The Host
(2013)
Given the left-field choices of helmers for some of the
Young Adult lit adaptations, you’d think the failures would be more interesting
than they are. Then again, Andrew Niccol garnered notices early on as both
writer (The Truman Show) and director
(Gattaca), but since then his reach
has exceeded his grasp. He’s continued to stretch for more cerebral fare but
usually ends up botching it. But surely he could lend a few morsels of food for
thought to this attempt at extending Stephanie Meyer’s movie life beyond the Twilight franchise? Well no, not really.
Niccol’s previous picture In Time was all premise and no pay-off. So too here, there are
enough philosophical contradictions to eke something interesting from the alien
invasion plot. The E.T.s are parasitic in nature, attaching themselves to
unwilling human hosts and (invariably) squishing their consciousnesses in the
process. The tell tale sign of this presence in a host is the manifestation of silver
circles the pupil of the eye (surely contact lenses would be an effective
method for infiltrating enemy humans?). And the consequence of this bloodless
invasion? There’s peace on Earth.
It isn’t a new concept. Invasion
of the Body Snatchers tackled it to varying degrees of success in all four
of its versions. If everyone’s the same and content, surely that’s a worthwhile
sacrifice for individualism and conflict? Generally speaking (The Host aside), this theme has been
employed in simplistic terms, whatever the philosophical or political backbone
of the question in the given moment (communism, or consumerism, militarism).
The threat is to the creative influence and the ego, typified by the sort of
monologue where Captain Kirk explains the rich differences that make humans
distinct to an uncomprehending machine or race (or Spock expressing admiration
for this imperfect species). It would be much more daring to posit a tale that
took the alternative view, that we deserved what we got. Or a nuanced view,
where there weren’t easy answers. Instead, Meyer has opted for the most straightforward
option and taken the path towards the easiest solutions. And Niccol has done
nothing to stem that flow.
When Melanie Stryder (Saorise Ronan) is inflicted with an
alien “Soul” (called Wanderer) she fails
to wink out of existence, surviving to engage in back-and-forth with her infiltrator.
Wanderer gradually comes round to Melanie’s way of thinking and, having escaped
to the hideout of her former human enclave, she and they are faced with a
variety of preconceptions about each other, none of them explored with
particular skill. Meanwhile Seeker (Diane Kruger), an alien bent on
exterminating the resistance, is on Wanderer’s trail.
Kruger’s is the most interesting and least explored
character; Seeker also clearly has a conscious human presence remaining within,
motivating her bloodlust, but it’s never clear how one of such an overtly non-violent
species comes to this point (the obvious spur is infection by a dirty human mind,
but this is left hanging). Meyer doesn’t seem like much of a science fiction
author (I make no judgement on her literary abilities, not having read any of
her novels; I can only go by the adaptations) as the metaphors are entirely on
the nose (calling your aliens Souls; really?) Whether we’re supposed to see a
direct parallel between Meyer’s Mormonic beliefs (the spirit’s pre-existence)
and the alien Souls is questionable (an essence that lives through many lives
over thousands of years incarnating in host bodies sounds an awful lot like
reincarnation), but the essentially benign universe of her religion may be
found in the ball-dropping of the movie’s resolution.
More than any extrapolation of her beliefs (which would at
least engage the mind), the most unrewarding aspect of Meyer’s work is also the
reason for her success; the teen romance. With The Host, we have confirmation that the love triangle (or love
quartet, if you will) is her staple ingredient. Melanie is in a relationship
with hunky Jared (Max Irons, not a
chip off the old block) but, when she returns, Wanderer finds herself yearning
for Ian (Jake Abel). If The Host has
one thing going for it, it’s that there’s no one here as terrible as Taylor
Lautner (Irons is wooden, but not so much that he causes unintended hilarity with
his every expression). Ronan is much much better than her material, but that’s
a given. That said, this might be the first time she’s been dragged down by it.
Her performance as Wanderer is very good, affording her a depth that certainly
doesn’t present itself in the dialogue, but Melanie’s a complete disaster.
Whether or not the interior monologue worked on the page, it’s fails miserably on
screen. Maybe there was a way to present Melanie’s inner voice without it
become unintentional comedy, but adding a post-effects echo wasn’t the answer.
When one of her suitors (I forget which) asks, “Is there anyway she can give us some privacy?” it summons the ghost
of Innerspace. But that was supposed
to be funny. Melanie is whip smart, quick-witted and sassy; she’s incredibly
annoying, basically. That is, when her arguments with Wanderer over boys aren’t
causing chuckles.
The dialogue is rotten all over. It has to be experienced to
be truly savoured. Examples include “He
tried to kill you. Don’t you dare smile at him”, “You tried to kill me and now you’re protecting me”, “There’s a war raging in you, Seeker” and
best of all, “Kiss me like you wanna get
slapped” (there are all sorts of things wrong there, but hopefully they’re
self-evident). When an old pro like William Hurt is delivering it (when
Wanderer suggests his Uncle Jeb is either a genius or crazy, Melaine responds “He’s both” – that one’s a golden nugget,
right there), you can almost believe but too much of the material rests on
younger shoulders and none of them are up to Ronan’s standard.
Structurally, this is a dog too. Having escaped the Seeker,
Melanie/Wanderer hides out in some fibreglass caves for the duration.
Cinematographer Roberto Schaefer makes the desert vistas glossy enough, but the
sets only ever look like sets. The Souls’ technology is slight and shiny (it
couldn’t be much more, since this is a relatively low budget movie; just as
well, as it barely made it back in box office), but there’s the occasional neat
nod to their social structure that begs for more explanation. Instead there’s
only moribund canoodling. Visiting a supermarket for supplies, the fugitives
leave with a trolley full of goodies; there’s no checkout because the aliens
have no need for money. They have no need for advertising either; in a nod to Repo Man, all the goods are in unadorned
and simply labelled packaging. Even the building itself is concisely announced
as “store” along its frontage.
Obviously, given its failure, Meyer’s attempt to create
another romantic tangle lacks the archetypes and clearly defined forbidden love
that made Twilight so successful. The
indifference to The Host either shows
how fickle audiences are, or their tastes are highly specialised. Studios won’t
stop adapting Young Adult fiction on the basis that, as long as the costs
aren’t preventative, the next one might just be the next Hunger Games or Twilight.
How this one’s failing affects the author’s plans for sequels, I don’t know (or
care). There doesn’t seem much need for another, as she’s repeated Twilight’s quirk of ensuring all parties
go away happy. There’s some guff about Wanderer wanting to end it all, only to
be shown the error of her thinking by insightful humans. But since her mind-set
makes is incoherent anyway, it washes over with no impact (“You haven’t killed a body, you’ve given it
life!”; how very convenient and consequence-free). Really, this is no more
risible than the Twilight movies; its
biggest offence is that it’s rather dull. My suggestion is, if you want to see
a movie called The Host, check out
the Korean flick with the giant flobblely creature.
**