AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER

Stars: Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldaña, Stephen Lang, Britain Dalton, Sigourney Weaver, Cliff Curtis, Joel David Moore, CCH Pounder, Edie Falco, Jemaine Clement, Giovanni Rabisi, Kate Winslet and Brendan Cowell.
Writers: James Cameron, Rick Jaffe and Amanda Silver.
Director: James Cameron.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

 Screened Wednesday, December 15 at Event Cinemas George Street, Sydney, on VMax 1 screen at High Frame Rate projection in Dolby Atmos.

Avatar: The Way of Water has splashed down amidst a wave of pre-promotion that has zeroed in on the dazzling eye-candy offered by its watery alien landscape; a marketing blitz imploring us to deep dive into an azure wonderland, its spectacular grandeur subliminally promising to satiate the wanderlust that has brewed within us all over the pandemic years. Top Gun: Maverick soared to box office glory on jet plane joy rides beyond the clouds; James Cameron’s long-in-production sequel hints at a similarly pure escapism, this time underwater.

And the visual splendour that Cameron’s obsession with all things aquatic promises is delivered upon. His photo-realistic rendering of the forest home of the Na’vi and then the coastal realm of the Metkayina, as well as the glistening hi-tech hardware of the ‘Sky People’ (aka, the human colonists), is all-encompassing and often remarkably beautiful. The island of At’wa Attu, the idyllic tropical wonderland to which Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), now a human/Na’vi half-breed, and his wife Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña; pictured, above) flee with their four children, is like a Planet Maldives. The unified world of the sea creatures and the indigenous clan is a One Planet wet dream, an exaltation of the denizens of the deep and the bond they share with the Maori-like community, led by Tonowari (Cliff Curtis), Ronal (Kate Winslet; pictured, below) and their own teenage children.

But the stultifying 192 minute running time demands that Cameron and co-writers Rick Jaffe and Amanda Silver put meat on their CGI bones, and it is in the narrative structure and dialogue that the first of four planned sequels doesn’t hold water. The arc that propels the story centres on the previously-perished Col. Quaritch (Stephen Lang), resurrected and re-engineered as a Marine/Na’vi hybrid, who is offered a second shot at Sully (now, essentially a deserter/traitor in military terms) and Neytiri, who killed his human form over a decade ago. Quaritch makes his way to At’wa Attu in typically ruthless style, utilising the Sully kids and the native population as leverage whenever he can. The inevitable confrontation between Sully and Quaritch plays out over a final 50-odd minute third act that is pure Cameron in its scale and staging.

Quaritch and his Marine unit offer up the kind of alpha-human action movie ‘bad guy beats’ that Cameron and his imitators mastered and discarded as tropeish decades ago. Similarly, Sully and his ‘Family is our Fortress’ schtick is one-dimensional to the point of distraction, robbing Worthington and especially Saldaña of the emotional engagement they established in the first film, both with each other and the audience.

The groaningly uninteresting second act, in which the Sully kids - teenage wannabe-warriors Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) and Lo’ak (Britain Dalton), daughter Tuk (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss) and adopted daughter, Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) - struggle to be accepted by their tribal peers, devolves into sequence after sequence of rite-of-passage underwater adventures, with blossoming teen romance and beautiful dangers around every coral reef; it’s The Blue Lagoon-meets-any number of already-forgotten YA stories that have come and gone since this film went into production, melded with a travelogue-like fetishistic self-admiration for the colours and wildlife it conjures.

The most troubling take-away from Avatar: The Way of Water is that of James Cameron exhibiting self-referential indulgences. While his creative energies have been ignited by the thrill of crafting groundbreaking interplanetary wonders, Cameron rehashes the Marine unit dynamic and weaponry hardware of Aliens; the teen-hero exploits of Terminator 2 Judgement Day; the luminescent underwater wonders of The Abyss; and, the water-will-have-its-way inevitability of Titanic. Factor in the often overly reliant inspiration it draws from its predecessor, and one can’t help feeling that the team of contributors who have helped visualise the Avatar universe have spent too many workshop hours under the tutelage of their boss. 

