Photo Illustration by Thomas Levinson/The Daily Beast/20th Century Studios
In an industry consumed with franchises, sequels, spin-offs and other name-brand spectaculars, it’s admirable that Gareth Edwards has convinced a major studio—20th Century Studios—to produce an original stand-alone science-fiction epic. Good intentions, alas, pave the road to you-know-where, and that’s certainly the case with regards to The Creator. A visually striking but shoddily written and crushingly derivative amalgam of assorted genre forefathers, the director’s follow-up to Rogue One: A Star Wars Story is so sloppy, corny, and unconvincing that it almost inadvertently makes the case for its rival IP-driven affairs.
The Creator (in theaters Sept. 29) provides a handy metaphor for itself via its signature sight of sentient robots with giant tube-shaped holes in their heads. Plotting is most definitely not the strong suit of Edwards and Chris Weitz’s script, which vacillates between borrowing and synthesizing bits and pieces of better movies, and establishing its scenario—and then staging scenes and incidents—with minimal lucidity and even less logic. At every other turn, a narrative development begs a question (or three) that goes unanswered, cast aside so the material can proceed along its urgent, preachy path. By its midway point, little of what’s taking place holds up to basic in-the-moment scrutiny, transforming the entire endeavor into merely a showcase for Edwards’ skill at orchestrating warfare-like action—something that itself proves somewhat limited here, as there isn’t a set piece in sight apt to get one’s blood pumping.
A concise newsreel prologue explains how mankind developed and became reliant upon ubiquitous artificial intelligence-powered robots, who served as society’s cooks, chauffeurs, and police officers. A nuclear attack in the heart of Los Angeles, however, permanently soured the United States’ relationship with their mecha-compatriots, and in 2065, the country is knee-deep in conflict with A.I. The primary battlefield is New Asia, an amorphous eastern region that’s embraced A.I. as the next phase of “evolution,” with one farmer claiming that the robots have “bigger hearts” than Yankee soldiers. It’s unclear how the machines developed consciousness or complex emotions; why they sleep, eat and smoke; and why some of them walk about with human skin masks and others don’t (and, for that matter, why some resemble senior citizens and others, younger adults). What Edwards does make apparent is that the ’bots are basically the same as people in every conceivable way, as well as Earth’s new “other,” yearning for “freedom” and yet oppressed and persecuted by heartless warmongering Americans.