I remember thinking to myself during Alexander Witt’s Resident Evil Apocalypse, “Oh God, just let it be over!” Now, being fully aware that a film should be viewed on its own terms, yet after the fact factoring in how–in respect to series work–the production added or detracted to or from what came before, I have come to a conclusion: The Resident Evil franchise is for teenage boys. It’s that simple.
The first fifteen minutes of Paul W.S. Anderson’s charter installment, wherein the theme of corporate corruption is presented, and the premise–if you read too much into it–of Russell Mulcahy’s third chapter, that technology has rendered the earth barren and destitute (i.e. the T-virus responsible for the plague was made by the same science which created the combustible engine which is currently sponsoring global warming), are the best parts of the Resident Evil trilogy. However, neither Anderson or Mulcahy develop their themes to any substantive degree as they proceed to use them as fodder for action and camera-oogling of an anorexic singer. Yet, it nevertheless seems as if we have a cause-and-effect relationship on our hands: So long as audiences are willing to hand over their money, the people responsible for Resident Evil will continue to insult their intelligences. So it goes.
Case in point, as we overlook the fact that of all video game adaptations, Resident Evil is the one which adamantly severs itself from its source material in lieu of the fact that, due to it being one of the most–if not the most–popular survival horror game in history, it would automatically be a hit if merely faithfully translated to the screen. However, devout followers of the game get nothing in exchange for their continued dedication. Moreover, the filmmakers don’t ever both with keeping the tale cohesive throughout as the characters of Jill and Angie from Witt’s previous installment are literally forgotten. Thus, it should be no surprise that the logistics of what is being presented haven’t been fleshed out for we have the threat of zombified animals (no one is twisting anyone’s arm to depart from zombie mythos) but, considering the symbiotic relationship which nature demands, not undead insects, bacteria, etc. Why? Because there’d be no story to tell, yet we nonetheless carry on with the corpse of a plot anyway . . .
So what exactly do we get? Outside of a gross of flaky–think Clint Eastwood’s chapped lips in Sergio Leone’s The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly–sunburned, chrome-domed zombies stuck in the middle of the desert, a bastard hybrid of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Alien: Resurrection, John Carl Buechler’s Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood, and George Miller’s Mad Max. As if cloning hadn’t been done enough already, Mulcahy obviously hasn’t bothered with cinematic history or he’d know not to tread in ESP land (unless you are dealing with comic book superheroes, that is), lest you possibly end up in Richard Donner territory, circa Exorcist II: The Heretic.
Furthermore, for the teenage boy in us all we have lots of action and Milla Jovovich prancing around in a chaps-like garter ensemble (which I’m not sure bothers me as much as audience’s attraction to an actress who resembles a prepubescent boy). It only gets worse when an homage is made to Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds before George Romero’s Day of the Dead is blasphemously updated as a Bub-esque zombie tries to use a cell phone. For shame! And is that a War Room I see, one with a circular light complimenting the round table just like the one in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove? Who does this Mulcahy guy think he is? This is sequel for cryin’ out loud but the director seems bound and determined to get blood out of his turnip of a storyline.
Yes, a mad doctor, Isaacs (Iain Glen), lets his vanity get the best of him, positing the Xeroxed theme of Man being his own worst enemy even though rabid, flesh-eating Necro sapiens are running amuck but, really, when the introduction of a Lovecraftian monster can’t even brighten the room, what’s left to be done but wash one’s hands of the whole tired affair? To be fair, Russell Mulcahy can be commended for making a ho-hum film instead of obliging the rule of diminishing returns when it comes to sequels and going even one less than his predecessor (which would have been a feat onto itself of, I grant you, Ed Woodian proportions), and he can be applauded for successfully pulling off one good scare with the use of a mirror and a zombie but, outside of that, there’s literally nothing to the third chapter in the Resident Evil “saga.” It’s that simple.
This film provided by Cape Video, the premier supplier of hard-to-find and out-of-print horror films. Check out their website at http://www.capevideoonline.com.
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- Interview with Director Stevan Mena (Malevolence) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Screenwriter Jeffery Reddick (Day of the Dead 2007) - January 22, 2015
- Teleconference interview with Mick Garris (Masters of Horror) - January 22, 2015
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- Interview with Writer/Director Nacho Cerda (The Abandoned, Aftermath) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actress Thora Birch (Dark Corners, The Hole, American Beauty) - January 22, 2015
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