“Inhabited Island 2″ no “Star Wars” after all

In my review of the first part of “Inhabited Island,” I positively raved over the film (as did the living co-author of the series it’s based on, Boris Strugatsky), predicting a possible Russian answer to the original “Star Wars” trilogy.

No such luck.  The second installment, “Inhabited Island: The Encounter” (“Obitaemiy Ostrov: Skhvatka”), falls flatter than an Ewok who just got crisped by an AT-ST Walker.

The main problem is that director Fyodor Bondarchuk (who also plays the role of the main antagonist Umnik) doesn’t have the time or initiative let this film find its own unique dynamic.  With the original “Star Wars” trilogy, each film had its own distinctive feel: “A New Hope” was truly iconic as the introduction to the Star Wars universe and contained an element, like its title suggested, of hopeful rebellion, “The Empire Strikes Back” became a favorite of hardcore fans with its darker, ominous feel, and “The Return of the Jedi” brought everything to a head in an action-packed, plot-turning climax.

Whereas the first “Inhabited Island” mirrored “A New Hope,” the second fell far short of the kind of rousing finale “Jedi” achieved, leaving an impression of a brusque, made-for-the-SciFi-channel flick with entirely uninspiring action sequences.  Bondarchuk should have split the film into two parts and followed the “Star Wars” mold exactly, with a darker middle section for contrast.  Instead, he tries to cram everything into one film, giving such a rushed, schizophrenic presentation that his movie tests the limits of the viewer’s credulity and patience.

In this encounter, our hero Maksim (Vasiliy Stepanov) travels south to a borderland of mutants in order to enlist their help in his quest to bring down the regime of the Unknown Fathers, the circle of Stalinesque magnates who rule an empire based on a network of mind-control towers.  Two of these magnates, “Umnik” (“Smart One,” played by Bondarchuk) and “Strannik” (“Strange One,” played by Aleksei Serebryakov), want to use Maksim, who as a physically engineered citizen of the advanced future civilization of earth wields special physical and mental powers, to achieve their own ends.

Maksim, however, motivated by the simple creed that people should be free, could care less about either of their intricate schemes.  He travels on from the borderlands, getting conscripted into a war with a rival empire and learning more about the higher forces at work in the planet’s power structure, before he makes it back in time for a final confrontation with Umnik (a development accompanied by the film’s single major plot twist) that decides the fate of the empire.

In the rush to pack all this in, Bondarchuk misses every opportunity to build chemistry between Maksim and Umnik, or, for that matter, between Umnik and Strannik.  When the movie comes crashing to a close, the viewer is left without a strong sense of involvement with any of the characters.

For most of the movie, any tension or sense of dynamics is centered around bosom friends Maksim and Gai (Pyotr Fyodorov), which also fails due to the rather simplistic take on what is in essence a complicated, conflicted relationship.  Gai wrestles his brainwashed reflexes like they’re a bad cold, lacking the kind of deep, ambiguous psychological conflict displayed by other such Raskolnikov-style characters (Gollum in “Lord of the Rings” comes to mind).

Meanwhile, Maksim is lollygagging along without a care besides saving the world, while Gai whines and nags him in a strained, manly yelp.  In this manner, the film jumps schizophrenically from scene to scene, relying heavily on a series of deus ex machinas even more egregious than those in the first part: “Oh, here’s a giant working rocket ship they kept hidden in these stone ruins all these years” or “Oh, here’s an abandoned White Submarine like the one we’ve been looking for, with a man-sized hole blown in the side right next to the ladder.”

Likewise, the movie is chock full of characters who decide to stick their necks out and help Maksim in the most unbelievable ways, all with no apparent motivation besides a late-blooming sense of benevolence or personal ambition so misguided it is hardly realistic.  The ultimate such example is when Strannik decides to literally hands Maksim the keys to the empire and then expects him to play nice and do as he’s told.

Although the final plot twist is compelling and intriguing, the combat scene between Maksim and Umnik is pathetic, paling next to the tension-filled atmosphere and appropriately epic setting of the final scene in “The Return of the Jedi.”

Of course, it’s obvious after the second part that there’s no comparing the two series.  “Inhabited Island” is a fun flick that quickly fades due to its rushed feel and missed opportunities for the drama and tension that should accompany such an epic.

Bashing Bond’s Russian translation

My review of the Russian version of “Quantum of Solace” won’t go any further than the title.

For one thing, I missed the beginning, since I had to sit through far too much of the abysmal Russian slapstick drama “Technology” before we could snatch a seat on the sly in the supposedly “sold-out” Bond flick 20 minutes late.

