TERMINATOR SALVATION
Reviewed by Sam Hatch
If ever there were a franchise asking to be put out to cybernetic pasture, it would have to be Terminator series. James Cameron's original one-two punch of The Terminator and T2: Judgment Day delivered ample mounds of thrills and surprisingly touching instances of humanity, yet the Jonathan Mostow-helmed (and ultimately underrated) Rise of the Machines and, to a much larger extent, the recent Fox television series have demonstrated truth behind the law of diminishing returns.
Whereas Cameron proved capable of delivering remarkable follow-ups to other men's masterpieces (see his adrenaline-soaked sequel to Ridley Scott's Alien), his own material has yet to be matched or exceeded by the directors shambling in his footsteps. Needless to say, a guy known for goofy adventure comedies (such as the Charlie's Angels film series) and the name of a fast-food gangster had his work cut out for him. Yet McG delivers a fully functional action beast that screams along like a rogue Hunter-Killer on nitrous. Cameron's knack for emotional content is surely missing, but the decision to approach the film as a "Saving Private Kyle Reese" war epic certainly gave a massive, resuscitating shock to the series' failing heart.
Some may gripe that (much like the film's token good-guy Terminator) this heart may lie within the steel cage of a robotic skeleton, yet I've already had enough run-of-the-mill human drama from TV's The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Christian Bale is indeed dour and mega-serious as John Connor - a grim, futuristic resistance fighter we've come to learn much about from his childhood antics and mother's doomy prognostications, yet ultimately doesn't have much more to do in the future than resist. And fight.
Oddly, he's not even the constant focus of the plot, which largely follows the adventures of the generic-looking Sam Worthington's "more human than human" cyberhunk Marcus and his encounters with a young Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin, doing his best impersonation of Michael Biehn's character from the original 1984 film). Connor recites scores of recycled notions about the future being unwritten, but he sometimes acts on autopilot, especially with regard to his prophesied relationship with Reese.
For those without total recall, the first Terminator film established that mankind's future war with sentient machines was largely waged by one-man army and tactical genius Connor, who ultimately sends a young guerilla back in time to safeguard his targeted mother Sarah. She was living in the mid-80s, where offending computers also send a time-skipping killbot with a penchant for gunplay and monosyllabic bursts of profanity. The twist of that scenario is that the man sent back in time winds up coupling with the mother and fathering the very man who sent him there.
Future Connor uses this information (and copious other sage urgings left by his deceased mother on old-school audio cassettes - no doubt TDK model T90's) as his sole decision-making compass. He seems less concerned with reacting to threats and demonstrating his innate knack for problem solving than insuring the future (and by proxy, the past) remains exactly as mommy once declared it. Which is not to say that he's a lame, unmotivated hero, for he quite often bucks the orders of the official resistance command (led by 80's sci-fi mainstay Michael Ironside) when they betray an overly flexible attitude regarding collateral damages.
This vim and vigor adds more credence to Connor's Christ-like persona, and instills a mutiny-tinged fervor in all who listen to his numerous sermons over the airwaves. One such young gun is the man's own father Kyle, a teenage kid holing up in post apocalyptic LA with a mute girl (Jadagrace Berry) ripped out of the Mad Max series. This wee Reese comes into contact with the nomadic, driven Marcus, who is oblivious to the fact that he's nothing but a lump of polished aluminum nestled in a skin suit. The latter man conveniently forms a bond with the children and heads out on the road for adventure, grunge music (Alice in Chains' Rooster) and near death escapades.
When Reese falls prey to the oily claws of the calculating enemy, the would-be human robot Marcus and the overly robotic human Connor are forced into one another's acquaintance, leading to a brief and largely unexplored theme on what it means to be a true, card-carrying member of mankind. Perhaps this is for the better, since the theme of intrusive flesh-bots has been mined to death most recently on the revamped Battlestar Galactica. Thankfully, there is only one model like Marcus, so we're spared oodles of twists and counter twists as to who's “real” or not.
