by Tyler Smith
They say that good artists copy and great artists steal. While there may not seem to be much of a difference in these ideas, artistically, the distinction is vital. One describes mimicry while the other describes absorption. There have been many films that have tried to capture the stylistic elements of certain popular movies, but they often do so without understanding the essence of these films. As such, while they might be a perfect facsimile of the original material, they prove to be empty, and are quickly forgotten. One need only look at the series of hip, edgy crime movies that were released after Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction to see what I’m talking about. This is ironic, as Tarantino is a great example of an artist who steals, absorbing influences and seamlessly incorporating them into a fresh and original work of art.
I’m sure that director Zack Snyder thinks of himself as a Tarantino type, blending together his various influences into a wholly new thing, but he would be very wrong. In point of fact, Snyder is not only a copier, but he is the worst kind: one with a complete lack of self awareness. He clumsily cobbles together elements of other movies without ever even having the decency to give the audience a knowing wink. A slight smirk can allow the audience to forgive any number of transgressions. But Zack Snyder is not the smirking type. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he has shown himself to be very possibly the most humorless director working today. His films are not only serious, but self-serious. And there are few things more insufferable than a self-serious copy.
Snyder’s latest film, Rebel Moon: Part One – A Child of Fire, is a shameless patchwork of every major fantasy franchise of the last twenty years. These elements are smashed together so obviously, so haphazardly, so artlessly that the final film begins to look like Frankenstein’s monster. Not the kindly, misunderstood monster played by Borus Karloff; the one that gleefully strangles little children. Similarly, this film chokes the audience, shoving recognizable stylistic, narrative, and thematic elements down its throat in the hopes that these will all somehow taste good together. But, in the end, it’s just like peanut butter and pizza; two familiar favorites that, when slapped together, become both unwieldy and unpalatable. The story ultimately boils down to a Starwars-like riff on the Akira Kurosowa film Seven Samurai, with a greedy galactic empire descending upon a small farming community, demanding a large portion of their crops. The community attempts to defy their oppressors by turning to a small band of hard-bitten outcasts to defend them.
There is nothing wrong with tackling the story and structure of Seven Samurai, it’s been done countless times before, from the Magnificent Seven to A Bug’s Life. Unfortunately, Snyder does nothing new with the formula, choosing instead to smother it in the iconography, characters, and sometimes even specific camera shots of other films. With so many uninspired elements to the film, suddenly the decision to follow the Seven Samurai model no longer feels bold, but perfunctory. Like the decision to have a cigarette after finding out you have cancer; the damage has been done, so who cares?
Of course, with unique characters played by talented actors delivering memorable dialogue can go a long way in allowing us to accept even the most unoriginal material. Sadly, though Snyder has put together a very capable cast of actors, he leaves them stranded playing characters that struggle to be two dimensional and dialogue that is mind-numbingly basic, almost to the point of parody. Whenever a character unironically speaks the phrase “we are humble farmers,” you know you’re not dealing with the most scintillating of material.
As one might expect, the visual effects are astounding, but to what end? In this case, the more impressive the aesthetic, the more disappointing that it’s wasted on such an insipid film. Snyder has always had a strong command of the visual aspect of his films. His films can usually be counted on to look dazzling, even when there is nothing notable underneath. Somehow, though, I’m reluctant to say that Zack Snyder is a “style over substance” kind of guy. These films are not formalistic exercises. The sad fact is that he desperately wants to make movies of substance, but can’t quite grasp how.
When looking at a film like Rebel Moon, one wonders how Snyder keeps getting work. It is probably a function of his films making a lot of money (even if the crowd rarely leaves energized by what they just watched) and his being a remarkably nice guy. By all accounts, he is easy and encouraging to work with. And, while I rarely like his films, there is no denying that he is a true auteur. He makes the movies he wants to make the way he wants to make them. He always follows his muse. Yes, that muse may lead him headlessly towards the work of far more skilled filmmakers, he can only hope to emulate, but it does exist, and as long as it does, he will follow.