Friday, November 14, 2014

STARGATE: A Galaxy Near Near Away

In which Kurt Russell teaches an alien human how to smoke.


Director: Roland Emmerich
Writers: Dean Devlin, Roland Emmerich
Cast: James Spader, Kurt Russell, Jaye Davidson
Runtime: 121 mins.
1994

Only after I started watching Stargate did I realize how complementary it was to Christopher Nolan's new blockbuster film event, Interstellar. Both feature humans traveling through wormholes to the far reaches of the universe. Both are directed by men known for their summer popcorn bombast (though Roland Emmerich wouldn't enter the cultural consciousness in a big way until his next movie, Independence Day). They're both... did I mention the outer space stuff?

I've run out of similarities so soon because, for all its flaws, Interstellar is a movie with heart, soul, and an artistic vision. Stargate is a movie with three independent fight scenes all taking place in the same poorly designed, Egyptian-themed, paintball-esque corridor.

Going into this movie, I didn't realize that it was the source material for the decently popular decades-spanning television franchise that included the shows Stargate SG-1, Stargate: Atlantis, and Stargate: Universe. It makes sense. A world in which we humans have discovered a centuries-old wormhole device that allows us to dial in to different destinations in the universe--the premise of the Stargate movie and the subsequent shows--would provide much fodder for syndicated entertainment. Indeed, the only part of the movie worth anything at all is the initial anticipation of what will be found on the other side of that portal. Emmerich is in a hurry to do away with that wonder. The characters enter the portal and nobody seems all that impressed by the alien world they have discovered, nor is it all that impressive. However, I'm guessing wonder plays more of a factor in the television show. It's always nice when folks can rip a good idea from the clutches of fools.

The fools under consideration are Roland Emmerich and his long time writing partner, Dean Devlin. The two of them began the Stargate process with what can only be called a "cool idea" and ended with what can only be called a "heaping pile." But I'm getting ahead of myself.

 Setting aside the botched ode to Spielberg that is the opening sequence's 1928 discovery of the titular Stargate (a sequence that not only apes Indiana Jones, but is annoyingly reminiscent of the opening to 1993's Jurassic Park), the first characters we meet are the protagonists: James Spader's discredited Egyptologist Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Kurt Russell's mourning military man Col. Jack O'Neil. To give you an idea of the expository subtlety of our filmmakers, the following is our introduction to the Colonel:

Two military men strut into the Colonel's house and ask his wife if they might be able to speak with him. "You can try," she responds, dragging on a cigarette. We are then treated to a lengthy pan over children's toys and a picture of a young boy, which cuts to a morose Kurt Russell fondling a gun. He is clearly tormented by the death of his acting career the boy in the picture. He hides the gun under a pillow as the military men enter the room to inform him he has been reactivated.

Painfully obvious exposition, right? Well, the scene ends with the military men sharing this exchange as they drive off.

"The guy's a mess. How'd he get like that?"

"His kid died. He accidentally shot himself."

"Jesus."

REALLY. I guess Emmerich wanted to make sure we didn't miss the only piece of characterization Colonel O'Neil was to be granted.


I digress. The major players all meet up at nasaplace and exchange some science mambo jambo before they're ready to enter the wormhole. The team will be James Spader and a crew cut crew. Their goal will be to enter the Stargate and figure out how to use the Stargate on the other side to return to earth, although they would have attained that meager goal by simply not going through the Stargate in the first place. But I guess they want to see what aliens are like.

I was excited when I saw a Creature Effects title card during the overlong opening credits. I anticipated cool practical effects--Emmerich did some groundbreaking original effects work in Independence Day, after all. Unfortunately, the only creatures featured in Stargate are some pack animal camel-yak things that had been done far better in the original Star Wars films. It turns out that across the universe, there is an ancient Egyptian civilization of humans living in fear of the literalized god Ra, who also looks like a human. Color me cynical, but this is a sci-fi movie goddamnit, can't you come up with something more interesting to inhabit a faraway planet than "ancient Egypt people with cartoonishly antiquated customs"?

Anyway, the movie just sort of treads sand after that as James Spader makes out with a sex slave, Kurt Russell shoots people wearing Anubis masks, and everyone else flamboyantly cocks their assault rifles whenever they get nervous.

A great deal of Stargate is dedicated to an absurdly offensive colonialist narrative that tries to become vaguely anti-colonialist later on. The white guys communicate with the brown guys primarily through miming, chicken noises, and condescension. "I guess you guys don't know what a dweeb is," Kurt Russell opines when he's trying to get a group of natives to tell him where James Spader went. "It tastes like chicken," James Spader quips when he is forced to sample their disgusting native cuisine for fear of offending them. The portrayal of smart sciencey white people being worshipped by a race of superstitious dum-dums is played off like one big joke, with cultural politics no more sophisticated than the worst of the western genre. Except instead of American Indians, this time white people get to dominate ancient Egyptians, since we didn't get the chance to do that the first time around.


I couldn't stop wondering how the main actors could have agreed to participate in this slop, despite having presumably read the script. I found an answer from the mouth of none other than Spader himself. Here he is, explaining why he acted in Stargate:

"Acting, for me, is a passion, but it's also a job, and I've always approached it as such. I have a certain manual-labourist view of acting. There's no shame in taking a film because you need some fucking money."

There you have it. It turns out that in addition to being the most clear-headed about the merits of the film, Spader is also the only one doing anything vaguely interesting with it. The barely-concealed disdain for his role is shrouded by some entertaining character quirks that make him sort of fun to watch.


The same can't be said of Kurt's Colonel, who sleepwalks through the movie, only waking up long enough to participate in exchanges like his final "I think I'm gonna be fine!" catharsis moment, which reads as depressingly disingenuous.

The other characters are non-starters. It's bad when a guy tells James Spader at the end, "I knew you could do it!" and I couldn't remember if the two of them had ever interacted before. (Spoiler alert: James Spader does it.) The only other name worth mentioning is Jaye Davidson, who has a mildly entertaining role as the antagonist Ra. As the story goes, Davidson hated his costume so much that at the end of the final day of shooting, he stripped naked on set the moment the cameras stopped rolling. He never acted in another film.

Between the dubious cultural politics, the bad CGI, and the gratuitous use of Kurt Russell, this is a 90s movie through and through. It should come as no surprise, then, that Emmerich and Devlin are seeking to reboot Stargate and make it into a trilogy. If it feels like not enough time has passed, consider that Stargate was the first film ever to have an official website... for what that's worth. I guess after ruining Godzilla, Shakespeare, and the Mayan apocalypse for the rest of us, Emmerich has finally fallen back on ruining his own filmography, starting with Independence Day. At least that movie will be a sequel. You can't even call the new Stargate a reboot, seeing as how the same people will be working on it. Maybe a re-do?

It's pathetic. Can you imagine Christopher Nolan remaking one of his previous movies? A remake of The Prestige? Or Memento? The notion is ridiculous. He hardly wanted to make a third Batman.

It's always been clear that Emmerich wields a tremendous lack of restraint in his films, but Stargate should have been so much better. The film holds no interest. Not for the audience, anyway.

0.5 / 5  BLOBS

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