“I’m just not that type of Croft,” she insists, just minutes before discovering her father’s hidden chamber full of artifacts, which prompts her to carry on his adventurous legacy.
Lara, perhaps sensing events to come in the second act, refuses to sign the death certificate or carry on her father’s adventurous legacy. He went missing seven years prior, leaving behind his young daughter and the keys to Croft Manor, a gaudy mansion that dwarfs most Third World countries. The film’s emotional core is fueled by Lara’s doting caretaker, Ana (Kristin Scott Thomas), who pushes Lara to have her father (Dominic West) declared legally dead. Without perspective there can be no suspense, and without suspense there can be no shits given.
#Tomb raider film movie
Even a terrible movie like 2004’s National Treasure understands the importance of occasionally orienting the audience as to what’s happening. We see maps on walls and diagrams on paper but have no idea what they represent. When she clambers atop a massive door festoon with adjustable puzzle pieces, we have no idea what her rationale is for solving the puzzle. Worse still, we don’t understand Lara’s thought processes most of the time. It’s the type of lazy sudden comfort that a serious actioner can’t afford. Henchmen can’t shoot straight, boulders can’t roll straight, and convenient ledges present themselves for grappling. This ineptitude continues throughout Tomb Raider, with Lara escaping each predicament through sheer luck. She immediately proves herself inept at both, getting sacked from her courier gig after a breakneck bicycle race through city streets, and nearly getting choked out in her listless kickboxing match. A directionless Lara splits her time as a bicycle courier and recreational kickboxer. Picture Raiders of the Lost Ark wrung dry of all fun, suspense, and practical special effects and you have something approximating the action in Tomb Raider.ĭaniel Wu and Alicia Vikander Photo by Ilzek Kitshoff – © 2017 Warner Bros. Every action set piece is derivative of better action films. Uthaug (who directed the 2015 Norwegian disaster flick, The Wave) has crafted a dreary slog that fails to capture any unconquered territory, either emotionally or visually. It’s hard to believe anyone could be inspired by this version of Croft, who is beaten and battered mercilessly in almost every possible fashion. Jolie’s Croft was the stuff of fantasy little girls imagining they might one day kick ass, and little boys imagining… well… you can imagine. Vikander’s Lara Croft is a sinewy and serious beast, lacking the same campy brutality and sexuality of Angelina Jolie’s original interpretation of the globetrotting adventurer. Look no further than the film’s poster art to see what awaits an angelic Alicia Vikander completely covered in bruises and grime. Two degrees of separation from its video game roots, this Tomb Raider lacks the charm and fun you might expect from such a fluffy enterprise. It represents a dubious milestone in cinematic history the first adaptation of a film that was, itself, adapted from a video game. A franchise, perhaps, that was better left entombed. On that uplifting note, let us more carefully consider director Roar Uthaug’s revival of the Tomb Raider franchise. Just another typical night at the multiplex in America. The night air greets us and we instantly forget the millions of dollars’ worth of time, effort, and expertise that we just spent two hours and $50 watching. “That was pretty good,” we rationalize to our spouse/friend/acquaintance as we unpeel from the imitation leather chair and fumble for our slumbering cellphone. Things culminate in a massive explosion, signifying that it’s time to stop eating snacks and go home. We watch outlandish, physics-defying set pieces unfold but nothing about the events or outcome.
The new Tomb Raider is bad in the same way that all modern action-adventure films not named Mad Max: Fury Road are bad.
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