Ghost In the Shell: Erasure Steals its Identity.

Despite that title there's nothing that say a live-action Ghost in The Shell film featuring a predominantly white cast has to fail. Sure it's probably not what you want everyone talking about, but still. It's true that the original manga, and subsequent film, touched on very Japanese themes of identity and transhumanism. However as technology has evolved those very themes have come to encompass much of Western culture. Hell if we're being picky Cyberpunk only began as part of Western culture, with the debut of William Gibson's Neuromancer in 1984, a full five years ahead of Masume Shirow's manga. At it's heart Ghost in the Shell is a detective story and much of the cyberpunk aspect is set dressing inserted to realise the story's themes.

But while there's no obligation for this to be bad it apparently won't stop the creative team from trying. Taking an original idea about identity in a technological world and sucking it of all creative and thematic distinctiveness.

It's a film that's bad at pretty much every level. From the writing to the cinematography, the editing, fight choreography, set design. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised to lean if the on-set catering wasn't up to scratch. Worse still it tries to take the issues of white-washing and handwave it away with 2nd act revelations that neither serve as a consistent theme nor impact the character beyond this.

The plot is as good a place as any to start with. After opening with a faithful recreation of the original film's title sequence we awaken to discover Mira Killian. A victim of anseen terrorist attack, Mira's mind has been successfully transplanted into a top of the line, android body by the typically sinister Hanka Robotics. A year later she's a Major in Section 9, a counter-terrorist taskforce whose main case is taking down a notorious hacker named Kuse (changed from the animated film's 'Puppet Master because that would sound way too cool). While Kuse consistently seems to be one step ahead investigating him uncovers a conspiracy within Hanka that has ties to the Major's true origins, forcing the Major and Section 9 to go rogue under fire from the corporation itself.

Simple enough stuff. The only problem is that it wants to make a big deal about the Major's real identity and her reclaiming it, but only in the second act. It's almost as if they only noticed the big sore point of casting a Japanese property with a predominantly white cast and decided to insert the Mokoto identity at the last minute. Indeed in the beginning the Major seems to have no concerns about her true identity, or indeed any motivation that makes any kind of coherent sense. She defiantly declares her determination to track Kuse as being 'what she's built for' even though she and the audience know that isn't the case.

Incidentally this statement about Kuse has nothing to do with the line of dialogue she's responding to. Rather than have scenes play out organically GITS seems to just shove whatever it needs into individual scenes to communicate their respective emotions. At one point, fearing he's come to kill her, the Major refers to Bato as a 'Company Man', even though nothing about his character suggests this distinction. Seriously, the guy lazes about during briefings, drinks on the job and obviously maintains a healthy personal life. He's far better established as the 'Major's Man' even if he gets the short shrift in terms of story.

That lack of organic storytelling is what permeates through so much of Ghost in the Shell to render it hollow. Rather than build intricately designed sets with obvious dietetic function the set designers just slap a little neon tubing over modern day objects. Rather than arrange someone's office to reflect its owner's personality or the scene's tone it just shoves a bit of future tech into the background, regardless of functionality. The result is scenes which look empty. These aren't bars or offices, they're sets. These aren't conversations between two people, they're clunky lines of exposition from a script. And those aren't the (oddly deserted) streets of Japan, they're a CGI rendering dressed up with Anime artwork.

Save for the admirable efforts of the actors nothing about this film feels real. As with the original the action beats are just a pick and mix of the more iconic moments from the Manga. This time though the gaps between each beat offer little in the way of new information. Something desperately needed for this detective story. Images like the Geisha-bots, the invisible foot chase and the Tank battle just ring of fan-service. Ideas inserted into the film with no thought into how they should fit into an over arching story. Which just leaves the film feeling hollow and confused.

The Mokoto b-story only serves to clutter the already overlong A-story and changes nothing about the Major's character or informs her final descisions in the climax. A climax which, by the way, is utterly undermined by removing the weighty issues of transhumanism the original film dedicated ample time on. Reducing one of the greatest films of all time into just another empty action move.

Spaceship: Alienantion on a Budget.

If nothing else Spaceship is the best depiction of alienated teenagers in a good, long time. the plot is sparse, its characters are passive to the point of inertia and the design is outright bonkers. Everything about the setting is suggestive of events happening entirely in reality. Scenes take place on grimy council estates, dense woodland and army barracks. Yet the tone, dialogue and look feel like something from another planet. At first it feels frustrating as the film sacrifices any genuine story for constant flights of fancy but as Spaceship goes on it becomes clear what is going it. All this whimsy is in fact an ambitious attempt to articulate the disconnect between contemporary teens and an older, more grounded audience.

Our story nominally follows Lucidia (Alexa Davies) a disaffected and death obsessed ‘Cyber-Goth’ still reeling from the mysterious death of her mother. Her father Gabriel (Antti Reini) is an archaeologist, far more focused in digging through the past than observing the present. When Lucidia is abducted by a set of bright lights in the sky, Gabriel must connect with the weird world of her teenage friends in order to find her. His journey not only brings him face-to-face with the inherently alien nature of contemporary youth but also his past traumas. Traumas that Gabriel will have to come to terms with to find Lucidia.

