Watching Frank Miller's "The Spirit" is like watching a rancid, made for TV remake of Robert Rodriguez's superior feature "Sin City". Employing the inventive art direction from Rodriguez's 2005 feature, "The Spirit"is a neatly packaged gift; but, once opened, you'll find the contents to be dull and lifeless. Frank Miller, who co-directed "Sin City," pony backs on Rodriguez's success and delivers a frivolous, uninspiring cinematic feature.
Unable to makes sense from his mysterious resurrection, Denny Colt (Gabriel Macht), who goes by The Spirit, is determined to fight the malignant hands of crime deep within snow covered streets of Central City. Like every hero, he's got a weakness, and its not his deviously scheming, Nazi wearing, toilet trashing nemesis, The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson), it's much worse: women. Torn between his childhood sweat heart, Sand Saref (Eva Mendes), who left Central City to find wealth and diamonds, and his current fling with Ellen Dolan (Sarah Paulson), the boring doctor who treats The Sprits' wounds, the daring hero just can't say no, even to the charms of The Octopus' college educated sidekick Silken Floss (Scarlett Johansson), whose name seems to have been inspired by Miller's visit to the dentist.
Frank Miller, whose broken conventions in the air-balloon filled world of graphic novels, doesn't have the confidence to sit comfortably in the director's chair. With a ridiculous screenplay that's drowned in buzz-killing one liners like, "Shut up and bleed" or "I'm gonna kill you all kinds of dead," the cast has little to work with. It's completely cringe-worthy dialogue, and to top it all off, its delivery is even worse. Scarlett Johansson, who's shown talent in stronger, noteworthy films (Match Point), is so off-beat that she is deliciously bad. Lately, it seems that Samuel L. Jackson is the go to guy screenwriters lust for when they need their cheesy, overly theatrical dialogue delivered. Jackson's portrayal of the power hungry villain is terribly overcooked that it completely flutters the picture. Gabriel Macht, along with the entire cast, can't seem to find the tone of their performances. They needed better direction.
Though "The Spirit"aims for an over-the-top atmosphere, it's an overblown misfire. Rodriguez's "Sin City," which was also cheesy, worked because the film believed in itself. It took its own narrative seriously and firmly balanced its stylistic flair with its grim substance. In the case of "The Spirit," how serious does a movie with characters like Plaster of Paris want to be taken? Not much. It's a visually stunning film, sadly that's all it has going for. Will Eisner, creator of the 1940's comic strip, "The Spirit," is surely rolling in his grave.
Unable to makes sense from his mysterious resurrection, Denny Colt (Gabriel Macht), who goes by The Spirit, is determined to fight the malignant hands of crime deep within snow covered streets of Central City. Like every hero, he's got a weakness, and its not his deviously scheming, Nazi wearing, toilet trashing nemesis, The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson), it's much worse: women. Torn between his childhood sweat heart, Sand Saref (Eva Mendes), who left Central City to find wealth and diamonds, and his current fling with Ellen Dolan (Sarah Paulson), the boring doctor who treats The Sprits' wounds, the daring hero just can't say no, even to the charms of The Octopus' college educated sidekick Silken Floss (Scarlett Johansson), whose name seems to have been inspired by Miller's visit to the dentist.
Frank Miller, whose broken conventions in the air-balloon filled world of graphic novels, doesn't have the confidence to sit comfortably in the director's chair. With a ridiculous screenplay that's drowned in buzz-killing one liners like, "Shut up and bleed" or "I'm gonna kill you all kinds of dead," the cast has little to work with. It's completely cringe-worthy dialogue, and to top it all off, its delivery is even worse. Scarlett Johansson, who's shown talent in stronger, noteworthy films (Match Point), is so off-beat that she is deliciously bad. Lately, it seems that Samuel L. Jackson is the go to guy screenwriters lust for when they need their cheesy, overly theatrical dialogue delivered. Jackson's portrayal of the power hungry villain is terribly overcooked that it completely flutters the picture. Gabriel Macht, along with the entire cast, can't seem to find the tone of their performances. They needed better direction.
Though "The Spirit"aims for an over-the-top atmosphere, it's an overblown misfire. Rodriguez's "Sin City," which was also cheesy, worked because the film believed in itself. It took its own narrative seriously and firmly balanced its stylistic flair with its grim substance. In the case of "The Spirit," how serious does a movie with characters like Plaster of Paris want to be taken? Not much. It's a visually stunning film, sadly that's all it has going for. Will Eisner, creator of the 1940's comic strip, "The Spirit," is surely rolling in his grave.