X-Men: Dark Phoenix

When you go into a film with extremely low expectations, even a terrible film can be acceptable. And, boy, this was a bad film. 

The writing and directing, both by Simon Kinberg, were bad. They were not necessarily the worse ever, but really, it was amateurish. The screenplay was clunky and cringe-worthy, with so many bad lines that any chuckling was more from the eye-rolling hilarity of it all than genuine comic relief.

Then we have Kinberg’s directorial debut. Granted, it was a decent job for a first timer, but he lacked vision and an eye for details. Scenes and narrative moved along with no sense of purpose other than to reach the end; action sequences were messy and hard to follow. Not one scene in the 114 minutes really stood out other than the prologue (sadly, the rest of the film failed to maintain that level of showmanship). 

But at least Kinberg had the decency to keep the film under 2 hours. Then again, it cannot be too difficult when the film itself lacked a clear narrative arc, the supposed climax failed to even ignite and lift-off and all your characters are squarely one-dimensional and uninteresting. 

The one singular problem with this Dark Phoenix was that it had no tie-in with the rest of the franchise; not thematically nor narratively. Its sole reason to exist appeared to be an attempt to reboot the Dark Phoenix saga, rather than maintaining the larger X-Men franchise.
 
Nonetheless, the one good thing to arise (hah!) was how fascinating it was to see and admire how great actors can elevate a mess just through their sheer talent, presence and being. And by that I am referring pointedly to Michael Fassbender and Jessica Chastain, and to a lesser extent in this case James McAvoy (too similar to his Split persona) and Nicholas Hoult (he was brilliant in The Favourite). 

Fassbender and Chastain should have had more scenes together. Their presence was a masterclass in body language and tonal adjustments (not much you can do otherwise with bad writing and an inexperienced director). 

Then, in comparison, you have everybody else, including leading lady Sophie Turner, who existed purely in service of the narrative and nothing else. They were just chess pieces being moved around to advance the story. The difference was stark and at times it felt like two different movies were going on at the same time. 

On one hand, we have this cache of Oscar-caliber actors doing their utmost to lift the script from the doldrums of mediocrity, and on the other hand, were a bunch of whippersnappers still trying to make it in Hollywood. Sorry Tye Sheridan, at least you were better in Ready Player One, whereas Turner was not even close to late-seasons Sansa Stark here, much less original-Phoenix Famke Janssen.

Oh and let us not forget about Jennifer Lawrence. She could not possibly have appeared less interested to still be in this franchise, and it was blatantly clear to the extent that Mystique's arc, so crucial to the story, ended up being such a non-event. Makes one miss the brilliance and potential of X-Men: First Class where it was a Lawrence, Fassbender and McAvoy trifecta.

When will Hollywood ever get Dark Phoenix right? Will they even try again? Obviously it has to start with casting, but even Janssen then could not save a bad (Kinberg) script. 

If Marvel does go for Round Three, hopefully they keep Hans Zimmer on for the music. At least the score was a constant comfort throughout.