Matrix Revolutions vs Bruce Almighty

I caught a fair amount of grief for being mean (read: honest) about The Matrix Reloaded. So, before you read any further, you should know: on the whole, I liked The Matrix Revolutions, and I have every intention of saying nice things about it right here in this review. You’re gonna have to wade through some gripes too though, so be patient with me. If it’s any consolation, later on I rip Jim Carrey a new one.

So, if you haven’t seen Matrix Revolutions, here’s what you need to know:

Neo is lost between the machine world and Zion, and is having to contend with some new programs, namely a subway station he can’t get out of, and an Indian family who fully acknowledge that they are computer programs, and don’t seem to mind much. They have a little daughter, featured throughout the movie, and I suppose she represents the potential—or the threat—of man and machine coexisting (she’s actually just a cute, wooden child actor, but I digress). Meanwhile, the machines are invading Zion, using a not-so-subtle drill, and the humans are gearing up for the battle. Trinity and Morpheus are looking for Neo, sort of, and well, that’s it. And you know what? Good. Watched as a whole, the Matrix Trilogy has amazing scenes of action throughout, but it’s not until that final two hours that it lets up some on the Important Dialogue. You know what I mean, the What’s The Meaning Of It All dialogue, that is promptly answered with What Do You Want The Meaning Of It All To Be dialogue. By the last two hours of the Matrix Trilogy, everyone is exhausted by Freshman Philosophy, and just wants to shoot stuff. This means—unfortunately for some viewers—that by the end of the Matrix trilogy, we aren’t spending as much time inside the actual Matrix as we used to. The black fetishwear and sunglasses are gone, replaced by artfully torn earth-tone sweaters. Of course they all still look good. The people of Zion are poor and suffering, but everyone matches, and the really well-built women have flatteringly shredded low-cut outfits.

This time, the battle isn’t being fought on Zion’s behalf as much; it’s being brought right to them. The machines are coming, in basically two different forms: you’ve got your Giant Drill machines, which are these, uh, giant drills and are cranking through the surface of the dome around Zion. When they break through, they just kind of crash to the ground below.  The other machines are the Calamari machines, tentacled swarms of machines that swim through the air in odd patterns. They’re both cool to look at, and neither makes much sense—the purpose of the smaller machines having tentacles and swimming in circles before diving and attacking is?—but I was so glad to finally see something attacking the actual humans.  We don’t really see much of it happening, in a way. We see tons and tons of the machines, swirling around, but as far as humans, it’s always a little murky. There’s uh, Enthusiastic Teen, and uh…Boisterous Commander Guy, and Nona Gaye and the uh…other girl. Otherwise, everyone’s sort of faceless. Most of the Zionites wear these Aliens-esque robot suits with guns at the end of the arms, but Nona—as Zee—and her sidekick use a bazooka. It’s all sort of hard to see, and loud, and it’s never clear where Zee and the other one are in relation to the robot suit guys, but damn it, I like the squid robot things.

For the first time while watching a Matrix movie, I didn’t feel like I was being punished. With all the pop-philosophy and Religion 101 being mumbo-jumboed around, not to mention all the machines-are-evil-despite-being-awesome contradictions, I always felt like the Matrix was telling me: “See? See what’s happened? Now you just sit there and think about what you’ve done.” Despite all the cool effects and deliberate moments of style, the Matrix movies have remained singularly joyless.

Besides a “whoa” in the first movie, there’s never been a moment of fascination or wonder about what Neo can do. He’s a regular guy, for crying out loud, and now he can fly and freeze bullets in mid-air. Oh, and his clothes never get dirty, and he never needs a haircut, and his sunglasses never fall off, and his girlfriend wears head-to-toe black rubber and can do the splits standing up. Doesn’t that at least warrant an occasional “yee-haw”, or I dunno, a smile?

