Preachy Book of Eli a Disappointing Read
Eli (Denzel Washington) thinks he has been walking west for 30 years. It’s been about that long since the war that destroyed the known world, and it wasn’t too long after that he started his dangerous trek.
Mila Kunis and Denzel Washington in Warner Bros' The Book of Eli
Getting closer to his destination, Eli stumbles into a town of murders and thieves controlled by Carnegie (Gary Oldman), a man maybe as old as he is and one desperate to find a book he believes will allow him to become ruler of this still relatively new dystopian world. But this loner isn’t buying what the wannabe despot is selling, setting back out on his journey in a flurry of gunfire and severed limbs with an unwanted companion, Solara (Mila Kunis), by his side.
In many ways Albert and Allen Hughes’ The Book of Eli, their first feature film since 2001’s From Hell, is a more action-oriented cousin to John Hillcoat’s late 2009 effort The Road. Both are set in a world devastated by an unnamed and unexplained war, both feature protagonists on cross-country journeys that have a profound effect on their respective lives. But where the latter is a dark, depressing and deeply melancholic saga of sacrifice in the face of unavoidable annihilation, the former is a tale of a redemption trying desperately to be both a thrilling large scale epic as well as a treatise on faith and forgiveness.
The thing is neither movie is ultimately all that successful, both having major issues that makes enjoying them easy. But whereas the issues regarding The Road had more to do with my familiarity with the stunning Cormac McCarthy novel on which it’s based, my problems with the Hughes brothers’ latest have more to do with their picture’s pacing and tone. For all the talk of its surprise conclusion (a conclusion I personally had figured out early on), writer Gary Whitta’s screenplay is surprisingly threadbare. There is very little in the way of meat on this picture’s bones, and while I appreciated its point of view I didn’t particularly enjoy being beaten over the head by them.
That is exactly what the directors do, however, the film turning into a deeply religious polemic that felt like a highly didactic sermon that refused to end. The Hughes want to have their cake and eat it to, delivering eye-popping action set pieces filled with blood and gore while putting forth Christian philosophies that directly oppose much of the narrative they are surrounded by. Worse, the pair pace things like a funeral march, everything given so much pomp and circumstance by the time the ultimate revelation is revealed I felt so pummeled it was frustratingly difficult to care.
There is still much to applaud. The cast is universally solid, especially an underutilized Jennifer Beals who makes an indelible impression as Solara’s mother and Carnegie’s paramour Claudia. Her character is so beautifully written, so multifaceted and hauntingly tragic, I found that I was drawn to her each time the story turned back her way. Beals, never an actress I’ve ever particularly cared for, doesn’t so much rise to the occasion as pole vault right over it, and only three weeks into a new year I can already say her performance is one I’m going to remember and cherish all the way into December.
As for the film’s look, while the washed out monochromatic photography isn’t original that doesn’t make it any less terrific. From a purely visual esthetic Don Burgess’ (Enchanted) cinematography and Gae Buckley’s (He’s Just Not That Into You) production design are sensational, and combine their work with Atticus Ross’ (New York, I Love You) ethereal score and the effect is utterly hypnotic.
It should be pointed out that Albert and Allen do not make bad movies, but other then their 1993 debut Menace II Society they just don’t seem to be able to make complete ones. Their scripts always seem like they are only halfway there, none as fully formed or as completely fleshed out they should be. Yet they are always well acted, beautifully photographed and filled with indelible moments. They are intriguing and fascinatingly imperfect curio pieces, movies you sit in the theater longing to be better then they sadly are.
That is the case with The Book of Eli. I never wanted to leave me seat, never felt the inclination to be anywhere else other then were I was. All the same I kept hoping and praying the film would do something to make my being there feel more then just passably tolerable. I wanted it to wow me, to show me things that took my breath away while giving me a story worthy of approval. But this never happened, and for all the Hughes’ efforts in the end disappointment was the only thing the pair was able to get out of me.