I’ve ultimately fallen on the side of positivity and rated Avatar: The Way of Water based on its status as a visual effects groundbreaker. Viewed in the crystal clear ultra-high-definition 3D afforded those lucky enough to see it in a high frame rate presentation, the film is a visually transcendent work, as close as mainstream cinema has come to a virtual-reality feature (despite the failings of The Hobbit as a HFR experiment, I’m now sold on the tech). If only James Cameron had loosened his technician’s labcoat and rediscovered the joys of storytelling with the same crisply etched clarity of his images.

POKER FACE

Stars: Russell Crowe, Liam Hemsworth, RZA, Brooke Satchwell, Aden Young, Steve Bastoni, Daniel McPherson, Paul Tassone, Elsa Pataky, Jack Thompson, Matt Nable, Benedict Hardie and Molly Grace.
Writer: Russell Crowe; based upon a story and original screenplay by Stephen M. Coates.
Director: Russell Crowe

Rating: ★ ½

A national treasure, of course (whether that nation be Australia or New Zealand, who knows) but it’s been quite a while since Russell Crowe has been the central creative force behind a half-decent film. 

He has done giggly cameos in Thor: Love and Thunder, The Greatest Beer Run Ever and The Mummy, had some villainous fun chewing all the scenery in Unhinged and, was fine in a well-written support part in Boy Erased. But in real terms, his last good lead was 2016’s The Nice Guys (in which he played straight man to Ryan Gosling) and before that…probably, 2014’s Noah.

Given the career trajectory in which Crowe seems to be willingly hurtling, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Poker Face reeks like it does. With its alpha-male banter and millionaire’s playground vibe, his second film as a director (remember The Water Diviner?) is a genre hodgepodge - sometimes a Usual Suspects-type narrative puzzle, sometimes a fist-shake ode to mateship, all cut-and-pasted together with a slick shallowness that aspires to be at least Michael Bay, at best Ridley Scott (from whom Crowe had no less than five films on which to be mentored, and clearly wasn’t).

The film starts with a bush-set ‘70’s-era prologue in which five tight lads outwit a local bully in an impromptu poker showdown. Jumpcut to the present, by way of a self-indulgent sequence at a new-agey ‘wellness retreat’ overseen by an Obi-wan-esque Jack Thompson; wealthy tech magnate Jake (Crowe) has gathered those same boyhood friends for some high-stakes Texas Hold ‘em. Each is offered an enticement - keep the expensive designer wheels they arrived in, or play cards with $5 million house credit. Each has some backstory (though why Liam Hemsworth is hanging out with these much older men is never addressed), but…well, there’s your movie, right?

Sadly, no. Instead, we get subplot after subplot, each so diverting that Poker Face is soon careening off course -  a cancer diagnosis, unwanted pop-ins by family members, long passages of sensitive-male soul-searching (brought on by a ‘truth serum poison’, ffs) and an attempted art heist. So flawed is the structure that it may, in fact, be a homage to ‘80s-era straight-to-video dreck, so perfectly does it capture that sub-genre’s faux-macho posturing, bewilderingly silly plotting and retrograde use of women in support parts (Elsa Pataky’s chest gets a close-up before her face, so you’ve got that to look forward to, ladies). 

Crowe can’t claim disparate creative visions were at fault here. In addition to his derivative, uninspired direction, he reworked Stephen M. Coates’ script, affording the writer a ‘story’ and ‘original screenplay’ credit, but claiming his own ‘Screenplay by…’ and, in the icing on the vanity project cake, contributed five musical compositions. 

Local streamer Stan clearly backed Poker Face as a potentially prestigious piece of premium local content, the likes of which they’ve had some success with previously (I am Woman; Sunburnt Christmas; Relic; Gold; Nitram). But entrusting the project to a fading creative force like Crowe has left them holding the film equivalent of a 2-7 offsuit.

