War of the Worlds

Occasionally I find it difficult to know where to begin with my reviews. In the case of War of the Worlds, I have so many starting points I don’t know which one to use. Should I begin by telling you about my illicit love affair with the Jeff Wayne musical version of War of the Worlds, which accomplishes the incredible feat of combining ’80s music with global catastrophe to produce excellent results? Or do I tell you about the recurring nightmares the 1950s version of the film gave me, which my dear old aunt tried to help me dispel by telling me I would be at least 24 by the time the world ended (true story, by the way)? Or do I simply mention that at least 30 minutes after coming out of the cinema the muscles in my shoulders and chest still haven’t un-knotted from the marathon of tension and fear I just put myself through? Yeah, I think that might do it.

Because, if you wanted to find a way to really give me a heart attack, protracted watchings of War of the Worlds might be the final thing that does me in. My scarred and shattered psyche has many faults, and my weird phobia about alien destruction of humanity wasn’t helped by watching essentially a vividly accurate re-creation of the end of the world in Dolby Surround Sound.

Visually, and unsurprisingly, War of the Worlds is absolutely stunning. To a generation of filmgoers who have grown accustomed to big budget special effects extravaganzas, this manages to stand out from the crowd. Maybe it’s just because everyone seems to be spending their special effects budgets on mass historical battles nowadays, but there is something refreshing about seeing a whole bunch of stuff really, really impressively blown up.

Now, for those of you who have somehow managed to miss the book, film, and various other adaptations, the plot of War of the Worlds is simple. Innocent bystander stands witness to the end of the world as brought about by militant men from Mars (gotta love that alliteration). In this case, divorcee dock-worker Ray (Tom Cruise) who finds that his weekend with his estranged kids, delinquent 16-year-old Robby and intensely annoying and psychologically damaged 10-year-old Rachael, is somewhat ruined by the systematic extermination of the human race by alien invaders. Not exactly word-for-word from the HG Wells original, but I’m willing to forgive a multitude of sins in the case of this film. While I would loved to have seen a proper historical adaptation of the book, watching alien tripod fighting machines blowing up New Jersey and the like does give it a certain immediacy.

So when aliens start messing up his weekend plans, Ray makes a beeline for any kind of safety he can find, which is scant. With terrifying, unstoppable alien death machines everywhere intent on turning your species to fertiliser, it’s hard to catch a break. He’s not aided by the fact that his kids are as dysfunctional as any five Jerry Springer guests, and the rest of the people he meets along the way are also more than a few death rays short of a global extermination plan (how’s that for a beautifully extended metaphor? Don’t like it? Everyone’s a critic…).

Exactly as it should be, War of the Worlds is almost the antithesis of films like Independence Day. Instead of being caught in the centre of humanities fight to drive back the aliens, we are instead drawn along with someone as powerless as we the audience are. It’s hard to be emotionally invested in the safety of a jet fighter flying US president — not many of us happen to be one of those. It’s pretty easy to relate to the normal man (or woman) on the street though, doing exactly what we would do in the same circumstances — hiding, running, and trying not to die.

Not everything with this film is perfect, however. Spielberg’s tendency to over-schmaltzify everything is still prevelent, including a scene which if you are anything like me you will be praying for Tom Cruise not to sing. There’s also a scene which I felt was out of place (but I don’t want to spoil here), but which I thought pretty much subverted a lot of the films integrity for the sake of adding an ‘action’ scene.

However, there are lots of nice nods to both the book and the 1950s original film — the addition of the Red Weed, the extended sequence in the cellar, the stuff with the ferry and the addition of several sequences that seem deliberately identical to the same scenes in the ’50s version show that the film knows its roots, even though it’s perfectly willing to leave them behind.

What else is there to say? Steven Spielberg knows how to make a blockbuster, and War of the Worlds is no exception. In a summer which has continued to produce quality films, War of the Worlds simply adds to that pedigree, as well as having the distinction of being the first film to cause my girlfriend to unconsciously injure me. Here’s a tip guys – if your other half has sharp nails and a strong grip, you might want to not hold hands.