Edward Norton searches for signs of intelligence in The Incredible Hulk.

The Incredible Hulk

You have a classic character. An audience suffering superhero fatigue. And the fresh memory of the perceived movie misfire you’re out to avenge. Making a winning Hulk film was no easy proposition in 2008.

“The Incredible Hulk” is not the film to do it. It’s arrival, from the hurried title sequence, feels uninspired. Motivated more by studio interests than storytelling, love for its protagonist or, at times, even entertainment. True, Ang Lee’s 2003 take on Hulk, wasn’t received with much warmth by audiences or critics. I felt it showed thought, care and surprising depth for a previously simple character opposed by single-minded forces. That it was presented with a unique, and fairly innovative, visual flair only heightened my enjoyment. Many others disagreed. Hulk’s franchise prospects seemed dim.

Thus beget “The Incredible Hulk” with Edward Norton as Dr. Bruce Banner. In this telling, Banner has already been exposed to gamma radiation; already lived to see the consequences of what it does to him – and those around him.

Incredibly (ahem), it starts promisingly enough. Banner is in hiding in Brazil. He works at a factory. Keeps himself in shape. Studies relaxation techniques and pursues holistic remedies for his condition. He wears a heart monitor on his wrist. He is careful.

Norton may seem an odd fit as Hulk but he is effective as Banner. Both are intelligent and daring. Norton also shows us a new side of the character – we witness the exhaustion and intense physical suffering Banner endures after reverting out of the Hulk form. It works.

But this is not a film much interested in intelligence or forging new paths, particularly if they detour from the next action sequence. Attribute this to French director Louis Leterrier, he of the Transporter films. He’s all punch-ups and shootouts. And now his fighters aren’t bound by human limitations of strength or endurance.

Leterrier pushes to show us his Hulk as early as possible. One of the criticisms of Lee’s movie was that it kept audiences waiting for the big guy to show up. Here, it’s done fast – and more or less effectively – once General Thaddeus Ross (William Hurt) and his hired gun Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth) receive intel on Banner’s whereabouts. They find him. Fight him. He gets away. Predictably, this happens several more times in the film.

Blonsky is the consummate soldier. Decorated and endlessly determined. He sees the transformation Banner undergoes and sees new potential in himself. Ross can help make it a reality. Roth and Hurt are solid but have little to work with. Liv Tyler also shows up as Banner’s former colleague and flame, Dr. Betty Ross. But the character’s presence is barely necessary. And Tyler seems lost. Her feeble attempts at light comedy fall flat. Worse, she and Norton share no chemistry. Her most dramatic moments involve whispering “Bruce…” breathily to a nine-foot giant. The character’s a waste.

There are a few neat tricks. The green saturation. Roth sprinting 40 MPH and outrunning his entire squadron. Norton wisely deciding against riding the New York (or is it Toronto?) subway. Tim Blake Nelson turning up as a uniquely mad scientist in the third act.

But mostly it’s a whole lot of smashing stuff. The effective Marvel films imbue their characters with wit and charm. Villains hatching clever plans. Some magic. These are not outrageous expectations. But Leterrier plays “The Incredible Hulk” with one note. It’s safe and repetitive. After an hour of watching CGI street fights, we feel like Banner after a night of Hulking. Given the talents of Norton and Roth, wouldn’t you rather watch them duel with cunning and style than as cartoons (however impressive) that pound each other to dust?

“The Incredible Hulk” hinges on its main character’s ability to transform into something extraordinary when his heart rate accelerates. To make a film that drains the life out of this superhero’s oversized soul is fatal.

**

Edward Norton – Dr. Bruce Banner
William Hurt – Gen. Thaddeus Ross
Tim Roth – Emil Blonsky
Liv Tyler – Dr. Betty Ross
Tim Blake Nelson – Dr. Samuel Sterns

Directed by Louis Leterrier
Written by Zak Penn and Edward Norton (uncredited)
Running Time: 112 Minutes.

