Vintage

Such are the beginning credits of War of the Worlds, an elaborate, at times engaging, effort by a master filmmaker, Stephen Spielberg.

We cannot delve into a review of this film without paying proper respect to the Orson Wells mass hysteria that was created when this story by H.G. Wells, first published in 1898, was first broadcast over the radio as if it were really happening in 1938. We suggest reading up on this topic at Wikipedia’s entry on Orson Welles.

The epic Sci-Fi drama War of the Worlds, a remake of a 1953 version, starts with the voice of Morgan Freeman doing it’s thing, acting smart and dispassionate, displaying all the pent up subtlety and wisdom of a guy that had to drive Miss Daisy for a time being but now gets to do cool intros to movies involving alien assaults on Earth. 

Such are the beginning credits of War of the Worlds, an elaborate, at times engaging, effort by a master filmmaker, Stephen Spielberg.

We cannot delve into a review of this film without paying proper respect to the Orson Wells mass hysteria that was created when this story by H.G. Wells, first published in 1898, was first broadcast over the radio as if it were really happening in 1938. We suggest reading up on this topic at Wikipedia’s entry on Orson Welles.

In this modern update, Tom Cruise is an everyman good guy Ray Ferrier – a baseball-tossing divorcee living in a New York City row house neighborhood, everything he is not in real life; but hey, it is the movies and War of the Worlds is a great venue for him to make believe that sofas are actually safe around him and us.

Dakota Fanning is pretty darn good as Ferrier’s daughter, but what can we really criticize about her: she is child genius actor. And, she has the most captivating blue eyes that foretell doom.

We first learn of the imminent assault on Earth when electromagnetic pulses first show up on the news. 

As usually, it first happens in some remote part of the world where we probably don’t care that much –Kazakhstan or something. Who cares if the aliens get Borat right? That guy was doing nothing but trying to make fun of us anyway. 

War of the Worlds starts out a little too slow. Though it is forgivable because far too often these sorts of alien invasion films hammer us from the get go without even letting us have a chance to breathe. The appearance of the swirling vortex was a nice touch, just before they dive bombed into our ground to get to their buried tri-pods. And when it is time for them to pop out of the ground and zap everyone with their Death Rays, it is time for Tom to run. Man he likes to run his ass off.

Tom Cruise has a bit too much enthusiasm for what he is witnessing. It wants to be a down home guy but really acts as if he was Jerry Ma-f—king Guire watching the Aliens zap us with lightning bolts, yet still exuberant to a fault. 

What I think would have really, really been cool, is if Spielberg went a little Saving Private Ryan on our asses and had the aliens attack the New York City Neighborhood like it was a beach head at Normandy. That would have been really cool. Alas, though, we can’t have Dakota Fanning’s’ head come off. It is too cute. 

We will give Spielberg credit as well as marathon runner Tom Cruise. When the alien pops out of a manhole cover and the tripods go ape shit on the locals, it is a compelling scene. 
From there we get some good stuff from Spielberg, notably an explosion while Cruise and his family are burrowed in his basement for a midnight slumber only to emerge to the wreckage of a 747 lying skewed and gutted and smoking, partly covering his house. There is a turbine engine still spinning in his living room. I liked that.

Sort of lame is how Dakota Fanning disappears having walked down to a creek, about a mile away, because she doesn’t want Tom Cruise to see her pee. Wait a second. We should refer to Tom Cruise as his character name but alas he is really Tom Cruise in this movie. Tom Cruise is one of those actors who play himself almost in every movie. The same might be said about Fanning.

His relationship with his son in the movie is somewhat of a sore spot for us. The reconciliation of a Boston Redsox fan and Yankee fan seems to pale in comparison to the destruction of the whole world, but then perhaps there are those that would wholeheartedly disagree with me. Maybe in fact, that is indeed a bigger deal.

We are not given a lot of credit as a whole in terms of humanity. Basically, we are reduced to animals that will stop at nothing to shoot people in minivans to get out of a town. Is that really how humanity might react? Granted it would make you do some stupid things, watching us all fight for our lives, but still, people in general are docile sheep. 
They would be more easily marched to the slaughter house then set abuzz like a hive of bees rattled at the nest. We need look no further than Nazi concentration camps, perhaps, for a grim reminder of what realty might really befall humanity at the hands of alien executioners. We might say where to we jump into your blood sucking hoses. 

What’s his face is pretty good as Harlan Ogilvy – Tim Robbins that is. Robbins plays Harlan Ogilvy, a shot-gun wielding hold out living in his basement, gone off his rocker a bit, yet is hospitable enough to lend shelter for the evening to Tom and his daughter, providing Tom join him in a suicide mission to attack the alien tripods. It must be noted, Tom achieves a non-Tom Cruise-like, still uncool, little aside as he starts to sing to Dakota Fanning in the obligatory parent comforting his child with tid bits of the old world getting blown up real good in the backdrop.

We must also point out that when he and Dakota are bivouacked with Harlan, this seems to drag on a bit. Yes, we know the snake-like computer probe can sneak around the whole place but it seems it simply fell for one too many mirror tricks or deftly quiet disappearances of Harlan, Tom and Dakota. For some reason, Tom and Harlan can wrestle for the shot gun but the aliens can’t hear them at all, not one huff, while the aliens are sorting through a photo album on the other side of a crate.

I don’t know that I am otherwise impressed with the avian flu that wiped out the tripods and provides a solution to this movie. Okay, I get that it is a disease but for crying out loud, these bug-eyed aliens couldn’t figure out they might be allergic to something before watching us for millions years or something like that. I mean how could they let the flu wipe them out like this? Did they all have HMO plans or something? They are able to traverse space yet don’t have any antibiotics.

On that note: I am reminded of my old man’s theory on flying saucers. He finds it hard to believe aliens can traverse the galaxies faster than the speed of light, yet they are going to wreck their flying saucer in the desert near Roswell when they finally get here. Yeah, if you believe that, I got a bird bath on Alpha Centauri I’d like to sell you.

Matthew J. DeReno is a writer living in Pittsburgh.