two did in Death Wish.

Arthur Bishop (Bronson) is a hit man who designs his hits to look like commonplace accidents, much like a contract-killing MacGyver.  After an old family friend is killed, the man’s son Steve (Jon-Michael Vincent) asks Bishop to take him under his wing.

Most of the “training” we see in the film involves lectures on planning, organization, and personal philosophy instead of extreme target practice, which appropriately fits the tone of the film.  Much of what Bishop does is research, observation and careful planning, which makes for a pretty lame action movie.  Then again, The Mechanic is not an action movie; at least, not the kind we’re used to.  Films in the Seventies tended to be character driven while the action filled in the gaps, not the other way around.

For example, there is virtually no dialogue for the first fifteen minutes of The Mechanic; we just watch Bishop go through his routine of watching a mark, setting up the mark’s apartment with a simple, DIY explosive, and waiting for the right time to set it off.  Much like Jean-Pierre Melville’s La Samourai, The Mechanic tells you everything you need to know about the film without saying a word.  In a way, The Mechanic is asking us to do what Bishop does: observe, interpret and leave when it is over.

There is something oddly philosophical about the film, and the film touches on some pretty deep ideas that seem at odds with the “Charles Bronson-is-a-hit man” setup preceding the film.  A man of few words, Bishop mostly looks at his “reports” in his well furbished home, listens to classical music and looks at art pieces scattered around his home.  There is a scene in which Bishop looks through a shop window containing elegant furniture with a faint smile on his lips, then as he walks away, the camera focuses on the outside world: dirty, dark and dreary, with a couple of kids fighting on the streets.  There is a real “outsider looking in” element to story, and Bronson always looks distant and out of place no matter his setting or attire.

The same can be said about Steve, who recognizes a similar mindset within Bishop.  Steve is something of a rich, spoiled brat, yet he throws big, rambunctious parties seemingly out of habit rather than real interest, and mostly watches the Seventies-style hedonism from afar.  “I live in my mind,” he says to Bishop,” and so do you.”  Just as the two men seem a fitting pair in their mutual detachment from mainstream society, the job seems equally fitting for the same reasons.

Oddly enough, or maybe appropriately enough, this hip existentialism is best exhibited in scenes in which nothing is said.  The ever-laconic Bronson successfully manages to say everything about himself with a look or a stance, and when he does speak, he does so with sincerity and quiet conviction.  Vincent does the most talking between the two, and is, as a rich kid in his early twenties, is a little too cocky for his own good.  A typical, and entirely reasonable archetype, but there are times when Vincent is a bit too stiff.  When acting alongside a man who can do everything by seemingly doing nothing, his acting hiccups becomes very noticeable.

For the die-hard Bronson fans, or for good old-fashioned action film fans, there is no reason not to see the film; it is not all talk and watching stuff.  Like its patient protagonist, the film is all about the build up, but when it comes time for action, the film delivers some impressive chase sequences.  The film’s big climax features a very thrilling car chase around a narrow, winding road in which Bishop exhibits some of his quick thinking and creativity, with explosive results.

The term, “mechanic,” describes the film and its characters quite well, really.  A mechanic observes a complex mechanism from a (relative) distance, singles out a flaw, fixes it, and ultimately knows how each and every little part works with the others to fulfill its greater function.  The Mechanic is far more meditative than some may like, but that is the film’s strongest attribute, and the film’s preoccupation on social despondency over ass kicking is impressive, intriguing, and better executed than on would expect.

The plot here is pretty simple, as it should be.  There’s an important MaGuffin that needs to be brought from point A to point B by Jake Gyllenhaal’s Dastan, who after being adopted by the local king became a “prince of Persia.”  Oddly enough, after a brief prologue, the plot gets going with a premature invasion of another civilization because they are wrongly suspected of possessing weapons.  Sound familiar?  Throw in the Middle Eastern setting and the allegory becomes none-too-subtle.  Dastan carries guilt over not stopping the invasion when he knew better, just as many of the audience members might carry a similar guilt as Americans who willingly or unwillingly participated in an unjust war.  The message is that the truly noble would speak their mind, and those in charge should listen to advise but follow their heart.  Is it good that this summer blockbuster has something to say, even if it is a bit simplistic?  I suppose so, but the characters seem to get swept away by the political leanings of the film, instead of dictating the plot for their own reasons.

