Wild, Wild, West

    If you're ever stood up for coronary surgery and you're searching for something equally fun to take its place in eating up a little of your valuable time, you really can't go wrong with this movie. In fact, Wild, Wild, West shares much in common with a heart bypass operation.

• It's exceptionally painful.
• It takes much longer than it should
• It might take months from which to recover; in fact you might never recover at all.
• In retrospect, the stimuli leading to its necessity seem stupid and avoidable; however, at the time, they seemed harmless and perhaps even fun.

    In fact, had I a choice, I'd choose heart surgery over Wild, Wild, West. Why? I understand that you can finagle a lolly-pop out of the doctor when you're done. Which means that heart surgery leaves you with at least a sweet taste in your mouth when it's all over.

Let's get the ratings out of the way first, shall we?
Gore: 5
Schmaltz: 7
Character Development: 2
Sturgeon Principle: Falls in the middle 50th percentile.

    You know how these nostalgia films get made, right? Am I right? Someone sits back in his chair and stares blankly at his overdue alimony payment. He frowns a mighty frown and thinks to himself 'Geez Cheez, I need to make a lot of money fast!'. So he puts in a call to the ferrets down in legal who scour the last shreds of decency left in our world for something as yet unsullied to be dragged kicking and screaming out of the vaults, to be served on the dinner plate of the movie-going public. Something with name-recognition. Something updatable. Something you can cram some hot actors into and pray that they make good on your complete lack of planning and forethought in scripting, directing or producing.
    In short, you get Wild, Wild, West
    I was very prepared to love this film. Honestly, when I first saw a movie post for it, all of my favorite elements were there. Will Smith -- I'm not a rap fan, but I've developed a pretty heavy regard for his acting talents -- was there, and Holy Murphy, he might be reprising an anachronistic version of his MiB role! There was also a giant, mechanical, steam-works spider, 19th century tech, large as life and twice as heady.
    I love steampunk. I love Victorian SF. I love retro when it's done with a fresh flare and not a casual disregard for the past in the pursuit of sweet money. I was ready to love this film. So what happened?
    The movie was unfunny. The humour was juvenile. The setting tried to be both hip-pop and the West at once and failed in both. The characters tried to take everything over the top and managed to fall off of the water-tower every time. In short, there was a palmipsest of a good movie that occasionally poked through the otherwise mediocre and lacklustre film.
    Honestly, I'm glad this movie bombed. It won't send a message to Hollywood -- Hollywood has long since rendered itself inured to such things as Listening to the Public -- but perhaps it will serve as a warning to gentlemen such as Will Smith to please, read your contracts before you sign them. And get script approval. Please.
    Oh, and Smith's MiB Rap was quite well done. It gave equal time to both his character and Jones', and generally summarized the film's premise without a whole lot of ego involved. His WWW rap seems to be a valentine to his own import. I certainly hope that this isn't the beginning of the end for Smith's sense of modesty.
I give two Silence Glaives. DIE!
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