The Thin Red Line

I have never seen a war film like “The Thin Red Line.” Or any film quite like it.
I have a difficult time imagining there ever will be.

Terrence Malick’s return to film after a twenty-year absence is one of the most beautiful and thoughtful works collected on film. That it comes in the form of an endlessly philosophical and imaginative scroll of war poetry that questions the elusive boundaries of man, nature and the endless battles waged between them further confirms its maker’s standing as one of the world’s great living auteurs.

The film opens with an image of a crocodile descending beneath the surface of a lush bog in the islands of the south Pacific. In voiceover, a device rarely deployed with this ambition or magnificence, comes the first of many questions that frame Malick’s themes:

What’s this war in the heart of nature?
Why does nature vie with itself?

We do not know the speaker. We do not know, specifically, his circumstances. “The Thin Red Line” is not a war movie concerned deeply by those engagements. Certainly it captures combat on Guadalcanal in the Pacific Theater of World War II in 1942. We meet Charlie Company – a battalion of American soldiers brought to the island as reinforcements. We come to know its men. Their fears. Their motives for staying alive. Indeed, Malick does not shy away from the horrors of war. But his fascination lies within the larger truths the act of war suggests and the personal consequences that result. He sees Charlie Company as one man, its disparate parts contained in one form. We experience true collective terrors. Of death. Nature’s awesome power. Their fear of abandonment, their own violent potential, the shame their failures cause. Each is painfully real. Each a part of all men.

Malick holds his gaze as this war inflicts the promised tortures of battle. Men kill and are killed indiscriminately. That terror informs every breath. It is made more awful juxtaposed against the impossible beauty of the landscapes, the poetry it unearths in the men and the haunting clarity with which they express it.

Why should I be afraid to die?
I belong to you.
If I go first, I’ll wait for you there
On the other side of the dark waters.
Be with me now.

There are many accounts of how this hugely ambitious, equally evocative screenplay came together. None, certainly, supplied by Malick himself. But the rumblings that he spent more than a decade working on it do not seem a stretch. The Criterion Collection’s edition of “The Thin Red Line” offers a glimpse into Malick’s method of shaping his script. Actors share their memories of the director spontaneously rewriting scenes on the spot during filming. They recall that the version of the script they received at the beginning of shooting featured Fife (Adrien Brody), a skittish, untested corporal, as the film’s central character. Ultimately, he receives little screen time at all.

We meet a great deal of men, all of them authentic. We relate to them.
We see traces of ourselves in even their darkest deeds.

The principal, if there is only one here, is Witt (Jim Caviezel). A private. When we first met him he’s gone AWOL – idly enjoying the warm Pacific sand, immersed in the simple pleasures of life among the indigenous Melanesians. Gentle and spiritual, he is not compelled to fight by duty or patriotism. He answers to something that resonates deeper. The men he fights alongside see it. Many will fight to protect it even when they do not understand it. Only that type of brotherhood makes Witt capable of war.

Welsh (Sean Penn) is the company’s First sergeant; he is cynical but noble and focused, too. Staros (Elias Koteas) is an empathetic captain. He does not lack grit. But when he will not order his men to besiege a crucial checkpoint some question whether his compassion masks a cowardice. Lieutenant Colonel Tall (Nick Nolte) is approaching the end of a long, peaceful career. His first taste of action may be his only chance to earn a hero’s decorations. Captain Gaff (John Cusack) is precise and smart – qualities that aren’t assets in every battle. Sergeant Keck (Woody Harrelson) is savvy and strong but, he too, is capable of a fatal error. Private Bell (Ben Chaplin) dreams of reuniting with his love in America. Every action is driven by the promise of home. Chaplin plays him perfectly; smart, motivated and exposed. Private First Class Doll (Dash Mihok) begins upbeat because he’s oblivious. But he will remember what happens here. Famously, John Travolta and George Clooney also lend their names to small roles as commanding officers. Both are necessary. But no more than any of the privates; some of whom we ultimately study closely while countless others we learn about. In war, every man plays the part of a man in war.

