Album Reviews
Movies
Concert Reviews

Top 10
Resources
Contact Us

My friend Garth sent me an email last week, in which he took me to task for being so nasty in recent reviews. "It wouldn't hurt you to be a little more positive," he wrote, "particularly when we're talking about mindless summer flicks. I mean, no one's expecting Citizen Kane." And I agree. I have been kind of harsh lately, so I resolve that I will try to be a kinder, gentler critic. . . . Starting next week.

But this week I have to review Tomb Raider, one of the most loathsome, worthless piles of vomit to appear on the big screen in some time. The movie is so wretched it sets new lows for both stupidity and tedium, and it also has the distinction of being offensive to both men and women. It is devoid of anything resembling an intelligent thought and instead features mawkish sentimentality and action sequences recycled from the Indiana Jones scrap heap. The only possible reason to go to Tomb Raider is to see Angelina Jolie in various form-fitting outfits, but even there the movie is an irritating bait-and-switch.

Tomb Raider is based on the enormously popular Lara Croft video game series. The unnaturally buxom Lara Croft, armed with various firearms and a seemingly limitless supply of ammo, tries to find various artifacts and, thereby, save the world. The movie follows that formula. Lara Croft, played by the unnaturally buxom Angelina Jolie (Girl, Interrupted), is an almost superhuman action hero. Taking her cues from that great detective Inspector Clouseau, she spends part of her day in simulated warfare with enormous, deadly robots. The rest of the time she spends pining away for her father, who's been dead for FIFTEEN YEARS!!! I realize the grieving process can take a while, but Lara's obsession with her now-gone father borders on the taboo. It also makes for an unbelievably dull movie. Every other scene is a long flashback or dream sequence or fantasy in which Lara remembers or is reunited with her father (played by Jolie's real-life father, Jon Voight). And these scenes don't last just a minute or two, but drag on and on while the syrupy score does its best to wring tears from our eyes. The only thing wrought from my body was a hearty burst of guffaws.

Saving us from this dismal sentimentality is a complicated conspiracy plot. Lara has to stop Manfred Powell (played by stage actor Iain Glen) from finding the two halves of an ancient triangle "buried in space and time." Whoever can join the two parts will have "ultimate power." To add some zip to this otherwise hoary storyline, both Lara and Manfred have only a week to uncover the artifacts, so that the triangle can be joined at the exact moment of "planetary alignment." And if all of this weren't enough, Manfred is also the leader of the Illuminati. Yes, the movie actually invokes that  tired conspiracy.

Tomb Raider's action sequences are mostly shoot-em-up gun battles in old Raiders-of-the-Lost-Ark sets. With the wonders of computer graphics, ancient statues can come to life and lots of things can explode, but it's still just running around, trying to get away from the villains. The Raiders' rip-off reaches its nadir when Lara, involved in a swordfight with a bad guy, suddenly remembers she has a gun and can just blow his head off.

If the movie weren't already stupid and dull, it's also offensively sexist. The fetishization of Angelina's body begins with the opening scene where we're offered lingering close-ups of her butt, breasts, crotch, legs, and arms while she prances around in a very tight shirt and short shorts. Throughout the movie, Lara wears nothing but form-fitting tank tops of various colors. But those hoping for even more of Jolie will be disappointed. There is one slo-mo, back-lit shower sequence, but she's shown from the shoulders up. The exact opposite is true of the rest of the movie--no brains were used in the making of this picture. 

by J. Robert Parks