Liiiiinnnnnndeeeeellllhooffffffff!!!

“You know cold fusion isn’t actually cold, right? It’s only ‘cold’ in the sense that opposed to regular fusion it’s not a bazillion degrees hot…And did you say Spock was in the volcano? Why the hell didn’t they just beam the bomb in there?…And why did Spock have to go with the bomb to set it off? Are you telling me in the 23rd century that people don’t have a way to detonate bombs remotely?”

Io9’s Rob Bricken offers a much-deserved evisceration of Star Trek: Into Darkness (and he doesn’t even bring up the “why Khan’s blood but not one of the other 71 guys” problem.) The first one had a number of egregious plot holes too, of course, but it at least had a charming cast and the benefit of novelty. The charming cast remains, but since Into Darkness is otherwise just a lousy and ultimately insulting remix of Wrath of Khan with a frisson of 9/11, the extreme dumbness here is even more aggravating.

I would say this does not bode well at all for the upcoming Star Wars films, but it seems pretty obvious the main problem here was the writing. Star Trek: Into Darkness is the most blatantly nonsensical film since Prometheus, which I called the most disappointing film of 2012. The most disappointing film of 2011? Cowboys & Aliens. All three were co-penned by Damon Lindelof, who’s clearly supplanted Akiva Goldsman as the hackiest hack in Hollywood. He’s like franchise kryptonite.

Avengers, Defenders, Mousketeers.

“‘We believe that adding Marvel to Disney’s unique portfolio of brands provides significant opportunities for long-term growth and value creation,’ said Disney President and Chief Executive Robert A. Iger.” Spidey, meet the Mouse: Disney buys Marvel for $4 billion.

And, in very related news, Fox announces another Fantastic Four reboot, with — true to Fox form — the hackmeisterly Akiva Goldsman at the helm. “Though Marvel Entertainment owns and finances properties like ‘Iron Man’ and ‘Thor,’ Fox controls ‘Fantastic Four’ in perpetuity — as long as it continues making the films. Fox has the same arrangement on Marvel Comics properties ‘X-Men,’ ‘Daredevil’ and “Silver Surfer.“

Mona Lisa Frown.

So, I was one of the minority of people out there who had not already read Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code when I ventured into the theater last week for a look-see at the film version (although various people had filled me in on most of the major plot points over the years.) This was partly because I had been told a few times that the novel read like a piece of cinema anyway, so I figured that, contrary to my usual m.o., I’d just wait for the movie. Well, unfortunately, Ron Howard’s film plays at best like a book-on-tape, one that might’ve made for a good airplane listen if the people involved hadn’t taken this enterprise so seriously. As it is, unless you relish usually likable actors spouting forth clunky, Akiva Goldman-penned chunks of exposition at you for two and half hours, leave this Code undeciphered.

Like I said, I’m really late to this party, so you probably don’t need me to summarize the basic gist here. In any case, world-renowned symbologist Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks), a Harvard professor prone to monologuing and/or gasping in awe when confronted with ancient relics (thank goodness, or otherwise he’d have nothing to do here) is thrust into a murder mystery after a colleague is found dead at the Louvre, his body bloodied by his own hand and laid out like Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. (As we saw in one of the movie’s creepier scenes (also in the trailer), this fellow was killed — under the watchful eyes of countless mournful Madonnas — by the albino monk Silas, an operative of Opus Dei with some serious body issues.) Soon, with the aid of the dead man’s painterly granddaughter, Sophie (Audrey Tautou), Langdon embarks on a quest to uncover the meaning behind the man’s murder, and, while puzzling and ciphering away, inadvertently stumbles onto a two-thousand-year-old conspiracy involving the divinity of Jesus and the Holy Grail, one that certain conspiring cardinals (Alfred Molina) and their pet monks will kill to keep under wraps…

