Above: Chris Evans rides a post-apocalyptic train in Mr. Bong's film
Despite
sometimes taking place in different times and indeed different places entirely,
science fiction works are often preoccupied with the here and now, with writers
using fantastical settings or technologies to explore relevant issues of the
day. Right now, the genre seems to be
focused on class disparity—movies like Neill Blomkamp’s “Elysium,” books like
Suzanne Collins’s “The Hunger Games,” and comics like Greg Rucka and Michael
Lark’s “Lazarus” have all taken a look at the growing schism between the haves
and have-nots using the prism of “the future” and all that that entails.
The latest addition to this artistic movement is “Snowpiercer,” an
adaptation of the French graphic novel “Le Transperceneige” and the first
English-language film from Korean writer/director Bong Joon-ho. Like its sci-fi forerunners, it’s a film that
features some thought-provoking ideas (though I get the sense that it’ll be
remembered more for its visceral action and direction).
“Snowpiercer” begins after an
attempt to stop global warming backfires and plummets the Earth into a new ice
age, rendering nearly all life on the planet extinct. The only survivors are
those aboard titular Snowpiercer, a train circling the globe on a
perpetual engine. There, life is
strictly divided between the decadent first class in the front of the train and
the destitute stowaways in the tail, with the former able to use, abuse, and
discard the latter as they see fit. However,
tail inhabitants Curtis (Chris Evans), Edgar (Jamie Bell), and Gilliam (John
Hurt) kick start a revolution, desperate to overtake the head of the Snowpiercer
and make post-apocalyptic life worth living.
Often times, “Snowpiercer” feels like
a video game, specifically one of the installments in the “Bioshock” franchise.
Rather than focusing on story or
character, the film spends its time exploring the implications of living in a
place built on an extreme philosophy—the survival of humanity at all cost. Thus, the characters exist largely as vessels
for and witnesses to the film’s ideas…at least when they’re not participating
in the movie’s jarring action scenes.
See, Curtis and company’s rebellion requires fighting the train’s
police and civilian militia. And since
bullets are a scarcity aboard the Snowpiercer,
most of the battles involve brutal combat with knives, hatchets, and whatever
blunt instruments the characters can find.
It’s amongst this carnage that Mr. Bong’s technical prowess shines—he
allows the fighting to become more refined as the rebels move forward through
the train cars, going from shaky-cam shots and zoom-ins to steady, controlled images
of brutality that is no less vicious than what has come before.
It doesn’t hurt that the cast is
solid all-around, even though the script doesn't give them much to do. Mr. Evans pulls off a salt-of-the-earth, blue
collar affectation for most of the movie (until the third act, when he breaks
down and explains the horrible realities of life in the caboose and doesn’t
miss a step going); and Song Kang-ho is memorable as an enigmatic security
expert helping the resistance (as is Go Ah-sung as his wide-eyed, clairvoyant
daughter). However, the show is nearly
stolen by Tilda Swinton as the villainous Minister Mason, who chews the scenery
through false teeth and spits venom at the lower class with an ugly Scottish
accent.
It’s a bizarre performance, to say
the least. Yet what’s strangest about
“Snowpiercer” is how oddly paced it is. The
first third of the film is loaded with action—the revolution starts early,
leaving little room for characterization. And while this quick commencement of
hostilities is attention-getting and engaging, it means that when allies start dying
for the cause, there’s much less impact than one might hope. And even though the movie’s middle segment
thankfully slows to take a breath as the rebels see how the other half lives
for the first time (capped by a perversely gleeful visit to a front-of-the-train
grade school), the damage is already done.
By the time we reach act three and the true need of the uprising is made
clear, the film has become too imbalanced to be affecting.
At the end of it all, I’d still give
“Snowpiercer” a recommendation—perhaps not for the story or the characters, but
definitely for the action, the production design, and the direction. It may not change anyone’s life, but it’s a
fun, engaging piece of science-fiction that may even have something to say
about what truly makes us human in the most extreme of circumstances.
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