But more importantly, the Russian translation of the film’s title is “Квант Милосердия”, or “Quantum of Mercy,” which boggles even the most popcorn- and beer-dulled mind (you have to love how they sell beer in Russian movie theaters).  One Russian online forum post argued that this translation “sounds flashier” and “the meaning doesn’t suffer” because of it, but this explanation holds up like an ice-cream cone on hot asphalt.  Russian friends and teachers are as baffled as I am.

It’s not like there isn’t a perfectly good Russian translation of “solace”; “consolation” is the only definition listed for “утешение” in my dictionary, which is a fine word according to all concerned.  And it’s not like the original title doesn’t fit; Bond spends more of the film looking for a little bit of consolation after true love Vesper Lynd’s death in the last film, whether he’s banging hot redheads, bagging baddies, or leaving the villain to his death with a can of oil in the middle of the desert.  None of the actions exactly smack of mercy.

– By the way, the chick in the last film was named “Vesper Lynd”!?  Even with the giant strides “Casino Royale” made, apparently it still couldn’t touch the tradition of horrendous names for the female leads (“Christmas Jones,” anyone?). –

Anyway, I don’t know who the Russian film translation guru is, or what delusions of grandeur or illicit substances are making his brain squirm in the old cranium cage, but this has got to stop.

I mean, cut it out already with this habit of messing with film titles in some sort of vain attempt to encapsulate the message of the film. For example, the Russian translation of the 2005 “Chronicles of Narnia” film was “The Lion, the Witch and the Magic Wardrobe.”  Sure, it’s not technically inaccurate, but it makes it sound like I’m about to watch a stoner flick, rather than the film adaptation of a classic piece of literature.

Speaking of which, “Pineapple Express” in Russian became “Pineapple Express: I Sit, I Smoke.”  As if I didn’t think a film by Seth Rogen and Judd Apatow wasn’t going to feature such themes.

Likewise, “Cloverfield” became “Monster.”  Again, accurate, but completely banal.  Oddly enough, Will Smith’s “Hancock” remained unchanged, unless you count the fact that Russians pronounced the word with a heavy Cyrillic “Х” (“kh”).

Can’t a film title be ambiguous?  This isn’t the Soviet Union anymore; you don’t have to hit everyone over the head with the official message anymore …

Unfortunately, the damage has been wrought: Multitran now includes “solace” as a definition for “милосердие,” citing the film.

Even as “Admiral” sinks, it points to interesting trend

Saw the new Russian movie “Admiral” the other week.  The film “tells” the story of Admiral Alexander Kolchak, the Tsarist naval commander who led White Russian military forces against the Bolsheviks, focusing on his brief love affair with a fellow officer’s wife, Anna Timireva.  And when I say “tells,” I mean the film butchers the complicated history of this era in order to churn out a nauseatingly sweet melodrama that puts Hollywood’s transgressions to shame.

The Admiral Kolchak presented here is a flawless and intelligent hero scrupulous enough to be conflicted over his adulterous feelings for Timireva, pious enough to pray his ship through a minefield, and virtuous (in the soldierly sense of the word) enough to lead the White Army to, well, defeat.  But I guess I have to admit it’s pretty cool, albeit ridiculous, when he overcomes burst eardrums to man a cannon and take out a superior German destroyer with a direct hit to the bridge (notice the blood trickling down the side of his rugged profile on the film poster).  A true “Die Hard” moment.

I have to sympathize with Konstantin Khabensky, who plays the Admiral; the film was a dud from the start.  It’s bad enough that love interest Liza Boyarskaya’s repertoire consists of a faintly alluring, enigmatic smile and big glassy eyes, a dynamic duo that has more than worn out it’s welcome by the final curtain.  A more grevious error is the writers’ decision to focus on a love story (tagline: “For love is strong as death”) that should have been no more than a sideplot.  This shuffles the movie into a plot that begins boringly with the Admiral easily winning Timireva when they lock eyes at a ball (the lively conversation during the subsequent evening stroll seals the deal), continues boringly with the Admiral writing lots of letters and gazing meaningfully at the sea as he pines for Timireva, and ends boringly as the couple, finally together, makes passionate conversation in a luxurious train car on the way to Irkutsk.  And oh the suspense each time the train stops at another city, where there might be Reds!

In short, it’s a far too squeaky clean and simpleminded take on such an intersting topic.  But it is interesting to note yet another facet of the conflicted Soviet legacy here: In modern Capitalist Russia, the Reds are sneaky and evil, and the Whites are heroic, God-fearing, Tsar-loving real Russians, pure and simple.  Let’s just “Whitewash” (sorry, couldn’t help my punny little self) the whole story.