THE HAUNTING OF THE MURDER HOUSE

Stars: Kellan Rudnicki, Tyler Miller, Sarah Tyson, Dylane DeVane, Walter Braithwaite and Brent Downs.
Writers: Brendan Rudnicki and Kellan Rudnicki
Director: Brendan Rudnicki

Rating: ★ ★ ½

From the SEO-friendly title (which sounds like a Simpsons Halloween episode) to its outfitting of a supportive relative’s home as its key location, The Rudnicki Brother’s no-budget mash-up of found-footage tropes and slasher beats is made for the scroll-friendly depths of Roku or Tubi, those modern streaming equivalents of the weekly VHS rental shelf. And like the cheesy, underlit splatterfests that dwelled on those shelves of yore, The Haunting of the Murder House will provide giggles, gasps and groans in equal measure.

The hosts of YouTube paranormal show ‘The Otherside’, Harper (Sarah Tyson) and Kai (Tyler Miller) find their online popularity on the decline. So, with reluctant cameraman Kel (Kellan Rudnicki) along for the ride, they decide to live-stream an 8-hour lock-in at the site of a legendarily brutal crime, during which a grotesquely-masked killer clown (here we go…) slashed and stabbed his way to infamy. Now, with OB-van tech Dylan (Dylan DeVane) calling the shots, the three settle in for a night of jump scares and swearing at each other.

(A quick aside - if you get a sense of deja vu from that synopsis, you may have seen The Rudnicki’s 2019 opus, The Murder at the Suicide House, in which three ghost-hunting YouTubers spend a night at the titular estate to get the material they need to boost the popularity of their channel.)

No haunted house cliche is left unturned, with ouija boards, hidden rooms, salted pentagrams, demonic possession and night-vision cameras all getting raked over the cinematic coals. Most effectively utilised, of course, is the image and presence of ol’ bloodthirsty Bozo himself; his introduction, in which he faces off against an increasingly jittery cop (Brent Downs), is legitimately scary. A combination of flashy lighting and a punchy score makes the clown’s first reveal to the YouTubers a genuinely chilling few moments. Also shocking are the occasional leaps from shadowy atmospherics to giallo-esque gore.

And that’s the take-away after 80 minutes of The Haunting at the Murder House - much of it actually works. There will be snarky web-critics who want to tear it down (some sketchy acting and loopy plotting give them an in), but for a calling card film that indicates the creatives have a handle on filmmaking technique and storytelling craft, it is a win for the Rudnicki siblings. Their production outfit DBS Films is favouring quantity over quality at this stage (they’ve banked seven low-budgeters since 2019), but one senses there will be a time soon when that equation balances out.

ONE WAY

Stars: Colson Baker, Storm Reid, Drea de Matteo, Travis Fimmel, Rhys Coiro, Meagan Holder,  Luis Da Silva Jr., Thomas Francis Murphy, K.D. O'Hair and Kevin Bacon.
Writer: Ben Conway
Director: Andrew Baird

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

The school bus drivers of my youth would have wrapped up Andrew Baird’s backseat potboiler One Way in about five minutes, so demanding were they of good behaviour. There was no tolerance for bags of coke, cash, handguns or bleeding-out petty crims on the Carlingford-Epping Hillsbus #549. Fortunately, for audiences who appreciate a well-structured and atmospheric crime thriller, the Sunways coachline team let a lot unravel on this late night run.

Fleeing a bold and bloody drug/cash heist is mid-level street hood Freddy, played by Colson Baker. Those of a certain age know the star as white rapper/red-carpet staple Machine Gun Kelly, aka MGK, but here he is donning his ‘serious actor’ persona. And he’s very good, conveying first the pain of a gut-shot wound and then existential angst as he realises he needs to get things in order with his ex, ER nurse Christine (Meghan Holder) and estranged daughter (Colson’s real-life tyke, Casie Baker) before the inevitable happens (not really a spoiler, as it’s right there in the title).

Trying to navigate his way out of trouble and into Christine’s care from a bus seat, Freddy befriends teen runaway Rachel (a terrific Storm Reid) while coping with the occasional pain-related hallucination. Also on board is Travis Fimmel’s social worker Phil (“You don’t look like a social worker,” notes Freddy, presciently) and, as the aforementioned bus driver who only has eyes for the road ahead, Thomas Francis Murphy. As the Puerto Rican crime boss hunting down our anti-hero, Drea de Matteo deliver ice-cold villainy well; as Freddy’s scumbag father, whose rare blood type may be all that can save his desperate son, Kevin Bacon brings that capital-H ‘Hollywood’ presence to some nasty moments.

