Snyder Revisited — Part I of III
Sucker Punch (2011)
Now, before going on with this review, I would first like to state that this had to be one of the more frustrating theatrical experiences in a long while. The reason for saying this was that the director had obviously had something personal to say with this film, which had vanity project written ALL over it! For those that are not in the know, the director that I speak of is Zack Snyder, the man that brought the world a more gritty interpretation of Dawn of the Dead (2003), in addition to the evocative adaptation of a comic book classic Watchmen (2009). What these two films have in common, was that they were already established properties. The difference between those aforementioned films to the one under review is that this was based on an original story from Snyder himself. Which begs the question: can a director like Snyder really tell a coherent story that can stand on its own two feet?
The film starts off with a mood that is as dull as a rusty knife and as creepy as a Marylyn Manson music video. In addition to the creepy mood, the audience is introduced to Baby Doll (Emily Browning) and her little sister, who are suffering the tragic passing of their mother. To makes matters even worse, the both of them were left in the custody of their evil stepfather (Gerald Plunkett); and as soon as he makes the discovery that the children would inherent ALL of their mother’s possessions, the stepfather goes into a rage up to the point where makes the decision to rape Baby Doll, only then to change his mind and tries to rape her younger sister. In a scramble, Baby Doll climbs down into the pouring rain to search for a weapon. Just as the stepfather was about rape the younger sister, Baby Doll and the Stepfather engage in a brief scuffle that ends in the accidental murder of her own sister.
What had just unfolded, which happens in the first five minutes, was supposed to create this atmosphere of menace and horror. What was the intention of the scene in the first place? Was it to be an action set piece or whimsical musical number? The point of the scene was to show the horror and the threat of rape to which there was nothing; hollow, in which this one scene truly defined the movie. Oh, and another thing. The film didn’t even address in what time period that this story takes place. The architecture, the clothing, and some of the various vehicles seem to suggest that this takes place in the late 40s to early 50s.
Anyways, after the accidental death of her sister, the stepfather sends Baby Doll to an institution for the criminally insane. At this point in the story, Snyder seems like he has no idea what he’s doing as a practician of coherent narrative. For instance, when baby Doll finally utters her first words, the dialogue doesn’t seem to have the impact that it wanted to have. Her first words didn’t pop out, in other words. After spending just a few minutes in this world, we are given an introduction to Dr. Vera Gorski (Carla Gugino), a sympathetic therapist who uses unorthodox methods of treating her patients by going on a stage. In addition, we are given an appropriate introduction to a slimy orderly (Oscar Issac), who is a character that the audience can truly hate. Finally, we’re given an introduction to Baby Doll’s allies Sweet pea (Abbie Cornish) and her sister Rocket (Jenna Malone), who proved to be one of the stronger characters in the film. The other two characters, who later proved to be mere token and pointless characters, were Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens) and Amber (Jamie Chung). In an all too brief appearance, almost reduced to a cameo really, was the Doctor (Jon Hamm).
After spending a brief time in the first layer the real world, the audience is introduced to the second layer, which was Baby Doll’s fantasy world; and in this fantasy world, she views this asylum as a brothel or burlesque house, and the characters are a mere employees. The slimy orderly becomes a sleazy pimp who runs the place. The sympathetic doctor Gorski becomes a prostitute turned dance instructor and the rest of the inmates were turned into prostitutes. As for Baby Doll, she sees herself as an object of high desire that is to be sold by the end of the week to a “Hight Roller?” Now, before she is to be sold to this High Roller, the house wants to know if she can actually dance. As soon as she musters up the courage to dance, the audience is slammed into this third layer, a completely different fantasy world altogether. In this level, she meets a wise man — yes, that is his actual name in the movie (Scott Glenn), who tells her that she would need four items: a lighter, a knife, a map, and a key.
What? Slam on the brakes for a second. How is this third layer justified in the overall perspective of the narrative? The third layer of her fantasy world, which contained high-powered actions sequences that have no real purpose whatsoever. It’s as if the third layer uses the violence to represent her “dancing”? After the action sequences had concluded, people around her would clap, cheer, and even cried. Why? We haven’t even seen her actually dance. All she did was nonchalantly swaying back and forth, which was excruciating. That being said, Warner bros had to cut the actually dancing sequences after a few failed test screenings.
Sadly, this film suffers as the behest of the directors ego, who really believes that he really made a good movie here. But the sad truth of the matter is that I and a few others don’t really see it that way. It’s directors like Richard Kelly (Southland Tales), M. Night Shyamalan (The Last Air Bender), and Paul W.S. Anderson (Resident Evil: Afterlife), that they generated enough clout at some point in their careers and decided to make their personal projects and FAIL miserably in the end. But if those failures make boatloads of cash who, who cares right? No. Even duds like this one
I do realize that there are few — and I mean very few exceptions to where directors have produced successful personal projects. Take for example James Cameron (Avatar, Titanic), Christopher Nolan (Inception), and Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings). In contrast to those failed films, this one was not a total bomb, meaning that the usual Snyder trademarks were there: slow mo shots aligned with rock n’ roll tracks, meticulous shot compositions, and wooden dialogue. But after that frustrating experience, I was forced to do what I thought I would never do: reevaluate a director’s entire filmography. Again, after a little soul searching, I realized that this one film made the rest of his body of work look worse — worse than originally thought.
Grade: 2 out of 5