This time, the heavy-handed stuff isn’t over for Keanu. Like the third go round for Luke Skywalker, Neo must make a trip to his mentor for one last bit of advice. He checks in with the Oracle, now played by Anne Marie in place of the deceased Gloria Foster. Marie is fantastic as the Oracle. She’s funny and smart and has less fortune cookie dialogue than the previous two installments (seriously, I don’t know how Foster managed to say her lines without tacking “in bed” to the end of each one. I’m not sure how she died, but I’m going to pretend it was because of her cheesy Matrix Reloaded dialogue.) Neo knows that He’s the only One who can bring peace between the humans and the machines, and that the only way to do this is to defeat the evil multiplying program Agent Smith, played by Hugo Weaving. Ah, Agent Smith, that chatterbox double-breasted suit wearing Terminator. Oh, how I long for you to shut up and fight. But no, in Revolutions, he talks and talks and talks. There’s still a hundred of him, but now his spawns just watch. He’s a program, see, and he knows how everything should play out, so he’s staged his showdown with Neo as almost a mix of drag racing and pay-per-view. He can fly now too, and it all looks very cool. Oh, and he talks so much and it’s all so witty, that I’ve crafted my very first fan letter:

Dear Hugo Weaving,

Shut the fuck up.

Love,

Ryan

The battle with Agent Smith, to be exact, is amazing to look at, but is hopelessly inconsistent. One punch does nothing, while an identical punch later might cause a tremor, or a huge sonic wave, blowing rain out in all directions. When they fly though, and are punching each other and spinning and dropping and the rain is falling…damn you, impressive special effects. Damn you for rocking. Of course, you know that despite Agent Smith’s boasts, he’s going down (seriously, I haven’t rooted for a character’s demise this passionately since I saw The Wedding Planner), but possibly not with the outcome you anticipated.

And just so you don’t think the Matrix Revolutions is all about Neo, let me assure you: The Matrix Revolutions is all about Neo. Remember in the first Matrix movie when Laurence Fishburne was the main dude? And in the second one, when he kicked ass on top of a speeding semi? In this movie, he just sits there. Okay, he’s sitting there in a ship by bad-ass Jada Pinkett Smith as the bad-ass Niobe, but still, sitting is sitting. Did I mention Niobe is a bad-ass?

The French-accented Merovinian and his wife have one scene in Revolutions, in an S&M club inside the Matrix. Monica Bellucci does even less this time (cleavage)—she only has one line that I recall (cleavage)—so I’m not sure what the big fuss (cleavage) was over her being in these movies (cleavage). She even had her own poster (cleavage.) Luckily, she’s countered by Carey-Anne Moss as Trinity, who has no cleavage, but does this sweet scorpion back-kick thing that always happens a lot faster than I think it’s gonna. She has a moment with a gun to the Merovinian’s face and one to hers, that brings everything to a stop yet somehow manages to be more exciting that just about anything else that has come before it.

Meanwhile, the drill is drilling and the squids are swimming.

The battle against the machines is the bulk of the movie, and it gets a little tedious. We really only see three or four people fighting, and they’re almost always backed into a corner, or looking up out of a manhole. No one ever actually comes in physical contact with the machines on camera. Also, since the machines are, you know, machines, then why do the humans depend so much on machines while fighting them? I’d be pullin’ out the firehoses and nets; snare ‘em up and short ‘em out. Go all Ewok on their asses. Also, It’s never clear what life is like in Zion, so we never get a glimpse at what all the fighting is for. It seems like a mixture of prison and camp (so that’s what? A dorm?)

So, in the end…well, I guess you don’t want to know the end, do you? I’ll tell you this: The Matrix Revolutions simultaneously ends exactly as you think it might and in a way that you’d never expect. One thing is a given: Keanu accepts his role as the metaphoric son of God, never raising his voice or even cracking a beatific smile. If only he knew who his father was, he’d have a stronger reaction.

In Bruce Almighty, Jim Carrey gets to be God, a role for which I suspect he’s been preparing for quite some time. This is one of Carrey’s “funny” movies, meaning, it’s a sure fire money-maker and won’t make anyone think he’s turning snobby by, you know, sticking to the script, or keeping his face still while the other actors speak. Every couple of years, Jim Carrey makes a “serious” movie, then spends the time between apologizing his ass off, as if he’s embarrassed he didn’t stick his butt in anyone’s face in The Truman Show, or that Man on the Moon contained so few scenes of dogs urinating. Bruce Almighty is his current apology. He shouldn’t have. Really.

Let’s put it this way: when Carrey finds that he’s endowed with the powers of the utmost, he doesn’t say “God? Really? Me?” Instead, we get the full-press Carrey ad-lib “BINGO! YATZEE! IS THAT YOUR FINAL ANSWER? DING-DING-DING SURVEY SAYS…GOD!”