Freddy carries two mobiles (including a ‘burner’, which I’ve learned is a thing today), which means One Way is a film in which a lot of time is spent watching actors reacting to phone screens and not other actors; it is usually something I cringe at, but Baird, DOP Tobia Sempi and editor John Walters keep the interactions lively. It is also likely the project was bound by pandemic protocols, adding immeasurably to the credit due the production unit for pulling off such a convincing confined-space dramatic conceit.

The Irish director’s first mainland U.S.A. shoot is steeped in the rain-soaked, neon-bathed lore of ‘70’s American crime-noir thrillers; it is not too hard to envision a version of One Way with Walter Hill calling the shots and a cast boasting the likes of Bruce Dern and Warren Oates. Baird leans into some modern flourishes that Hill and his hard-edged contemporaries would have baulked at (lens flare, slow-motion, strong female characters), but it is nevertheless a sturdy work and confirms the filmmaker is a talent to watch.

SMILE

Stars: Sosie Bacon, Jessie Usher, Kyle Gallner, Robin Weigert, Caitlin Stasey and Kal Penn.
Writer/Director: Parker Finn

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Try telling non-horror types that the best horror films hold a mirror to society and/or humanity, and you’ll get some variation on “harrumph”. Horror movies exist to exploit and manipulate base fears, they’ll say; that most just use loud noises and fake blood to give thrill-seekers an in-the-moment cinematic sugar high; that a key role of horror films is to disengage the brain and tap the instinctual, not the intellectual.

Horror types know that sometimes that is true, and are hugely grateful for it, but that some really great horror films are also deeply insightful. Parker Finn’s SMILE has a foot strongly planted on both sides of the horror film divide, and emerges as one of the best of its kind in recent memory. You’ll shriek and shudder and cover your eyes, as the stylishly visual horrors unfold before you, but you’ll be drawn into the story of a woman facing off against an evil entity that metaphorically addresses the debilitating impact of depression and cyclical trauma.

A terrific Sosie Bacon plays psychotherapist Rose Cotter, a principled young woman who has foregone profitable private practice to offer aid to those in underfunded community mental health care. Her morning is upended when a frantic patient (Australia’s own Caitlin Stasey) starts screaming at her that she can’t escape people hideously grinning in her direction. One horribly bloody moment of self-harm later, Rose is now faced with nightmares of her own, as the toothy entity starts manifesting in the most terrifying ways possible.

The essence of writer/director Finn’s narrative is in Cotter’s backstory, which is revealed to be one rife with family trauma and untreated mother-daughter issues. In a lesser genre work, such undercurrents would be hinted at but then jettisoned in favour of the ghoulish byproduct of such sadness, but SMILE is a work that spells out very clearly the ties that bind the horrors of the past with the persons we are today. 

Specifically, it speaks to the shocking statistics that indicate suicide begats suicide; that those impacted by loved ones who kill themselves are then cursed to carry the burden of crippling, sometimes fatal, pain. 

Some may baulk at the use of severe mental health issues as the crux of a story that presents outwardly as a supernatural thriller. But genre fans know that horrors real and imagined can share the same space, and SMILE provides a smart, sad, shocking argument for their cause

BLONDE

Stars: Ana de Armas, Bobby Carnavale, Adrien Brody, Lily Fisher, Dan Butler, Xavier Samuel, Evan Williams and Julianne Nicholson.
Writer: Andrew Dominik, based upon the novel by Joyce Carroll Oates.
Director: Andrew Dominik

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Andrew Dominik has spent the best part of a decade writing his adaptation of Joyce Carroll Oates novel or, as she calls, fictional biography; a mighty 700+ pager that reinterpreted the real-world celebrity of Marilyn Monroe as a case study of abuse, mental torment and workplace exploitation. Hollywood and, in one of many shocking sequences, Washington DC, discovered a pliable public goddess figure in the industrially-crafted form of ‘Marilyn Monroe’, deciding early on that the impact upon the emotionally fragile woman that was Norma Jean Baker was inconsequential.

