Skip to main content

But one soldier, against seventeen. What are you going to do?

Soldier
(1998)

(SPOILERS) Now that a bona fide Blade Runner sequel has arrived, we can stop clutching at straws of movies that may/not be set in the same universe. Ridley Scott, growing more senile with each passing minute, considers Alien to exist in the same continuity, but David Webb Peoples got there first with “sidequel” Soldier, enthusiastically partnered by Paul WS Anderson. Unfortunately, no one benefits from the association, as Soldier is a downright terrible movie.


I have a bit of a blind spot for Peoples, on the basis that Unforgiven is a masterpiece of a screenplay, Twelve Monkeys is perfectly formed and his contribution to Blade Runner helped engineer an all-time-classic. I assume everything he touches ought to be exemplary, but I struggle to see how Soldier, even without having been force-fed through a PWSA meat grinder, could have been one to treasure. Shane reconfigured on a backwater trash heap planet, complete with mute child, palpitating-with-desire mother and blithely unaware father? It sounds like a recipe for disaster. But then, Logan remixed the Shane formula recently to at least partial success, so maybe it is all down to PWSA (and perhaps Tony Gilroy’s uncredited rewrite).


But anyone can have an off day, and Soldier might be that. There are certainly too few produced Peoples’ projects in the world. Given how long it takes to get some of his screenplays on screen (this, Unforgiven), maybe his Sergeant Rock will become a movie one day; Tarantino feted it as of such quality that, if he were to direct someone else’s work, it would be the one he’d choose (Joel Silver, attached to Rock as producer, levels the charge that the director lifted the premise for Inglorious Basterds).


The Soldier screenplay sat on a shelf for fifteen years before PWSA became flavour of the month (for reasons that remain elusive) and decided he wanted some of that, and Stallone and Keanu – curiously, Todd’s “I’m going to kill them all, sir” is paraphrased by Keanu in John Wick Chapter 2 – were mooted before Russell took the gig. Kurt was paid a ludicrous $20m (although he did get into uber-shape at a not exactly spring chicken age of 48, and PWSA delayed shooting for him to get so pumped, making the almost-as-botched Event Horizon in the meantime). That amounted to a third of the overall budget, and he certainly wasn’t being paid for loquacity; notably, Russell’s dialogue was of minimalist Mad Max 2 proportions, amounting to 104 words.


The movie proceeded to flop hard, grossing a mere $14m in the US. Russell disappeared from the screens for three years and didn’t take another action role, while it took PWSA four years to get his next of the ground. It proved his greatest success story; the Resident Evil franchise would endure for 15 years (to date), with the director helming four (and writing all) of them.


The Blade Runner link can be found tangibly with the appearance of one of that movie’s spinners, but there are also references to taciturn protagonist Todd 3465’s military career; he fought in the Battle of Tannhauser Gate and did a stint on the Shoulder of Orion (other escapades include the Len Deighton-sounding Moscow Incident, the War of the Six Cities and the Battle of the Argentine Moons, as well as references to other Russell movies, Star Trek II and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy).


Kurt and his co-supermen in Soldier aren’t replicants, however; they’re genetically engineered and brainwashed humans, products of the Adam Project, indoctrinated from an early age into becoming emotionless – fear aside – obedient tools of the military. The introductory montage follows Todd from year zero in 1996 up to his 40s (as a youngster he’s played by Russell’s son Wyatt), at which point, following an altercation with new model Jason Scott Lee – who, one might infer, is a replicant, although the word is never used – he’s unceremoniously labelled obsolete and dumped on the planet where the lion’s share of the Shane-esque action will occur.


Todd curtly gets to know the settlers, keeping mostly mum but sharing meaningful looks with mum, and then nearly kills Michael Chilkis, is banished, invited back… and just in time! Those dastardly replacements have arrived, and evil Jason Isaacs (will you just look at his evil moustache) is intent on using the unofficial inhabitants as cannon fodder in a training exercise of his own devising.


