El Gringo lost spirit with THE SPIRIT

Merrick here...
Yesterday, we received a review of THE SPIRIT from a reader who called it the worst film he'd ever seen (HERE). Now comes this review from El Gringo, who just caught THE SPIRIT at a screening in Paris. While he didn't call it "the worst film he's ever seen", El Gringo doesn't seem to have much of love for Frank Miller's new movie. Not much at all...
Here's El Gringo...

i happened to attend a paris premiere screening of frank miller's latest flick ("latest" if you consider he didn't have a lot to do with sin city, apart from being the one who inspired it all - "first" if you tend to think that the spirit is his first work as a director where he's completely free, in charge, and ultimately responsible for how it turns out). that distinction might turn out to be important, or irrelevant, depending on how you feel about the spirit. either you can see it as a second feature, and marvel at how a director dares to go beyond the already stretched boundaries that he set with his first film - or you can see it as a first (and far from being flawless) feature, and wonder what went (very) wrong in the director's obviously quite twisted mind. i guess it's up to how you liked sin city. and i kinda liked it. even so... i'll get back to how i feel about the spirit, but let's start with a brief overview of what's on the screen. right after a quite ugly credit/titles, it starts with a giant battle in a muddy swamp between the spirit and his arch nemesis, the octopus. they both kick the hell out of each other, and you start thinking okay, that's how everything's gonna unfold : the spirit takes place in a world where basically people can smash a toilet seat on the head of one another and not feel particularly physically sore about it (how their ego gets hurt is another matter, though). and all of a sudden, the octopus dismisses that belief, by saying something like 'don't you find that strange, how strong and resilient you are? hasn't it ever occurred to you that it might have something to do with your coming back from the dead?' (no spoiler here: you get to know that the spirit is sort of an undead quite early in the film)? anyway, that's what the octopus says, and that's when the audience starts thinking 'okay, so it's NOT a world where this shit is supposed to be normal' (ie. people smashing each other with tons of junk, including a toilet seat). quite oddly, that action scene is very poorly edited, and emasculated by a very campy sense of humor, most of which is carried out by actor louis lombardi, who does his very best to make the most of the part of a dumbass with an IQ of 20, infinitely cloned (and killed) by the octopus. right after this unreasonably long fight comes a very boring scene where you understand that the spirit and commissioner dolan have some sort of an agreement (basically: 'you do your vigilante stuff and i book the bad guys' - if that reminds you of any relationship between another commissioner and a guy who goes around dressed up as a bat, well, that may be on purpose). i say i found that scene boring because it is supposed to make us understand the spirit's past - his teenage love for a skinny girl named sand saref who left town because of the death of her father, and who turned into stunningly beautiful eva mendes. then you get a quick overview of the spirit's female relationships: ellen, the commissioner's daughter, who mends him when he's hurt (she's a doctor); morgenstern, the overzealous rookie cop dressed up like she's going to an s&m party ; lorelei, the angel of death, constantly whining about how she can't hold the spirit in her cold embrace etc; and, of course, sand serif, the spirit's first love. there are a few film noir scenes where the spirit follows up the crumbs to the octopus, but frankly my dears, you won't give a damn about them: they're poorly directed, and they usually try and deliver information you understood fifteen minutes ago. these scenes are intertwined with moments int the octopus' lair, where you see sam jackson killing his lombardi clones, and plotting with scarlett johanson to kill 2 birds with one stone - i.e. gut the spirit and retrieve an ancient vase containing some shit that's supposed to make him immortal (don't ask me what it was, at this point i already didn't care what was in the vase, i was just wondering when we'd be rewarded with another shot of eva mendes' digitally enhanced ass). in the midst of all this, you understand the spirit started as a cop who got shot dead, and then got brought back to life by the octopus as a human guinea pig for his indestructibility formula (see, he had to test it on someone before injecting himself with the shit). eventually, the octopuss will get his ass kicked so that he can't ever be brought back to life (or can he ?), and the spirit will turn his back on all the women who love him, just to go on with his dumb ass vigilante life. so, what can i say about that? well, i won't say anything about how each frame seems like a comics page brought to life - because it's not. The film is absolutely deprived of anything resembling life. every close-up on those wonderful actresses is ruined by cgi make-up, and every possible interest you might have in the characters is thoroughly stomped by the poorest directing ever. in the aftermath, a few things surface in the ocean of boredom: scarlett johanson, who proves (if need be) that she's a very very very intelligent actress, at ease in every and any kind of film; eva mendes, who is so remarkably beautiful that you could forgive her weak moments as an actress; and of course, sam jackson, fun as ever. make no mistake: i love frank miller's illustrative style in the comics - and i don't mind seeing it in a film (i mean i'm not one of those geeks who go around screaming 'oh god, don't touch my comics, hollywood whores, or i kill you' - i'm a geek, but not that kind of geek). i also don't mind campy and fun in a film - as long as it's... funny. and sam jackson marvelling at a jumping foot on which he surgically mounted a human head the size of a plum - well, that could be funny - except it's not. i'm also not the kind to get upset by nazi uniforms in exploitation movies. and i don't mind being told a story in a way that's radically different from what hollywood is used to doing. but still, it has to be ambitious, and committed to its emotions somehow. the spirit could pass for ambitious (but it isn't), and it lacks a lot of emotional commitment. i found it not so fun to watch, and quite painful to sit through. the lead character, even though bravely supported by actor gabriel macht, is so stupid it's jaw-dropping (wait to see him get confused by evidence that would get a 5-year old to close the case). he's absolutely unfathomable as a character, driven by nothing, attached to no-one but his so-called mother (a.k.a. his city). speaking of which: the film was supposed to be about a city. i mean: it's on the poster, it's in the trailers and in the tagline ("my city screams"). well, never has a city resembled so much an empty sound stage - except maybe a sound stage. eventually, the so-called "screaming city" consists of a green screen cgi-painted black - or white - or red. and sometimes, we get a few wide shots of some real city, but where any living soul or passing car or fucking flying bird has been digitally removed - and not replaced with an extra or a car that would match the art direction. no, they just took everything and everybody out, and left the frame totally empty! go figure... the spirit might be called the ultimate child-like character, if you assume a child is driven by nothing but primitive impulses and the constant need to run from the girls and go back to his mama. eventually, i feel like the spirit might be the unlikely child of a threesome between directors fellini, jess franco, and blake edwards - if you keep just what made these directors famous, and not what made them interesting film makers. i could also say a few things about the miller's obsession for perfect (i.e. playmate of the month-like) female curves (even the extras have great ass!); or about his very twisted fling for teenage girls dressed like 5 bucks whores (young seychelle gabriel pulls it off anyway, as well as johnny simmons). but writing that review had me too tired and too sad for old frank, to say any more. if you use this, call me el gringo.