That is the version of the Monroe mythology that Dominik is undertaking in his bold, occasionally brilliant, sometimes infuriating 2.5 hour wallow in fame deconstruction. It is a film full of people who, like the American public since Monroe first appeared on screen in Don’t Bother to Knock, fall willingly and blindly in love with false idols. In tearing down the carefully manufactured facade that was ‘Marilyn Monroe’, he is also merciless in his depiction of baseball great Joe Di Maggio (Bobby Carnavale) and President JFK (Casper Phillipson), fellow icons of America’s golden post-war years.

Enduring the tortuous mental deterioration as Dominik’s Marilyn is Ana de Armas, and the actress is both entirely at one with her director’s vision and, more often than not, significantly better than it. While there are legitimate issues that one may have with Dominik’s style or structure or perceived intent, there can be no reservations as to the bravery and depth of character that de Armas demands of herself. Physically, she is as cinematically luminous as Monroe at her most photogenic, while also offering a stark portrayal of an emotionally incomplete and constantly deteriorating victim of lifelong abuse and loneliness.

The Marilyn Monroe biopic that captures her business acumen and comic timing and acting prowess, aspects of her life that critics have noted is absent from BLONDE, is another film entirely; Dominik’s wildly ambitious work is the story of what the American entertainment industry is willing to do to draw every last drop of humanity out of those it selects to exploit. It is a sad, bitter, horrible tale, which is not how those invested in her legend want to see Marilyn portrayed. But it is a version of her life that is as important in its telling as the perpetuation of her screen-goddess myth.

PINOCCHIO

Stars: Tom Hanks, Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, Benjamin Evan Ainsworth, Lorraine Bracco, Keegan-Michael Key, Giuseppe Battiston, Jaquita Ta'le and Luke Evans.
Writers: Robert Zemeckis, Chris Weitz. Based on "The Adventures of Pinocchio" by Carlo Collodi.
Director: Robert Zemeckis.

Rating: ★ ½

Pinocchio now represents two significantly symbolic lines in the sand for the Walt Disney company. In 1940, the cartoon (produced by Walt, but directed by a team of animators each assigned key sequences) landed in cinemas an instant classic; along with Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs, Dumbo, Fantasia, Cinderella, it represents the might of the Mouse House at the height of their creative commitment to wondrous, heartfelt movie magic.

In 2022, Pinocchio is not any of those things. Superficially, it is the latest live-action/CGI hybrid that the Disney boardroom have deemed an intellectual property up for a reboot; a legacy title that may be nearing its expiry date after 80 years stoking the commercial coffers of the studio, and that the money-men have decided needed a new coat of paint.

And the result, in line with most creative undertakings borne out of greed, is horrible. Directed by Robert Zemeckis (and more on him later), Pinocchio is a shockingly soulless, cynically constructed slab of modern streaming content. It is a monumental testament to bad creative decision-making and corporate shilling; from the moment the cuckoo clocks on the wall of Geppeto’s workshop chime, and a parade of Disney characters emerge, this travesty ironically abandons any pretence it will take on anything resembling human form.

Zemeckis draws on old mate Tom Hanks to play Gepetto, the latest character in his 2022 tour of weird accents (see also Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis). The pair are working together for the umpteenth time, hoping to recapture that Forrest Gump vibe but more often recalling The Polar Express in everything they do. Why Hanks bothers going full ‘old Italian’ is hard to fathom, as Joseph Gordon-Leavitt as an annoying Jiminy Cricket is all Louisiana drawl; Pinocchio himself, voiced by Benjamin Evan Ainsworth, sounds like Bobby Brady. Other casting is either focus-group driven (Cynthia Erivo as The Blue Fairy…is fine, I guess) or totally in line with memos from the boardroom (“Hey, Beauty and the Beast’s Luke Evans is still on the books, so find something for him…”).

