| THE CHRONICLES OF RIDDICK |
 2004 - USADirector: David Twohy - Reviewed by Vickie
Maybe with the fact that, about half an hour into Vin Diesel’s bloated, gaudy vanity piece, the audience started laughing. At the movie. Maybe by commenting that each member of the film’s overpopulated cast seemed like they were each acting in a different movie. How about I just say that Colm Feore’s gargantuan and unnecessarily ornate costume made him look like the quarterback for the Middle Earth College football team. See, there are plenty of things wrong with this too-much-too-late follow-up to Pitch Black, the comparatively low-budget but far, far superior sci-fi gem that put Vin Diesel on the Hollywood map. That movie relied on limited sets, strong characters and genuine suspense. This one? Really, not so much. Instead, director David Twohy pulls out ALL the stops, and the result is a massive, expensive bore that feels like Star Wars meets Sigfried and Roy. It’s loud, it’s flashy, it’s hollow and it positively SCREAMS "look how much money we got to spend on special effects!" The story picks up five years after its predecessor, with a fugitive Riddick (Diesel) on the lam from a plethora of bounty hunters. Meanwhile, in a galaxy very near by, an undead race of beings called the Necromongers (don’t they just sound fun?!) are doing their best to wipe out civilizations and "convert" the masses into minions of the Lord Marshal (Feore)...who, again, sports the world’s puffiest, most cumbersome royal costume. Second in command is the bitter, power-hungry Vaako (Karl Urban), who might as well wear an armored vest that reads "My stupid, useless Lord Marshal gets to take over the Underverse and bask in his own glory, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt...so I think I’ll kill him." Yes, he’s that transparent in his motives. Evidently, Riddick is the only person who can thwart the nefarious plans of this evil race and, after a series of maddeningly frenetic, highly overedited battle sequences and knock-down-drag-out fights, Riddick goes toe to toe – repeatedly – with his new nemeses. In between all the brouhaha, Riddick is reunited with Jack (the girl posing as a boy in Pitch Black), only now Jack calls herself Kyra, wears tight, revealing clothing and tries to distract us from the fact that she’s being played by a different, much older actress (Alexa Davalos). Together, they do lots of dangerous things like run around on a lava planet, test each other’s boundaries, creep us out by flirting with the notion of romance (she’s a baby!) and battle scary, scaly alien cats. See the audience check its collective watch. What bothered me most about Riddick, and there were numerous things, was the fact that they crammed it SO full of excess characters, layers of empty details, surplus scenes and mammoth set pieces...and wound up creating something cluttered, confusing, convoluted and unintentionally campy. Half the time I couldn’t follow the made-up history. (Then again, I didn’t really care.) The audience was laughing! And not in a good, supportive, "my, wasn’t that clever!" kind of way. Most of it was directed at Thandie Newton, who slithered around and delivered her lines in such a way that one assumes she mistakenly believed she was starring in Catwoman. Diesel, who also serves as one of the film’s producers, was no better. Words cannot adequately describe the extent of his posing, flexing and posturing for the camera. In one scene, his super-buff body is actually smoking. Get it, audiences? He’s hot! LITERALLY! I know the character is a violent criminal and I know I shouldn’t expect delicate prose to fall from his lips, but the filmmakers’ anvil-like subtlety in attempting to nail a catchphrase was ridiculous. I don’t think Riddick ever said more than six words in a row, or ever uttered anything that wasn’t quippy, clever or sarcastic. Judi Dench, who floats in and out as an "elemental" (read: she’s air! like the element!), is completely wasted in this project and should seriously reprimand whoever told her that appearing in what will become this year’s Last Action Hero would be a swell career move. Why, Judi, WHY? You have an Oscar, woman! Just say no! The same person was also likely responsible for convincing Colm Feore that he was appearing in a Shakespeare play, what with his melodramatic line readings and perpetually steely glare. We know you’re the villain, Colm, you can dial it down a few notches. Despite its potential, the movie was the longest two hours of the summer so far. I’m sure something else will come along to knock Riddick down a peg on my Icky Flicks list before September gets here but, for now, it reigns supreme on the seasonal cinematic poo pile. |
| Home | Currently Playing | For Rent | Video Obsession
©2004 Moviepie e-mail us |
Oh, where to start?