This is so bare bones and linear an idea that the results are entirely what one makes of them, and PWSA makes an indigestible stodge rather than a flavoursome pudding. He commented, “What I’d originally planned would have been much better, ultimately, than what we put on screen”, but his career, whatever else one can say of it (and fair’s fair, he does call shots on clear, coherent action) isn’t bursting with depth, resonance, subtlety or atmosphere.


PWSA indirectly blamed Kurt’s desire to remain clean in getting ripped (i.e. he didn’t want to take steroids, so it took a while, by which time Soldier had become a studio-based rather than location shoot). Certainly, the studio work is pretty awful, so the movie could only have been improved by getting outside, but you can get an indoors shoot to look great (Legend, for example). It doesn’t have to look like the sets are sets; David Tatterstall’s lensing is resolutely lifeless (he went onto the Star Wars prequel trilogy, having worked with Lucas on Young Indiana Jones) and inert (it’s a problem you can also see in Die Another Day).


Sandra: Sergeant Todd, what’s it like? What’s it like being a soldier? What do you think about? You must think about something. What about feelings, then? You must feel something.
Todd: Fear.
Sandra: Fear?
Todd: Fear and discipline.
Sandra: Now?
Todd: Always.


So there’s that. The bigger problem is that he doesn’t know his actors. Sure, he knows actors (Sean Pertwee and Isaacs come from his previous Shopping and Event Horizon) but they’re inhabiting what are at best caricatures, assembling a bunch of clichés that tend to the ridiculous or embarrassing. He has no idea how to make the attraction between Sandra (Connie Nielsen) and Todd work, so we’re dealt a series of clumsy, laughable close-ups of Sandra glowing in response to his manliness while Todd stares transfixed at her nipples.


The turning point of the settlors realising Todd’s a good guy comes when wee imp Nathan kills a vicious viper with a shoe, an act of violence Todd taught him (the reactionary undercurrent being that you need a guy around who can encourage mass slaughter, as you’ll only bleed out after getting your leg blown off if you settle for knitwearing Sean Pertwee). It’s as hackneyed as its sounds. And, confined to his studio set, it feels as if Todd exiled himself – wearing what looks like a Doctor Who scarf – just over the next pile of debris rather than any great distance away (he also cries at his loss of company, the poor hulking lug). It’s a fairly cosy, homely looking bit of pipe, mind.


Anderson’s action is also rather clunky, evidently coming from the James Cameron school of slo-mo is good but without his master’s accompanying adeptness at pacing and escalation (editor Martin Hunter also worked with PWSA on Event Horizon, which is a complete mess). He’s evidently encouraged Joel McNeely to ape James Horner on the soundtrack, as there’s a demonstrative horn section, but they fail to imbue any urgency or rhythm. And you can see the director borrowing, borrowing, borrowing, rather than establishing his own distinctive style. From Cameron, obviously. From Lucas (the trash compartment on the ship from which Russell is expended). From Coppola (Todd in combat mode descending into water as he takes out Caine 607’s men). From Verhoeven (Todd’s flashbacks are very Robocop).


Gary Busey shows up as Todd’s commander Church, and he has a modicum of impact (Isaacs never gets beyond ham villainy, and having him piss pineapple juice is as puerile as you’d expect from the director). Church’s line “Well, maybe you should have made them smart instead of fast” is one of the few of note. Jason Scott Lee glowers implacably as Caine 607, but is otherwise a non-event. Michael Chiklis is in cuddly sidekick mode, post-Seinfeld, pre-Shield.


The ineffectiveness of the cast might not matter so much if Anderson had visualised an immersive world, but he has only derivative imagery to call on, applied to a hokey and inert journey to self-awareness (Todd hugs the kid at the end). We don’t even get the consolation of Shane/Max/Todd striding off nobly and heroically into the sunset; he’s been integrated rather unconvincingly (with his old comrades to boot) into the colonists’ group, and will no doubt make a curious, latently violent, staunchly disciplinarian husband and surrogate father.