And on Zemeckis? By my reckoning (and I’ve been a fan since his script for Spielberg’s 1941 and his 1980 directorial debut, Used Cars), there is no sadder figure amongst the top-tier Hollywood directing ranks. Having helmed four legit classics (Back to the Future; Forrest Gump; Who Framed Roger Rabbit?; Contact) and one black-comedy cult favourite (Death Becomes Her) that found the perfect balance between new Hollywood tech and storytelling, he has chased that dragon over and over. His unwavering fascination with the potential of filmmaking technology has resulted in an ambitious but irredeemably flawed series of films that favour gadgetry over humanity (Beowulf; The Polar Express; A Christmas Carol; The Walk). 

Pinocchio is his worst yet; the story of the boy who wants to be real becomes a contradictory, even cautionary tale about how bringing life to the lifeless can go terribly wrong.

SAMARITAN

Stars: Sylvester Stallone, Javon 'Wanna' Walton, Pilou Asbæk, Dascha Polanco, Sophia Tatum, Martin Starr, Moises Arias and Jared Odrick.
Writer: Bragi F. Schut
Director: Julius Avery.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Sylvester Stallone looks great for his age, and Aussie director Julius Avery is an exciting visualist who uses framing and colour in a way that recalls Todd Phillip’s Joker, but in every other respect Samaritan is a pretty rote fallen super-hero adventure that was bound for the big-screen but feels about right as a streaming debut.

Sly plays Joe, a garbo on the dirty streets of dank metropolis Granite City, desperate to remain in the shadows of whatever anonymous life he can make for himself. But he shares an apartment complex with pesky brat Sam Cleary (a pretty good Javon Walton), who is becoming increasingly convinced Joe is, in fact, the once-mighty superhero Samaritan, a legendary figure whose was forced out of the masked, cape-wearing lifestyle after a reputation-ruining family incident with his evil brother, Nemesis.

The two are thrown together eventually over shared adversary Cyrus (Game of Thrones’ Pilou Asbæk), the stereotypically snarling local ganglord who yearns to be the bad-ass bad-guy that Nemesis once was. From here on in, the story mostly writes itself - Sam becomes leverage; Joe is drawn out of hiding; Joe, Sam and Cyrus face-off in a fiery climax. It’s all Superhero Bluster 101, sometimes recalling Arnie’s The Last Action Hero minus the ironic laughs, with a few genre staples (Sophia Tatum’s cold-blooded, smokin’-hot killer, Sil; Martin Starr’s bookstore-owner/exposition portal, Albert) in the mix.

Avery has a great film in him, waiting to break out; if you believe some corners of the internet, it already happened with 2018’s bloody WWII-horror romp, Overlord. And it might have also been Samaritan at some point, as there is some social-commentary material in its DNA that addresses rich-vs-poor inequality and family legacy. But that all fails to materialise, with the production favouring loud-and-fast over character and nuance. Which’ll be fine for some, but represents a missed opportunity for others.

THE MAGICAL CRAFTSMANSHIP OF SUZHOU

Director: Zengtian Sun

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Centuries of unparalleled commitment to a life of artistry and beauty are honoured with warmth and precision by director Zengtian Sun in the captivating documentary, The Magical Craftsmanship of Suzhou. The story of the city of Suzhou in the southern Jiangsu province of Eastern China is rich with the gifted and dedicated exponents of their chosen skill, and this breathtakingly lovely profile of a modern city embracing and honouring the artisans of their past is a fitting testament.

 The region is home to the most celebrated of all Chinese arts and crafts, works that are cherished both locally, by a population who recognise the wisdom and skill of the old practitioners, and internationally, where the one-off designs and unmatched elegance is big business. However, the filmmakers only fleetingly touch on how far the influence of Suzhou has impacted global commercial markets, instead focussing on how generations of intellectual and artistic enrichment have led to a prosperous modern metropolis.

After a brief prologue that enlightens us to the exalted status of the Suzhou craftsperson as seen through the eyes of a young boy, we are introduced to the artificer community in the form of 75 year-old Wang Xiawen, a master of lantern design for over 50 years, who is overseeing his small team on the eve of one of the city’s renown lantern festivals. 

What follows are extraordinary scenes of masterful artistry across several disciplines - Zhou Jianming, whose steady hand and exact eye has helped his olive-pit carvings become prestige items; the tiny culinary creations of the boat snack chefs; the women who maintain the traditions of Song Brocade silk weaving and embroidery; the furniture makers who turn centuries-old red sandalwood into Ming-style contemporary pieces.

