‘Here’ Review: Robert Zemeckis Turns Back the Clock on Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, and It Ain’t Pretty

As someone who has spent countless hours pondering the mysteries of life, time, and the universe while sitting on park benches and hotel room floors, I found “Here” to be a captivating exploration of the interconnectedness of human experience and the secrets that places hold. The film’s unique concept was intriguing, and it managed to scratch the surface of some deep thoughts that resonated with me.

In Hollywood, most movies tell stories. But not “Here.”

In the graphic novel “Here,” originally created by Richard McGuire, the setting remains consistent across all pages – a century-old American house living room. However, the view through each window offers glimpses into events from various years, or even different eras, if not entirely distinct epochs. The story primarily revolves around an idea rather than specific occurrences.

Have you ever found yourself pondering the past of a specific location – perhaps a hotel room, a park bench, or an isolated spot in a forest – and wondering what events transpired there previously? Could this place be where someone shared a passionate kiss, had a heated argument, or fell deeply in love? And isn’t it fascinating that shared experiences can connect people, and locations can carry both memories and mysteries?

In essence, “Here” delves into profound ideas hidden within its complex narrative, but the movie adaptation seems to stray off course by focusing on superficial themes, particularly the uneventful lives of four separate families living in the same location at various instances. The filmmaker, Robert Zemeckis, who previously collaborated with “Forrest Gump” screenwriter Eric Roth and stars Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, appears to awkwardly emulate the single-camera technique, transforming it into an intricate visual effects endeavor instead of a captivating storytelling experience.

For Zemeckis, it’s not about cramming numerous existential truths into or extracting them from a typical New England living room setting, but rather about pushing the boundaries by making his actors appear at different ages across over half a century on screen. In theory, this can be achieved today, although the end product often looks unnatural, further complicating an already complex narrative.

In a more simplified and conversational manner, “From ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ to ‘The Polar Express,’ Zemeckis has consistently shown his knack for innovation, but occasionally falls into the trap of overly sentimental storytelling. ‘Here’ follows this pattern, as instead of creating well-rounded characters, Zemeckis focuses on perfecting digital makeup, similar to Martin Scorsese’s work on ‘The Irishman,’ which ironically strips the project of its essence – the portrayal of life itself.

The narrative commences with quick glimpses of the familiar dwelling, shown through a series of organized squares, before transporting us over 65 million years ago to a significant instant when dinosaurs chose this clearing for their nesting site. Afterward, we encounter an asteroid (or possibly a volcanic explosion), swiftly followed by a rapid-paced depiction of the Ice Age, where it expands and contracts within mere seconds.

This moment evokes shades of “The Tree of Life,” as it stirs thoughts about lives that appear significant to those living them, yet may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of creation, encompassing dinosaurs and vast expanses of time. Similarly, McGuire dared something equally groundbreaking in his book: he broke away from traditional storytelling by overlapping different timeframes within a single scene, enabling strangers to mirror each other’s thoughts and actions across a common space, thereby pushing the boundaries of the comic form.

For many viewers of “Here”, McGuire’s graphic novel may be unfamiliar, and even those who have read it will notice a distinct approach by Zemeckis and Roth. Instead of focusing on uncovering surprising connections, they concentrate more on creating smooth transitions, aiming to harmonize the narratives across multiple generations. Their objective is straightforward – helping us comprehend the complex, non-linear sequence of scenes logically. However, their use of an overlapping frames technique often blurs the boundaries among the various families depicted in the story.

John and Pauline Harter (portrayed by Gwilym Lee and Michelle Dockery) are the initial residents of the house, which is depicted being built in 1907. Pauline often worries excessively about her pilot husband due to fears that his daring flights might lead to a crash. However, without revealing the outcome of this early-20th-century family’s story, it’s important to note that fretting is fruitless in “Here.” In fact, it can backfire in unexpected and ironic manners, hinting that fixating on future events might be the most effective way to overlook the present.

As a movie enthusiast, I found myself deeply immersed in the heartwarming saga, “The Shape of Water We Call Home.” The film centers around the character of Richard, played by Tom Hanks, who, much like me when I decided to pursue my passion for cinema, initially pursued a career in art. However, he puts his dreams aside to provide for his family, a decision that resonated deeply with me.

Initially, when Hanks’ character debuts, digitally altered to resemble his “Bosom Buddies” era, it offers a focal point amidst what might seem like an unending slideshow of a PowerPoint presentation. Later, when he presents his girlfriend Margaret (portrayed by Wright), their Hollywood allure hints that we should be focusing not on the questionable face replacement technology, which appears more like high-definition Sims than the real-life younger versions of the actors, but rather on these two characters.

Similar to Richard Linklater’s “Boyhood,” the movie “Here” offers a long-term perspective on significant moments within an American family, encouraging us to reflect on the commonality of these experiences. However, unlike “Here,” the specificity in such scenes might be lacking, making it more challenging for them to transcend typical clichés. Consequently, it falls upon composer Alan Silvestri (who also worked on “Forrest Gump”) to evoke the necessary emotions. It’s worth noting that many life events take place in living rooms; however, Roth deliberately moves events that should occur elsewhere to stage a birth, a death, a wedding, and three intimate scenes within the same space where holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving are celebrated.

Zemeckis infuses everything with a slightly kitschy, Currier and Ives-esque atmosphere (noticeably in several colonial-era scenes featuring Ben Franklin), as if he’s aiming to outdo vintage Saturday Evening Post covers by capturing an archetypal American family. However, the position he’s decided on for his stationary camera – slightly off-center with the couch facing the screen – seems to reference a more common visual cue: that of classic sitcoms.

Throughout the movie, the consistent blocking maintains the desired perspective, since director Zemeckis avoids cuts or close-ups, he requires his actors to move towards the camera whenever he wants us to focus on their faces. At the 94th minute, the director lastly decides to loosen the camera’s hold, rotating it to capture a crucial interaction between two characters. If Zemeckis had designed “Here” as a museum exhibit instead of a film, the fixed viewpoint might have been suitable. However, we come to this movie seeking emotion, and for that to resonate, the camera should also share the feeling.

2024-10-26 16:17

‘Here’ Review: Robert Zemeckis Turns Back the Clock on Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, and It Ain’t Pretty

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