See what I’m saying? No? Okay then, you should know that by Bruce Almighty’s end, Bruce has uttered the phrase “B. E. A. Utiful!” Four times.

Four times.

Dear Hugo Weaving,

p.s. When you’re done could you pass this letter on to Jim Carrey?

Love,

Ryan

But wait, what, you ask, is Bruce Almighty about? It takes the outline of shallow-guy-makes-good movies like Doc Hollywood and Groundhog Day and adds cheap Sunday school references and extreme facial expressions. Bruce works as a reporter for the local news, doing fluffy human-interest reports. He wants to be anchor, but there are two problems:

1. His competition is played by Steven Carell, who is, as we know, already pretty much the master at making the news funny. He’s great in his role, and in the context of the movie, it’s obvious that he’d be chosen as anchor before Bruce.
2. When Bruce interviews his subjects, he does this awkward move where he crosses his arm in front of his body to the other person, so that in order for them to speak into the microphone, Bruce has to have his back to the camera. Didn’t they cover that on the first day, Bruce? Also, because he’s speaking in a microphone, it’s as if everyone around him for yards away can hear him talking, as if that’s how a microphone works. Weird. Not Bruce’s fault, I know, but the sort of thing one thinks about when a movie isn’t otherwise occupying one’s time. In other words, if Bruce were a good reporter, it wouldn’t be so hard for me to muster sympathy for him when he lost his job. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. He loses his job.

And thus grinds the plot wheels of Bruce Almighty. Considering himself to be a modern-day Job, all because he didn’t get the cushy job he wanted, even though he still has an awesome girlfriend, and let’s face it, his runner-up job is still pretty cool, Bruce gets all pissed at God and renounces and what have you. God, played by Morgan Freeman, gives him the job of Lord holiest etc for a week, to see how he likes it.

All of this would be fine, if Jim Carrey were given a script to keep himself busy. Unfortunately, Bruce Almighty goes for the most obvious jokes and references again and again. You think The Matrix is blatant with its religious overtones?  Watch Bruce Almighty and you’ll see The Matrix as more of the subtle riddle it claims to be. Bruce, like Neo, is gifted with godlike powers, and unlike Neo, he’s excited as can be at his newfound glory. Also unlike Neo, unfortunately, Bruce doesn’t do anything. Oh, to be sure, he performs a few generic biblical stunts--He walks on water, parts his soup like the red sea—and the requisite base-level dude stunts—making his girlfriend’s boobs bigger, teaching his dog to flush the toilet—but in terms of real storytelling or plot or character, he just sits there, and so do we. When he gets down to the business of running the universe, he organizes prayer requests using his computer. He tries filing cabinets, and post-its, both of which prove cumbersome and disruptive to apartment living, so he settles for email. There are bound to be many interesting and visually stimulating ways to show prayer on film. Email isn’t one of them, even* when Carrey types super fast and bugs his eyes out.

Here, read “even” as “especially”.

Luckily, for the first time in a Jim Carrey comedy, his supporting cast is suited for acting counter to his overcompensation over an underwritten script. Jennifer Anniston plays the same role played by Maura Tierney in Liar Liar, Teri Polo in Meet the Parents, and Jennifer Anniston in The Object of My Affection. The makers of Bruce Almighty seem to think that because she works with children she’s obviously kind-hearted, open-minded and charitable, not realizing that we’ll think those things of her the second we realize she’s dating Jim Carrey.

Morgan Freeman plays God, in what I’m thinking might be just a touch of typecasting. He’s relaxed, subtle and funny, but not really given much to do. I was surprised to find that no one major was cast as the Devil, or that the Lord hoariest etc wasn’t even featured in Bruce Almighty. He must not have tested well with audiences. On a positive note, I’m thankful that Bruce Almighty doesn’t feature a scene of Carrey, with a tiny Morgan Freeman on each shoulder, being pulled in opposite directions, simultaneously talking out his ass and saving a kitten from a tree. And isn’t that what this time of year is all about?

By the way, Bruce Almighty features what must be the hundredth Epiphany in the Rain scene. Isn’t it time to retire this cliché?

Matrix Revolutions: B

Bruce Almighty: C-