GLENN KENNY'S REVIEW (posted 5/13/03)

I imagine George Lucas must be having a healthy chortle right about now. Because right about now, Larry and Andy Wachowski, the writing-directing brothers behind the sci-fi phenom The Matrix, are being subjected to just the kind of ruthless, relentless, almost maniacal creative second-guessing that’s been dogging Lucas himself ever since he was foolhardy enough to stock Return of the Jedi with Ewoks. Of course, the Wachowski brothers don’t have to take a lot of it, since it’s in their contract that they never have to talk to press (and I’m sure there’s a part of Lucas asking himself, “Why didn’t I think of that?”), but even at a lofty remove, the snipes getting lobbed at the second installment of their trilogy, The Matrix Reloaded, must be pretty unpleasant.

Most Internet adepts are familiar with the plaints already. That the so-called Burly Brawl looks PlayStationish. That Reloaded doesn’t deliver the same kind of mind-you-know-what the first film did. That the celebration in Zion looks like a cheesy, PG-13–rated version of the Burning Man festival or something. That Anthony Zerbe’s presence practically screams B-movie. And so on, and so on, and so on. To which I might add, the Wachowski brothers, for all their skills at engineering mind-blowing action and launching mind-bending philosophical conundrums, seem to have some problems in creating a convincing and emotionally engaging love story. If you think the Grand Passion of Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala is hampered by limp dialogue and indolent execution, well, Neo and Trinity make those two look like Tristan and Isolde (or even Han Solo and Princess Leia) by comparison. Which wouldn’t matter if the Wachowskis hadn’t tried to go there. But they want so badly to go there that they undercut everything the people who thought that The Matrix redefined cinema found cool about it. When a disquisition on the metaphysics of cybernetics ends with a punch line that’s a variant on the old “lady and the tiger” gambit, you know that, Cornel West cameo or no Cornel West cameo, the intellectual aspirations of this series are just window dressing.

Which left this viewer to enjoy the freeway chase sequence (which really is cool), Hugo Weaving’s smirk, and even the PlayStationish stuff. And to wonder how Monica Bellucci’s neck got that red rash, whether the Wachowskis watched Ghostbusters or The Frighteners before they came up with those twins, and so on. For some fans, this will embody what the writer Todd Hanson has called “the inevitable anticlimax.” For those who go in knowing, at heart, it’s just a Joel Silver–produced sci-fi film with some presumptions, it’ll be fine. And here’s another thing George Lucas may wish he had thought off—this whole thing gets wrapped up in November, not in two years. Less time for people to bitch.

—Glenn Kenny

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