The supporting cast of characters is hit or miss. Bryce Dallas Howard plays Connor's pregnant physician wife Kate (she was Claire Danes when last we saw her), yet doesn't get much to do aside from staring into the camera and showcasing her supernatural beauty. Moon Bloodgood has a bit more to chew on as a hotshot rebel pilot named Blair. She becomes stranded in the desert with Marcus after a daring rescue attempt is thwarted by the nefarious Skynet. Their scenes are shot through with a genuine resonance, and their ensuing psychological entanglement adds tension and emotion to the remainder of the film. And finally, there's also a short pseudo-cameo near the end that should come as no surprise.
If this description of the story feels excessively unenthusiastic and middle-of-the-road, rest assured that the film makes up for occasionally thin characterization with fountains of sheer, hold-on-to-your-armrests (and ears!) cinematic accelerant. McG certainly knows how to deliver action, but the visual effects in this film (from an unbelievably long roster of computer graphics houses) stand head and shoulders above those seen within the remainder of his résumé. The cinematography by Shane Hurlburt also leans toward a gritty, documentarian war film look, sporting an overblown contrast (courtesy of a "silver retention" printing technique) that punctuates the harshness of this 2018 wasteland.
From the very get go, the pedal gets slammed to the metal as a reconnaissance mission (looking for secret anti-computer codes within other codes) turns sour. Giant, monstrous robots fire devastating barrages of munitions as Bale takes a helicopter ride from hell. There's a verisimilitude to this opening segment (that also recalls a piece intended for T2 but abandoned for budgetary reasons) that quickens one's pulse and certainly invokes comparisons to other solid war movies of recent years. From this point on, the film delivers dose after dose of jaw dropping bombast, dripping with danger and close calls.
Not only do beefed up versions of the old films' metallic, exoskeletal Terminators appear to inflict mighty damage with a near unstoppable capacity for mayhem, but new mechanical beasties (courtesy of the late, great Stan Winston) pop up their human-hating heads (such as that of the very Matrix-looking Hydrobot) to maintain a visual freshness. And some of the biggest thrills derive from the unmanned enemy motorcycles that seem to organically sprout from the legs of one towering murder machine.
There's also a remarkable amount of sound to match this film's fury. The noise emanating from these malicious robots is a wonder of sonic creation that generates an eerie, bowel-churning discomfort, and feels akin to the otherworldly bellowing delivered by the alien ships in Steven Spielberg's War of the Worlds remake. These villains sound familiar enough, yet somehow wrong . This twisting and manipulation of the mundane delivers an off-putting shot of fear that pays dividends when coupled with the awe-inspiring computer graphics.
While McG hasn't outshined the work of James Cameron, he doesn't desperately try to. His dedication to the overworked script (by series regulars John D. Brancato and Michael Ferris, with notable help from Jonathan Nolan and Paul Haggis among others) and his own particular vision is refreshing indeed. There are unmistakable nods to the hallmarks of the old films (including a few recycled lines of highly quoted vintage dialogue and composer Danny Elfman's occasional usage of Brad Fiedel's classic, metallic morse-code theme music), but Terminator Salvation has enough of its own juice to avoid coming across as a plate of old leftovers.
Part of the problem with Terminator 3 and The Sarah Connor Chronicles is that they avoided dealing with the meaty future story in favor of postponing true payoff with repeated jogs on the creativity treadmill. Now that computer effects have become affordable enough (thanks in part to Cameron's pushing of the envelope), the ability to delve into the mysterious War of the Machines has finally become a viable option. In fact, this relatively unmined saga would have made for a much more satisfactory television series - a la Band of Brothers but with robots in place of Nazis.
Terminator Salvation may not dig as deeply as it could or should, but it hints at numerous storytelling possibilities that generate a genuine desire to see future entries in the franchise. While not an official reboot, it certainly has rejuvenated the heart of this old machine. It's also a freaking blast, which certainly doesn't hurt. I'm already looking forward to the promise of Bale's John Connor and his anti-mecha rebels "being back". Consider this series... germinated!