WAR OF THE WORLDS (2005)

The old Spielberg is back. Not the nicey-nice Spielberg who likes to show little Drew Barrymore with a flower pot or hairy Robin Williams flying around. This is the sadistic Spielberg who trapped that woman in her house in Close Encounters, then ripped her kid out the trap door. H.G. Wells’ novel is refurbished as a motherfucker of a 50s sci-fi invasion flick, filtered through a brutal post 9-11 sensibility. The gloves come off and Spielberg slams the gas petal to the floor…almost. Some very delicate bits of my anatomy got caught underneath. When the invaders scream out their version of Wells’ “Ulla” sound, a dinner-gong announcing immediate mass death, you’ll understand what I mean.

Yeah, it stars Tom Cruise. I know, I know. The week before this flick came out, that idiot was shooting his mouth off everywhere about mental disorders he doesn’t understand and his bullshit voodoo religion. I could not have been more pissed-off at the guy. But what could I do? I love the Wells novel. And I’ll tell ya, even though Cruise is on-screen practically every moment of the film, I didn’t think once about all that nonsense of his. He’s actually pretty good, up to a certain level of emotional believability, then he runs out of talent and just coasts by with a general dazed look. Dakota Fanning is good for Cruise. He should spend the next few movies just interacting with her and worrying about her on camera. It’s good for him. Spielberg just keeps surrounding those two with lots of death and horror, and just asks them to react. The results were good. It also helps that Cruise plays a real unlikable prick.

There is some majorly contrived horseshit you are asked to swallow. Most of the time it’s easy, if you get in the same emotional panic level I was in while watching, the kind where your logic meter (the one that might ask questions about heat-ray technology, gas tank levels, and the like) gets shorted out in your skull. There is one really unforgivable part where the characters’ logic gets thrown to the wind in an oddly stagey sequence which I called the Sophie’s Choice part. You’ll know it when you see it. No father would do that. And nobody with an ounce of sanity would run off to fight those tripod machines empty handed, particularly some spoiled brat Jersey teen boy with no military training or experience in interstellar combat. I woulda cold-cocked the kid. But, perhaps I’m splitting hairs considering my over-all conclusion regarding the Cruise clan’s ability to constantly come a nose hair’s length away from death and survive. I understand that this happens as the result of Spielberg’s good idea to have the whole invasion perceived from the puny level of a couple common schmucks. I like that perspective. It’s in keeping with the novel and it works. But it leads me to the inescapable conclusion that this family is enchanted. They are magically protected from harm, quite literally. Gotta be. I guess the scene with the black magic spell will be in the director’s cut.

What else did I think about it? Usually I was too scared to think, which seemed to be the idea. Tim Robbins has been getting a lot of flack for his performance. Well, screw those people. If you read the book, you’ll know he got it just right, looney and irrational panic.

War Of The Worlds... a heart attack Happy Meal for today's America. Bon appetit.

All text © 2007 William D'Annucci

All rights reserved