That’s the upshot, and, as you can see, this has all the makings for a decent potboiler. And, at times, watching Hanks and Tautou puzzle away or seeing the film flashback to the Cecil B. DeMille days, one gets the sense that the Da Vinci Code is probably a thoroughly enjoyable beach book. But, as a film — or at least as this ponderous, too weighty-by-half film — it’s a total non-starter. Howard, Hanks, and Tautou can’t seem to stop treating this movie as an epic, when what it really needed was a slapdash of Raiders of the Lost Ark tongue-in-cheek. (In fact, I thought Nicolas Cage’s campy Da Vinci knock-off National Treasure came closer to the unapologetic B-movie tone needed here.) On the bright side, Ian McKellen (as a wry Grail historian, gleefully chewing his way through yet another bad summer movie), Molina (himself an Ark alumnus), and — briefly — Jurgen Prochnow (as a shifty Swiss banker) seem to have a better sense of the proceedings here, and they add some much-needed levity and narrative kick whenever they’re onscreen. Still, their best efforts aren’t enough to recommend Da Vinci, a film that needed less clumsy exposition and a jauntier sense of fun throughout. As it is, The Da Vinci Code is a rather staid canvas.

Last Man Standing.

The long-stalled film version of Richard Matheson’s I am Legend (or third version, if you want to count Last Man on Earth and Charlton Heston’s The Omega Man) moves forward with Will Smith in the lead and Constantine‘s Francis Lawrence at the helm. Hmmm. Will Smith can be a good actor at times, but the fact that hackmeister Akiva Goldsman penned the script suggests to me that this’ll be a forgettable adaptation.

Grimm Fandango.

Finally, the Labor Day nightcap was Terry Gilliam’s latest outing, The Brothers Grimm, which has been getting panned in the reviews. Well, it’s not as bad as it’s being made out to be, but I can’t say it’s very good either. Long-time Gilliam fans will probably get a kick out of seeing his eye applied to several classic fairy tales — I sure did. But ultimately the film is a mess, with subpar special effects and a terrible, terrible script that borders on the incoherent. In fact, I can’t figure out for the life of me how Ehren Krueger (and, while I’m hating, Akiva Goldsman) keep getting gigs…they’re out-and-out hacks, the Paul Anderson and Brett Ratner of screenwriting. Brothers Grim indeed.

So, what’s good? Well, as you might expect, the best parts of the film are the Gilliamesque visual flourishes. When the movie involves enchanted forests or sleeping beauties or malevolent mirrors or little red riding…capes, Gilliam is in his element, and his kid-in-a-candy-store enthusiasm is infectious. If you’re a aficionado of the guy, these moments almost make the film worthwhile on their own…almost. Art direction aside, however, the effects often have a real budget FX-house look to them. (Memo to the studios: CGI and werewolves don’t ever seem to mix — cf. this, Underworld, American Werewolf in Paris, etc.) If your tale involves a man-wolf of any kind whatsoever, use an old-school make-up guy like Rick Baker or Rob Bottin.)

And, the story…oof. For what it’s worth, Matt Damon (Will) and Heath Ledger (Jakob) both acquit themselves admirably as the brothers/ghostbusters, and Damon in particular has a gleam in his eye that suggests he’d make an even worse movie if it meant he could continue to hang around the Gilliamverse. But the Brothers Grimm are cursed with a grafted-on fraternal backstory — Will wants to protect Jakob, Jakob wants Will to believe in him — that feels artificial from the start and forces them to spit out increasingly unwieldy chunks of character development as the movie progresses.

Worse, scenes just happen one after another with no feeling of narrative development at all. The brothers are in a dungeon, no…the forest, no…the dungeon again, and so on. The brilliant Jonathan Pryce is wasted in a subplot involving a French general that never makes one iota of sense. (Mackenzie Crook, a.k.a. Gareth from The Office, is also wasted, in more ways than one.) And Pryce’s henchman, the usually amiable Peter Stormare, singlehandledly ruins every scene he’s in with a grotesquely hammy performance of Olympian proportions — seriously, he makes Anthony Hopkins in Bram Stoker’s Dracula seem like Ralph Fiennes in The Constant Gardener. Conversely, the film could have used a good deal more of Monica Bellucci’s evil queen (but, to be fair, most films, and most endeavors in life, could stand to use more Monica Bellucci…the world would be a happier place for it.)

Ultimately, the Brothers Grimm is less grim than it is sadly pedestrian, and it has to be counted as a occasionally diverting swing-and-a-miss for Gilliam. But, I’d say that’s more due to the weakness of the material here than it is Gilliam, who shows flashes of his usual mojo. As such, I still have high hopes for Tideland, which, thankfully, is right around the corner.