We can only be grateful there was never a Soldier sequel (and one had been mooted, prior to opening weekend). None of Kurt’s sci-fi jaunts in the ‘90s were great, but they’re on a sliding scale of averageness to awfulness (Stargate, followed by Escape from L.A., followed by this). This one isn’t on him any more than L.A. is, though. Soldier’s as memorable as its title, but less streamlined. Even at under 100 minutes it plods drearily and wearily. It’s just a plain bad film.




Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Popular posts from this blog

I’m smarter than a beaver.

Prey (2022) (SPOILERS) If nothing else, I have to respect Dan Trachtenberg’s cynical pragmatism. How do I not only get a project off the ground, but fast-tracked as well? I know, a woke Predator movie! Woke Disney won’t be able to resist! And so, it comes to pass. Luckily for Prey , it gets to bypass cinemas and so the same sorry fate of Lightyear . Less fortunately, it’s a patience-testing snook cocking at historicity (or at least, assumed historicity), in which a young, pint-sized Comanche girl who wishes to hunt and fish – and doubtless shoot to boot – with the big boys gets to take on a Predator and make mincemeat of him. Well, of course , she does. She’s a girl, innit?

Everyone creates the thing they dread.

Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) (SPOILERS) Avengers: Age of Ultron ’s problem isn’t one of lack. It benefits from a solid central plot. It features a host of standout scenes and set pieces. It hands (most of) its characters strong defining moments. It doesn’t even suffer now the “wow” factor of seeing the team together for the first time has subsided. Its problem is that it’s too encumbered. Maybe its asking to much of a director to effectively martial the many different elements required by an ensemble superhero movie such as this, yet Joss Whedon’s predecessor feels positively lean in comparison. Part of this is simply down to the demands of the vaster Marvel franchise machine. Seeds are laid for Captain America: Civil War , Infinity Wars I & II , Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok . It feels like several spinning plates too many. Such activity occasionally became over-intrusive on previous occasions ( Iron Man II ), but there are points in Age of Ultron whe

I’m the famous comedian, Arnold Braunschweiger.

Last Action Hero (1993) (SPOILERS) Make no mistake, Last Action Hero is a mess. But even as a mess, it might be more interesting than any other movie Arnie made during that decade, perhaps even in his entire career. Hellzapoppin’ (after the 1941 picture, itself based on a Broadway revue) has virtually become an adjective to describe films that comment upon their own artifice, break the fourth wall, and generally disrespect the convention of suspending disbelief in the fictions we see parading across the screen. It was fairly audacious, some would say foolish, of Arnie to attempt something of that nature at this point in his career, which was at its peak, rather than playing it safe. That he stumbled profoundly, emphatically so since he went up against the behemoth that is Jurassic Park (slotted in after the fact to open first), should not blind one to the considerable merits of his ultimate, and final, really, attempt to experiment with the limits of his screen persona.

If you ride like lightning, you're going to crash like thunder.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) (SPOILERS) There’s something daringly perverse about the attempt to weave a serious-minded, generation-spanning saga from the hare-brained premise of The Place Beyond the Pines . When he learns he is a daddy, a fairground stunt biker turns bank robber in order to provide for his family. It’s the kind of “only-in-Hollywood” fantasy premise you might expect from a system that unleashed Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man and Point Break on the world. But this is an indie-minded movie from the director of the acclaimed Blue Valentine ; it demands respect and earnest appraisal. Unfortunately it never recovers from the abject silliness of the set-up. The picture is littered with piecemeal characters and scenarios. There’s a hope that maybe the big themes will even out the rocky terrain but in the end it’s because of this overreaching ambition that the film ends up so undernourished. The inspiration for the movie

Death to Bill and Ted!

Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991) (SPOILERS) The game of how few sequels are actually better than the original is so well worn, it was old when Scream 2 made a major meta thing out of it (and it wasn’t). Bill & Ted Go to Hell , as Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey was originally called, is one such, not that Excellent Adventure is anything to be sneezed at, but this one’s more confident, even more playful, more assured and more smartly stupid. And in Peter Hewitt it has a director with a much more overt and fittingly cartoonish style than the amiably pedestrian Stephen Herrick. Evil Bill : First, we totally kill Bill and Ted. Evil Ted : Then we take over their lives. My recollection of the picture’s general consensus was that it surpassed the sleeper hit original, but Rotten Tomatoes’ review aggregator suggests a less universal response. And, while it didn’t rock any oceans at the box office, Bogus Journey and Point Break did quite nicely for Keanu Reev

I think it’s pretty clear whose side the Lord’s on, Barrington.

Monte Carlo or Bust aka  Those Daring Young Men in Their Jaunty Jalopies (1969) (SPOILERS) Ken Annakin’s semi-sequel to Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines tends to be rather maligned, usually compared negatively to its more famous predecessor. Which makes me rather wonder if those expressing said opinion have ever taken the time to scrutinise them side by side. Or watch them back to back (which would be more sensible). Because Monte Carlo or Bust is by far the superior movie. Indeed, for all its imperfections and foibles (not least a performance from Tony Curtis requiring a taste for comic ham), I adore it. It’s probably the best wacky race movie there is, simply because each set of competitors, shamelessly exemplifying a different national stereotype (albeit there are two pairs of Brits, and a damsel in distress), are vibrant and cartoonish in the best sense. Albeit, it has to be admitted that, as far as said stereotypes go, Annakin’s home side win

This entire edifice you see around you, built on jute.

Jeeves and Wooster 3.3: Cyril and the Broadway Musical  (aka Introduction on Broadway) Well, that’s a relief. After a couple of middling episodes, the third season bounces right back, and that's despite Bertie continuing his transatlantic trip. Clive Exton once again plunders  Carry On, Jeeves  but this time blends it with a tale from  The Inimitable Jeeves  for the brightest spots, as Cyril Basington-Basington (a sublimely drippy Nicholas Hewetson) pursues his stage career against Aunt Agatha's wishes.

Poetry in translation is like taking a shower with a raincoat on.

Paterson (2016) (SPOILERS) Spoiling a movie where nothing much happens is difficult, but I tend to put the tag on in a cautionary sense much of the time. Paterson is Jim Jarmusch at his most inert and ambient but also his most rewardingly meditative. Paterson (Adam Driver), a bus driver and modest poet living in Paterson, New Jersey, is a stoic in a fundamental sense, and if he has a character arc of any description, which he doesn’t really, it’s the realisation that is what he is. Jarmusch’s picture is absent major conflict or drama; the most significant episodes feature Paterson’s bus breaking down, the English bull terrier Marvin – whom Paterson doesn’t care for but girlfriend Laura (Golshifteh Farahani) dotes on – destroying his book of poetry, and an altercation at the local bar involving a gun that turns out to be a water pistol. And Paterson takes it all in his stride, genial to the last, even the ruination of his most earnest, devoted work (the only disappoint

Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.

Pulp Fiction (1994) (SPOILERS) From a UK perspective, Pulp Fiction ’s success seemed like a fait accompli; Reservoir Dogs had gone beyond the mere cult item it was Stateside and impacted mainstream culture itself (hard to believe now that it was once banned on home video); it was a case of Tarantino filling a gap in the market no one knew was there until he drew attention to it (and which quickly became over-saturated with pale imitators subsequently). Where his debut was a grower, Pulp Fiction hit the ground running, an instant critical and commercial success (it won the Palme d’Or four months before its release), only made cooler by being robbed of the Best Picture Oscar by Forrest Gump . And unlike some famously-cited should-have-beens, Tarantino’s masterpiece really did deserve it.

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.