[EDITOR’S NOTE: In 2003, long before MovieManifesto.com existed, I spent my summer as a 20-year-old college kid writing as many movie reviews as I could. My goal was to compile them all into a website, possibly hosted by Tripod or Geocities, which would surely impress all of the women in my dorm. That never happened—neither the compiling nor the impressing—but the reviews still exist. So, now that I am a wildly successful critic actually have a website, I’ll be publishing those reviews on the respective date of each movie’s 20th anniversary. Against my better judgment, these pieces remain unedited from their original form. I apologize for the quality of the writing; I am less remorseful about the character of my 20-year-old opinions.]
The Hulk is perhaps the first comic-book adaptation that could ever be labeled pretentious. What we have here is not your run-of-the-mill, formulaic action flick in which exposition takes a back seat to explosion – far from it. Instead, acclaimed director Ang Lee brings us a film that generally forgoes action, alternatively attempting to present a more stylish, sophisticated picture. He endeavors mightily to create complex characters and place them in an emotionally involving story. It’s an admirable effort, and it’s encouraging that Lee refuses to be bound by the usual confines of the genre. But he fails. And when someone with the cinematic stature of Ang Lee fails, he fails hard.
The problem with The Hulk is that it lacks a center. There is no focal point, no pivot upon which we can focus our attentions and concerns. Lee is so fixated on style and uniqueness that he overlooks his characters, none of whom is nearly as well-developed as he pretends. Thus, as the machinations of the storyline unfold, we are not intrigued but isolated, hopelessly disconnected from the film’s events. This, combined with a plodding pace, render the movie a lackluster journey that struggles just to keep our interest.
The Hulk begins (after a tortuously long opening sequence set 30 years in the past) in a genetics lab, where we meet Dr. Bruce Ban-, er, Krensler (Eric Bana), a man troubled by murky nightmares of his childhood. We learn quickly that Bruce is a brilliant scientist who prefers to keep his emotions buried deep inside, thus contributing to his romantic fallout with fellow geneticist Betty Ross (Jennifer Connelly). As in all comic-book films, an incident soon transpires, and Bruce winds up getting zapped with some no-nonsense gamma radiation. That he survives is miraculous; that he appears entirely uninjured even more so.
But all is not well, as a trio of unsavory individuals soon surfaces. The first is the unctuous Talbot (Josh Lucas, who makes his rival mathematician from A Beautiful Mind seem heartwarming by comparison), a military underling hoping to wrench Bruce’s lab into his control. Then there is General Ross (Sam Elliott), Betty’s father (from whom she is quite estranged), the kind of man who thinks strictly in terms of national security. And finally there is the shady new night janitor (Nick Nolte), who keeps some rather unusual pets and claims to be Bruce’s father.
And then, of course, there is Bruce himself, dealing with the minor repercussions of the radiation. For now, should the mild-mannered, emotionally repressed doctor be made sufficiently angry, he has the power to transform into the great green behemoth of the title. The first such event occurs in the lab, and it is extraordinary filmmaking, a fusion of photography and computer-generated imagery that is flawless in execution. The gruesome artistry of this sequence (recalling the horror classic An American Werewolf in London) makes it one of the most memorable of the film.
What follows, however, is anything but memorable. Ang Lee is a brilliant director, but here he chooses stylistic flair over cohesive storytelling. The majority of The Hulk is a mishmash of unintegrated scenes; most are filmed with exquisite skill, but technical precision cannot overcome the gaping holes in plot and character. The movie has a grueling runtime of 138 minutes, but it’s amazing how little seems to happen (those eagerly awaiting a surfeit of battle scenes will be disappointed, as action is severely limited), and what does take place is pitifully uninspiring.
Lee may be a master craftsman, but the panache he employs seems to bog down The Hulk rather than buoy it. The most glaring of these efforts is his seemingly incessant use of split-screen photography – though in this case, perhaps multi-screen is a more appropriate term, as Lee often divides the frame into as many as five distinct viewpoints. As in most cases, this is a technique that can be captivating if used sparingly but becomes increasingly annoying over time. Lee utilizes the method so often that it eventually seems as if he’s simply trying to show off. That the screen occasionally looks like a comic book is absorbing only up to a point, and Lee abuses the effect so that it quickly becomes grating.
But more fundamental in the movie’s downfall is its inability to engage viewers on an emotional plane. This is odd because The Hulk tries so damn hard to adequately develop character, but we just never get there. Bruce may be troubled, but he isn’t very charismatic, and we don’t have much compassion for him; when a traumatic incident of his past is finally revealed, we don’t particularly care (this may be the first comic-book film that lacks a true hero). Likewise, Betty is so withdrawn that little romantic tension lingers between the pair – which is a real problem, considering how seeing Betty seems to be the only way for Bruce to return from Hulk to human. Throw in the absence of a central villain (the climax, in which a supporting player suddenly becomes absurdly power-hungry, is utterly preposterous), and there is no one in whom the audience can invest interest and emotion. As a result, we become little more than detached observers.
The effects deserve commendation, though not wholeheartedly. Independently, the construction of the Hulk’s form is an astonishing feat. Muscles ripple accordingly as his face tightens, and his green eyes blaze with vitality. The transformations themselves are especially gripping, as well as being minutely detailed, such as the manner in which Bruce’s shoes blast away as his feet swell to superhuman size. However, when the computerized Hulk interacts with his environment, things are far from seamless. When he grabs a tank by the turret and hurls it off into the distance, we are forcibly reminded that this is a digitized image. It would be unfair of us to demand that this “look real”, but we can at least request that it not stand out so conspicuously.
The lead acting is surprisingly strong. With his limited experience and relatively unknown name, Eric Bana was a courageous casting choice for such a big-budget film, but he acquits himself with such poise that you’d think he’s been acting for ages. Jennifer Connelly, in her first performance since nabbing the Oscar for A Beautiful Mind, is equally effective despite playing such a thankless role. The supporting cast, however, is another story: Josh Lucas is gleefully over-the-top but progresses well past the point of irritation, Sam Elliott is sullen and bland as though he’s aware he’s rehashing his character from We Were Soldiers, and Nick Nolte is just plain wrong. Nolte simply cannot get a handle on his character (though it’s difficult to blame him), and every scene with him feels forced and out of place.
In terms of comic-book adaptations, The Hulk is certainly an ambitious picture, and it is this quality that makes it superior to the straightforward, blasé Daredevil that hit theatres earlier this year. Yet as a whole, the movie fails to possess an identity. Lee strives so hard to steer clear of formula and convention that he neglects to present us with an engaging storyline. We witness a narrative that is without purpose, lacking both the unfettered joy of Spider-Man and the elaborate scope of the X-Men movies. It is not without its virtues, but overall, The Hulk is an incredible disappointment.
Jeremy Beck is the editor-in-chief of MovieManifesto. He watches more movies and television than he probably should.