On the eve of whatever is to come, I briefly struggled with the notion of dragging myself to another Robert Zemeckis experiment in “cutting-edge” technology paired with increasingly staid, conventional, didactic storytelling. In the case of Here, his latest, the conceit, as I understand it, is that the camera remains static through eons of time, from dinosaurs to dementia, as the multi-generational lives inside a certain New England home play out. A slick, film-school sort of idea for a project, it’s fair to say. But it also involves the radical digital de-ageing of stars Tom Hanks and Robin Wright (finally reunited after 1994’s Forrest Gump, another baffling, broadly beloved Zemeckis sob-fest) and a raft of nostalgic mid-century boo-hooing and emotional grandiosity; I passed.
It offers me little solace to dismiss and bypass the work of creatives I’ve long admired. Zemeckis seems to continue his love affair with the movies, and his childish infatuation with all the new toys is almost infectious. He made a handful of movies, way back when, that indelibly influenced the cinematic lexicon and inspired generations of creatives to come. They’re big, broad, genre-jumping exercises in the magic of the movies and I love some of them for it.
As recently as Flight (2012), which descended from an initial rush of revelatory action filmmaking into a maudlin meditation on recovery, and Allied (2016), a movie nobody else seems to have seen or, having seen it, enjoyed as much as I did, Zemeckis has shown not-insignificant flashes of the brilliance and curiosity that defined him as one of the Spielberg era’s consistent earners. But then there are movies like Welcome to Marwen (2018), the very existence (let alone execution) of which I find insulting to its source material, and enough motion-capture adaptations for me to swear them off altogether.
I’m sure Here will find its audience and I hope it brings them all some modicum of escape and even more smug self-satisfaction (is it election season?). But I chose instead to treat/subject myself to what may be Liam Neeson’s last foray into the action movie-making that has largely defined the most recent act in a mind-boggling prolific career. I thought maybe a couple hours of brooding violence could be just the thing for establishing a tone for the next phase in the American democratic experiment. And it provided a bit of that (too little by half), but it came burdened with an inconsistent, almost naive approach to looking back on a misspent life.
ABSOLUTION. Neeson’s character, credited only as Thug, has been a low-rent criminal functionary for the better part of his now-foreshortened life. A drunk, a killer and an absentee father, he’s also deep in the throes of memory-loss brought on by a career spent abusing his brain. He meets a nice lady (Yolanda Ross) in a dive bar when he knocks out her boyfriend. He makes efforts to reconnect with his daughter (Frankie Shaw) and grandchildren, all the while being passed off to the insolent scion of his mattress-man employer (Ron Perlman).
Directed by Hans Petter Moland, whose English-language debut Cold Pursuit (2019) also starred Neeson, and scripted by Tony Gayton, Absolution is, on its face, an ideal transitional vehicle for an action star contemplating the end of an era, or even a career. Set in Boston among the more scurrilous aspects of “organized” crime, it would seem to present ample opportunities for modest action set-pieces and an austere, man-out-of-town recounting of sins and successes. And to his credit, Neeson goes all in, never shying from making his character fearful of his own illness, or mean-spirited or out of control. But the movie as a whole, down to its self-serving, grandiose title, does precious little to service the lead performance. To its credit, the movie did give me pause to consider the nature of absolution, whether we can actually be forgiven our trespasses or make real amends in a world that seems increasingly disinterested. But that has very little to do with what played out on screen.
That is, unfortunately, a visually washed-out, narratively confused hash of good intentions as punctuation marks on a life-sentence of poor decisions and inertia. There is at the heart of this thing a story of nuance and significance to be told, but the finished product feels more like a throwback action picture that missed this week’s steroid injection. R. 112M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.
NOW PLAYING
ANDREA BOCELLI 30: THE CELEBRATION. The Italian tenor in concert in Tuscany with guest duets. NR. 148M. BROADWAY.
BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE. Jenna Ortega joins Winona Ryder, Catherine O›Hara and Michael Keaton in the resurrection of the creepy comedy classic. PG13. 104M. BROADWAY.
THE CARPENTER. Tale of the brawler turned carpentry apprentice (Kameron Krebs) to Jesus. PG13. 112M. BROADWAY.
DRAGON BALL DAIMA. Come and get it, anime fans. BROADWAY.
GODZILLA MINUS ONE. The kaiju origin story goes back to its roots in postwar Japan for intense horror with emotional weight. PG13. 125M. BROADWAY.
HERE. De-aged Tom Hanks and Robyn Wright in decades-spanning drama centered on a family home. PG13. 104M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
HERETIC. Hugh Grant as a psycho who traps a pair of door-to-door missionaries. R. 110M. MINOR.
HITPIG! An animated pig and elephant road movie voiced by Andy Serkis and Jason Sudeikis. PG. 86M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
SMILE 2. A pop star (Naomi Scott) is plagued by scary faces and suicides in the horror sequel. R. 127M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
TERRIFIER 3. The scary clown with bad brows returns for Christmas. NR. 125M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
TRANSFORMERS ONE. Bros-to-enemies origin story for the robo-cars. PG. 104M. BROADWAY.
VENOM: THE LAST DANCE. Symbiotic besties on the run. Starring Tom Hardy. PG13. 110M. BROADWAY (3D), MILL CREEK (3D), MINOR.
WE LIVE IN A TIME. Cry along with Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh, flashing back over the shared life of a couple and their difficult future. R. 108M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
THE WILD ROBOT. A robot makes friends in the forest in this animated adventure. PG. 102M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK, MINOR.
For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
This article appears in ‘Powerful’.