Speaking of plot, the script for this film is not structured as well as it could be.  There are some interesting ideas, but they’re put forth in a manner that is far too episodic for my tastes.  While this is common for “Road Movies,” which this film is structurally, the movie does aspire to have a grander narrative thread.  Because of this it would be far more fitting if the many different plot threads were introduced quicker so that they could be woven together more naturally.  Instead we have these plotlines, such as the entrepreneurial camel racers, that are designed to open up action set pieces and then fade away completely.  On the other hand, the Hassansins, who become one of the primary threats in the last act, aren’t introduced until late in act two.  This makes them feel like they come out of nowhere, doesn’t give them proper time to be set up as the dangerous entities that they should be, and perhaps more importantly, leaves Prince Dastan and his love interest without a proper villain to run from.  I was glad to see that Alfred Molina’s appearance as the sleazy camel racer was not a cameo, but there’s a way to make the plotlines build to something rather than take them on one at a time and then move to the next one.  I’ll give the script this, though, once it entered its final act I was finally able to move my mind outside of the architecture of the film and just become involved in the story that was going on.  It had finally built to a place where I was invested in the action, and could enjoy the movie for what it was.

Many have complained about the casting of the film, primarily due to the fact that it does not feature actors of Middle Eastern descent.  I would’ve loved to see a genuine Middle Eastern cast, but with a movie of this budget, you do need people who can put asses in seats.  So let’s put that complaint aside for a moment.  I thought that if you just look at the actors for their performances, they weren’t bad.  I actually really liked Gyllenhaal as Dastan, he was charming, a bit roguish, and I though he fit in with epic nature of a summer blockbuster much more than I would’ve expected.  His British accent wasn’t bad either, if you’re willing to accept that Persians sound like Brits.  A quick note on this common aspect of movie making: I do believe that if characters aren’t going to speak the actual language, what’s important is that they sound foreign or exotic in a natural way, and this can be better than using another accent that is technically a mishandling of English pronunciation.  I give similar props to Gemma Arterton.  While she’s a bit fair skinned to play a character like this, I actually liked the feistiness she gave to her performance, and enjoyed what she did overall.  Ben Kingsley is always good, and with his goatee, he seemed to fit in with the classic concept of the Middle Eastern advisor, be that a stereotype or not.  I did hope that the role would be more of a departure for him than it turned out to be, but had no problems with his execution.  Alfred Molina is the one actor who feels instantly natural in his character, and is a highlight of the film, but I don’t think he’s alone in giving a good performance.  I think the actors that played Gyllenhaal’s brothers were the weak point.  Not only did they look out of place, but they played their characters weak when they should be strong, and mostly walked around looking confused as to what to do or where they were.  The characters here are all archetypes or modeled after familiar cinematic figures, primarily from the Lucas/Spielberg brand of moviemaking, but let’s face it, these characters work.

From a technical standpoint, editing is what ruined the movie for me.  This occurred on the micro and macro level, and everything in between.  The excitement of the action scenes was often destroyed by quick cutting.  This is something that should give a grand sense of space and location within its action scenes, but was constantly ruined by too many close ups and cutting through pieces of choreography.  The parkour-like movements weren’t even completed in one flow, and really seeing them executed entirely is what makes them impressive.  This goes for scenes of dialogue as well, as an unnatural amount of close-ups somehow kept me as a viewer off my game in understanding how the characters were interacting with each other.  The flow from shot to shot was terrible, as if they had not at all been designed to go together, and didn’t know exactly what frame to transition on.  The pacing from scene to scene, and of the plot in general always felt very off as well, almost as if nobody on set understood how the movie was going to be put together.  It’s too bad because the sets and cinematography are actually quite beautiful to look at, and I remember several occasions where I wanted a chance to take in a gorgeous shot and had it stolen away from me before its time.

One final quibble, and for this one I have Avatar to blame.  When the first posters came out for this film, I marveled at their modern minimalistic typography (Helvetica I assume, but haven’t examined too closely).  I liked that they seemed to be admitting to the glossiness of what they were doing, and chose the fonts to match.  So it was to my horror when the location superscripts appeared in the Papyrus font, (much as Avatar’s subtitles did).  This font looks cheap, is unclear, and ugly.  It feigns culture where there is none.  When you’re putting words on a movie screen you need them primarily to be legible, and secondarily to set tone.  Papyrus unclear and it’s tone—to me—is elementary school class project.  For a movie of this budget I believe they could’ve done something much better, the movies titles certainly didn’t look bad.  This is a trend I hope stops as quickly as possible.

Let’s break this down as simply as possible.  Should you see Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time in theaters?  No, I barely felt I got my money’s worth at the matinee price, and at full price would’ve been severely disappointed.  Could it be a fun rental?  If you have a bunch of friends and want a movie that won’t hurt to talk over, I think there’s some fun moments and some enjoyable aspects, including an awesome knife-throwing fight.  For the most part, if you don’t watch the sheer quantity of movies that I do, I think there are likely better movies that you can spend your time on.

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The Killer
Year: 1989
Directed by: John Woo
Written by: John Woo
Starring: Chow Yun Fat, Danny Lee, Kong Chu
Genre: Action, Crime

Benn and James’ reviews and rebuttals follow after the jump.