It’s a testament to Reini’s talents that Gabriel is presented as a character utterly out-of-touch with almost everything, yet remains wholly sympathetic. The resignation with which he approaches Lucidia’s obvious depression and subsequent disappearance are palpable cries of desperation. Yet his demeanour begins to break the closer he gets to his daughter, endearing us as he reaches a state of lucidity. Not exactly subtle and certainly not hard to predict, but affecting.

The real star of this film though is the world it builds and the strange creatures that inhabit it. A world in which everyone is convinced they were once subject to a mass abduction. A world in which boy a disappeared to evolve into vampires. In which shadow creatures emerge from black holes and stalk teenagers dressed in neon and PVC. All of which sounds ridiculous on paper, and would feel so in a less committed film. Spaceship however gives its world such dreamlike atmosphere that you can’t help but become sucked in.

It’s not perfect like any means. Like any dreams much of it seems to go nowhere and many of Spaceship's idiosyncrasies feel superfluous. Scenes which lack thematic connection to Lucidia come and go without payoff. The films ambitions obviously far outstretch it's budget, trying to hold everything together with duct tape and string. However it runs at a brisk pace though and bombards you with the weirdness of its world frequently enough to never break the illusion.

Doctor Strange or How I Learned to Stop Worrying

Yeah, that joke is probably played out by now but it speaks to an inherent truth about the film itself. Doctor Strange is a flawed, flawed film. In its structure, writing, composition, even (and I cringe at saying this) in the performances of its actors. But to say that is to make the situation sound far worse than it is because Doctor Strange is the first film sin Star Wars: The Force Awakens that a film holds together in spite of its flaws. Perhaps it's a critics thing; the fact is that everything that's good about Strange is the kind of by-the-numbers, playful light show that Marvel has been excelling at for eight years now. The bad stuff is just far more interesting to delve into from a critical standpoint and if you're not interested in critique then it's easy to stop worrying and enjoy the ride. That's OK, it's a fun ride. There's just room to improve it.

A good start would have been the opening. An arbitrary action beat to pump up momentum, which it needs to do since the next 90 minutes will be relatively action-free. It feels like a cynical move on Marvel's part, assuming a goldfish-level attention span on the part of its audience. Especially egregious as the proceeding two acts are infinitely more compelling than any amount of building-shifting CGI. Like all the best Marvel films the plot is driven by character and in Cumberbatch's mangled hands Strange is a character to follow halfway across the world. Admittedly the establishing scenes do wear out their welcome. Character actor Michael Stuhlbarg is always a welcome sight but the film dedicates too much time to him as Strange's pre-crash whipping boy. A clumsy demonstration of the pride that goes before his fall.

Then there's the fall itself. It's no easy feat showing a man with so much losing everything until we have to choice but to sympathise. Ironically the result is as hollow as Strange's luxury apartment, compounded by the token presence of Rachel McAdams' in the role of Christine. Make no mistake, McAdams acquits herself well but it's painfully clear throughout that this character only exists as a sounding board for Strange's emotions and expositions.

No the film never really takes off until an hour in when Strange finally arrives at what is basically Nepalese Hogwarts, for an extended training montage. It's there that the film can really show off it's USP; a succession of visually inventive acid trips/magical mind journeys meant to communicate Strange's journey. Strange's arc harks back to Marvel Phase 1 territory; in which a talented egomaniac finds the means and drive to use their great potential for something good. In this case instead of applying his brilliant mind to saving lives as a neurosurgeon, Strange discovers he can save entire dimensions by applying himself to the mystical arts.

It's here that Cumberbatch endears himself to us. Presenting a man accustomed to being the best in his field now held back by doubt, in both his situation and himself. With each victory bringing a visually unique delight. Delights which only increase as Strange's rebuilds his self-confidence. It's not exactly Neo learning to accept the unreality of The Matrix but rather typical Marvel fun.

Eventually though the film has to build to a traditional climax involving a face-off against Strange's polar opposite. In this case Mads Mikkelsen as the guylinered Kaecilius whoese motivations are typically all-encompassing and vague for a Marvel villain. A rogue pupil of Tilda Swinton's Ancient One, using the mystical arts to summon a malevolent god to bring the universe to a plain of infinite life...and you know what it doesn't matter. By now everyone knows Marvel's terrible track record of villains. Not to mention the fact that their films are more about heroism being an outlet for flawed men (for it is always men) to resolve their personal baggage.

Strange makes that thing clear more than anything as it proceeds to run out the clock with a series of impressive set pieces and effects sequences. Even the heavily promoted shots of New York City folding in on itself ultimately does nothing to move the plot along.

And then there's the ending, a clever piece of abstract thinking in which Strange traps the Dark god Dormammu in an infinte loop of time. Only releasing him if he leaves Earth and takes Kaecilius with him. It's a clever solution but dogged by a hurried execution. There's an opportunity for an entire Groundhog Day of scenes in which Domammu tries to torture Strange into releasing him, then maybe ignoring him, toying with him maybe even reasoning with him. Imagine Strange whining about his relationship troubles to a god who exists beyond space and time. Imagine Dormammu relenting, abandoning his conquest of Earth just to be rid of Cumberbatch. Instead Dormammu just tortures Strange for a few minutes before getting bored. Undermining any power he may have possessed as a villain.

It's an ending indicative of the quality of Doctor Strange; a film full of good ideas that could have been so much better. Cumberbatch cuts himself a distinctive character in a universe already brimming with compelling leads. And despite their lack of impact the various visual effects feel original, fun and inventive. The pieces are all great, just muddled in the way they're put together.