As the documentary points out, the defining traditions of Suzhou combine, “the ingenuity of the literati and the dexterity of the craftsmen,” resulting in a people who, “will never compromise on the quality of life.” Zengtian Sun’s The Magical Craftsmanship of Suzhou embodies the same qualities - a work that revels in the history, refinement and majesty of one of the world’s truly unique city experiences.

RESIDENT EVIL

Stars: Ella Balinski, Lance Reddick, Tamara Smart, Sienna Agudong, Adeline Rudolph and Paola Núñez.
Writers: Andrew Dabb, Garett Pereda, Shane Tortolani, Jeff Howard, Kerry Williamson and Lindsey Villarreal.
Director: Bronwen Hughes, Rachel Goldburg, Batan Silva and Rob Seidenglanz.

8 episodes to stream on Netflix from July 14, 2022

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

The RESIDENT EVIL franchise is proving harder to kill-off than one of its own cannibalistic T-virus infected bad-guys (or girls, or dogs, or whatever). Since CAPCOM launched the first Playstation video game version in 1996, it has been a blockbuster - since its inception, no less than 31 versions have been released on gaming platforms, making it the most successful horror gaming series of all time. The seven live-action films, six of which starred Milla Jovovich, have grossed over a billion dollars, making it the most successful film series based on a videogame ever. This is before you add in graphic novels, animated films and TV shows, merchandise and, I shit you not, live theatre productions, of which there have been three in Japan since 2000.

Such hot-property legacy IP means that Netflix and their safe-bet programming strategy couldn’t be far behind. They dipped their toes in the Resident Evil waters with last years’ CGI-series Infinite Darkness and have now gone all in with this new 8-episode arc, boldly calling itself simply ‘Resident Evil’, suggesting this is the new and defining narrative for the brand. With zombies or zombie-adjacent types having bought in big bucks for streamers in recent years, it’s seems only fair that the starting point for the re-animation of the undead as legit pop-culture iconography shouldn’t enjoy the spoils - without Resident Evil, there’d be no Walking Dead or 28 Days Later or World War Z, so good luck to all involved.

But does this fresh spin on the mythology of New Raccoon City and the spread of the T-virus earn its own stripes, under the showrunning of Supernatural alumni Andrew Dabb? He takes the potentially risky step of splitting his story into two distinct timelines - the first, a future-set dystopian vision where 6 billion infected roam the Earth and freehold outposts provide shelter for the uninfected (a bit like in Mad Max 2). British actress Ella Balinski plays Jade Wesker, a lone figure monitoring the herd actions of the infected, until she is knocked unconscious by a monster caterpillar (yeah, in this Resident Evil, there are monster caterpillars!) and becomes collateral for the nomads to barter with the evil Umbrella Corporation.

Storyline #2 is not quite so ambitious, or compelling; it is 2022, and teen Jade (now played by Tamara Smart) and her sister Billie (Sienna Agudong) have relocated to the oh-so-white suburbia that is the pre-T-virus outbreak New Raccoon City. Their emotionally-absent father is Umbrella bigwig Albert Wesker (a typically compelling Lance Reddick), who is struggling to raise the two girls, who struggle with their own PTSD moments from the life they’ve left behind. An animal rescue attempt, during which Jade and Billie gain (surprisingly easy) access to the Umbrella labs, starts to align the two story strands.

The intercutting of the present and future plotting is handled skilfully, even if the high stakes of 2036 Jade’s undead-infested existence and the teen beats of 2022 Jade’s high-school/homelife world seem initially mismatched. Corporate horrors and homeroom villainy find a surprisingly satisfying balance. Those in for the traditional Resident Evil thrills will be happy to know zombie dogs turn up in Episode 1, and that the infected are shriekers, not shufflers. Balinski, who was so good in the recent Charlie’s Angels reboot it was like she was in a different film entirely, is great as a hard-edged action heroine.

As a refresh of the Resident Evil mythology, the series exhibits a strong pulse…