Cucumberman
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The
Bastard Offspring of John Hughes and Joel Schumacher. by
Jon Dunmore © 3 Oct 2005. Recall,
if you are secure enough in your manhood, those John Hughes films of the mid-80s:
perturbed teens discovering themselves blah blah. Further recall, if you dare,
the Batman franchise under the frivolous wrist of Joel Schumacher: all
coruscating color and comic-book éclat. If you've an appetite
for distraction (and a high tolerance for pap), take these two disparate milieux,
pop into blender, push-button "pulverize" and voila! - two bland
ingredients syruping an even blander cocktail: Sky High - teens discovering
themselves blah blah amidst coruscating color and comic-book éclat.
To accuse this
movie of cliché is to accuse Richard Simmons of homosexuality; that is,
though it would like to think of itself as otherwise - it's way too obvious
The
movie almost rights itself in the weak-beer-drenched waters of teen-movie plagiarism
with the droll premise that these discomfited teens are the offspring of Superheroes.
Even so, that concept can be appreciated only until one realizes how securely
Superhero Movies have entrenched themselves as an economic cog on Wall Street
(i.e. if the next Spiderman or X-Men bombs, a lot of movie executive's
kids are going to be raised on shoe-flavored soup). Therefore, it comes as no
surprise that every facet of the genre will be mined for profits, initially with
seemingly "original" angles, but ultimately simply fulfilling cookie-cutter
demand. There is already the high ground (Spiderman, X-Men), the low ground
(Fantastic Four, Daredevil), the so-so (Hulk, Blade Trinity); there
is the watershed (Batman Begins), the animation (The Incredibles),
the real-world grit (Punisher) and the simply woeful (Elektra -
which also caters to the SHE-ro department), each niche being filled as quickly
as market analysts can identify the vacuum. But don't be surprised when
the Ideas Men, choking on the synthetic meat of their unoriginality, realize they've
painted themselves into demographic corners, and start peddling Superhero movies
which mimic "reality shows," or feature Super-Animals (Krypto, anyone?),
or Superhero cameos of Danny Bonaduce, Mini-Me or Paris Hilton. (Even the Dark
Knight has never known such dark days
) For the time being, we are
primed to contend with the Superhero "Teen Comedy." And it is enjoyable
enough - if you've been vacationing as resolutely as George W. Bush, removed from
all public media and cultural dynamics. But if you've seen one teen movie which
elevates the hormonally-drenched pseudo-problems of libidinous, over-privileged,
studiously-hip teens to the import of a United Nations Symposium on Global Oil
Embargos, you've seen 'em all. This one just has people wearing capes in it. Despite
its abject impossibility, we can readily accept the concept of Sky High University
(an exclusive campus for Superhero offspring, floating miles above the earth),
thanks to our cultural inundation over these past few years with a surfeit of
Superhero movie-fare. Consequently, none of the "powers" exhibited by
the kids attending Sky High requires exposition, as we've grown so accustomed
to the idiom: a bully blowing icy breath and freezing another kid where he stands
is accepted without question; as is a girl who can duplicate herself, or a boy
who can throw fireballs. Yawn. Attending Sky High U is Will Stronghold
(Michael Angarano), son of the world's two highest-profile Superheroes (The Commander
and Jetstream - Kurt Russell and Kelly Preston, both wearing tights deployed for
maximum prurient effect in the opposite gender), facing his coming-of-age dilemma:
to hang with the Heroes and bang the slutty chick or mope with the Nerds and get
roped into a "relationship" with the homely chick. Oh, the mind-scarring
problems of over-privileged American teens! Two Kids In The Hall
alumni (Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley) perform valiantly to elevate the comedy
(as has-been Heroes reduced to teaching positions at the university), but the
movie's unfortunate focus on the hipster contingent relegates these and other
veteran actors to the outskirts of the prosaic plot. Kurt Russell, an underrated
comedic talent, seemed set to spark proceedings into a meaty joviality, but ultimately,
was given so little to do (besides embodying the "Ideal" of the Superhero
and waxing effusive over his son's coming-of-age) that we were reduced to marveling
at the magnificent acting prowess of Kelly Preston's breasts. Thus,
whilst marveling at those Mounds Of Justice, did I come - er, of age.
END
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