Each of these men wages a private battle against something in themselves.
Some see the lines. They all feel them.

Casting director Nancy Crittenden says the film features 126 speaking parts. Criterion offers us a glimpse of the audition tapes. The actors must blend together naturally. John Savage, Tim Blake Nelson and Nick Stahl each do. We see how Philip Seymour Hoffman, Josh Hartnett, Stephen Dorff, Johnny Galecki and Neil Patrick Harris do not. Viggo Mortensen appears to earn a part but ends up on the cutting room floor. Mickey Rourke is shown performing an emotional deleted scene with Caviezel on Guadalcanal. It’s impressive work. But quietly echoes a moment in the film featuring Thomas Jane. There are so many exemplary actors and roles and supporting extras that the film achieves the virtual anonymity of real warfare.

One of the most incredible insights Criterion lends to “The Thin Red Line” shows Malick’s penchant for re-shooting his scenes without dialogue. Actors initially perform the scenes as written, sticking exactly to script. Then Malick has them replay the same moments in silence. The result is a wealth of non-verbal acting that allows Malick incredible freedom to add layers of voiceover which he uses to share the characters’ inner narratives. It distinguishes “The Thin Red Line” from all other war films. Further stretching the voiceovers across his breathtaking nature scenes is yet another masterstroke. Poetry set to living art.

We learn Malick would break from daily shooting schedules to capture other scenes in daylight and darkness. This allowed him to re-order the scenes during editing without disrupting the film’s continuity. To wit: Sean Penn claims he had no idea what he was watching the first time he saw “The Thin Red Line.”

It is truly an extraordinary feat that the film came together on time and budget. It had to be distilled from more than a million feet of film. The first cut was five hours long. Editor Billy Weber says he doesn’t think Malick ever watched the final film from beginning to end. Composer Hans Zimmer manages to create music to suits the myriad moods of this epic piece. His insistent percussion counts the fate of Charlie Company. It is his greatest work.

Malick spent two decades removed from Hollywood before embarking on “The Thin Red Line.” How he carried out this achievement of timeless beauty and collective spirit is one of modern cinema’s great mysteries. It is assured and complete. Yet we sense the presence of chance endlessly. We accept nature but stand paralyzed before its awesome power. The pain it generates and the respites it offers. The way living a life shapes the life of every man.

There’s only one thing that a man can do
Find something that’s his and make an island for himself
If I never meet you in this life, let me feel the lack
A glance from your eyes
And my life will be yours.

We learn the fates of some of the men. Hear questions go unanswered. The voices we hear throughout are never clearly identified. There is no need. They are together the voice of Charlie Company, Malick and, ultimately, all men.

What is this great evil?
How did it steal into the world?
From what seed, what root did it spring?
Who’s doing this? Who’s killing us?
Robbing us of light and life.
Mocking us with the sight of what we might have known.

Few great films possess the visual poetry to dress the majesty of their words. “The Thin Red Line” is the exception. It concludes in one of the great closing shots of our time. A budding tropical stalk emerging from a mound of earth on the ocean’s edge. Waving in the gentle breeze as the tide reaches out, touching its soil lip so softly.

****

Jim Caviezel – Pvt. Witt
Sean Penn – 1st Sgt. Welsh
Nick Nolte – Lt. Col. Tall
Elias Koteas – Capt. Staros
Ben Chaplin – Pvt. Bell
John Cusack – Capt. Gaff
Woody Harrelson – Sgt. Keck
Dash Mihok – Pfc. Doll
Adrien Brody – Cpl. Fife
John Savage – Sgt. McCron

Written and Directed by Terrence Malick
From the novel by James Jones
Running Time: 171 Minutes.