Warning: The following contains some minor spoilers for Pacific Rim, Star Trek Into Darkness, and Iron Man 3 (if you count a very oblique reference a spoiler).
Over the past couple weeks I’ve had what basically amounts to the same conversation with several different people who didn’t seem to have enjoyed Pacific Rim as much as I did, to put it lightly. Most of them actually seemed baffled that I could love it so much. “But the story’s so predictable!” they said. “And the characters are a bunch of clichés!” And, to a certain extent, they’re right. Pacific Rim’s story is rather straightforward and traditional, and most of its characters are broad archetypes. But my response to that is, why is that such a bad thing?
I’m not trying to be glib here. I mean it. Why is having a story whose shape you can recognize considered a weakness? Why is relying on archetypes suddenly a problem? Of course, Pacific Rim’s detractors will argue that its story is too predictable, its characters too archetypal. I’d contend that you can only reach that conclusion if you refuse to engage with the movie at all, if you only look at it at a surface level. But there’s something else. The more I think about it, the more I realize the problem is not with Pacific Rim. The problem is with modern blockbusters, and with the expectations they have created.
Do you know what other movie has a story that fits a very traditional mold and characters that are barely more than archetypes? Star Wars. You’ve got the farmhand destined to be a hero, the mysterious mentor, the princess in distress, the wisecracking mercenary who turns out to be a valuable ally, the seemingly all-powerful evil adversary, etc. (Yes, things get slightly more complex once you hit The Empire Strikes Back.) Star Wars is high fantasy in space, and it hits every tope in the book. What makes Star Wars so good, though, is the way it manages to create an entire world, to give us a glimpse into this place and make us believe it really could exist… which is exactly what Pacific Rim does, too! And it does it using the same tricks, giving people and places names that stand out, making things look striking and unique. Luke Skywalker and Stacker Pentecost. Tattooine and the Shatterdome. The Mos Eisley Cantina aliens and the kaiju. Pacific Rim is like Star Wars in many, many ways (down to the exposition-heavy dialogue and at times awkward acting).But we don’t want our blockbusters to be like Star Wars anymore.
Nope, nowadays, we want our blockbusters to be like The Dark Knight. We want our heroes to be dark and tortured, our plots to be as convoluted as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I love The Dark Knight; I just hate what it’s done to Hollywood.
Don’t believe me? Just take a look at this year’s crop of blockbusters. Everywhere you look, it’s brooding heroes and excessively complicated stories. I say complicated, not complex, because most of those stories have little in the way of complexity. Complex is hard to pull off, after all, but complicated is the next best thing, and with any luck, people won’t be able to tell the difference, especially if you re-use the same tired thematic cues everyone else is using in order to make it seem as though you’ve got something to say. We’ve been made to think that a complicated story is a smart story, and that a straightforward one is dumb. So blockbusters are packed with reveals, reversals, betrayals, and other plot twists, most of them to the point that they stop making any sense.
Take Star Trek Into Darkness, for instance. Into Darkness features not one but two villains, about half a dozen dramatic reveals, and more War on Terror imagery than The Dark Knight itself. Into Darkness is also perhaps the most stupid film I’ve seen all year. And I’ve seen Trance. The problem (or, rather, one of the many problems) with Into Darkness is that, in order to seem complex, it refuses to reveal any of its characters’ motivations for the longest time, which in turn means that the villains’ respective plans make no sense at all. (Seriously, Khan’s plan has got to be one of the dumbest I’ve ever heard.) But, hey, Khan’s a terrorist, and there’s some vague mention of drone-like weapons, too, so this must be a deep movie, right? Nope, sorry, it’s just a super dumb film trying to trick you into believing it’s not. And Into Darkness isn’t the only movie to suffer from this problem. So does Iron Man 3, an otherwise much, much better film: the Mandarin reveal works beautifully, in large part because Ben Kingsley sells it so well, but the main villain’s plan is at best vague, at worst incoherent. Even blockbusters in which the entire world isn’t at stakes (a rarity these days) aren’t immune, as The Wolverine proves. As long as it tries to be The Grey with Hugh Jackman instead of Liam Neeson, it works alright, but when it finally starts delving into the machinations that have been going on in the background, it stops making sense altogether.
Pacific Rim doesn’t suffer from this problem. Pacific Rim makes sense throughout. Sure, the science is a bit wonky, but in terms of story logic, of going from point A to point B without having to make a stop at point “everyone becomes really stupid all of a sudden,” Pacific Rim is super solid. Is the story simple? Yes, absolutely. Is it dumb? I’d argue it isn’t. Star Trek Into Darkness is dumb. Prometheus is dumb. Hell, Man of Steel is pretty fucking dumb. (Man, the whole Pa Kent thing is so irredeemably stupid.) But Pacific Rim’s story, as familiar and straightforward as it may seem, isn’t dumb. And the main reason for that is that we understand why the movie’s characters do what they do, and that those motivations actually make sense.
Which brings us to, yeah, characters. As I’ve already said, there’s no denying that Pacific Rim’s characters are, for the most part, broad archetypes. But at least they’re actual characters, with their own motivations and personalities, traits that come out in their interactions with one another. Again, that’s more than can be said about most blockbusters these days. Take Star Trek Into Darkness, again. Into Darkness has, what, perhaps two actual characters, Kirk and Spock, and I’m being generous. Everyone else can be defined in at most a sentence (Khan is evil (because he’s evil), Simon Pegg is the character Simon Pegg plays in every non-Edgar Wright movie, and Karl Urban frowns a lot) and, more importantly, they barely interact with anyone that’s not Kirk or Spock. They’re not characters so much as props standing around, which wouldn’t be that bad if Kirk and Spock had fully-fledged, vibrant personalities, but, yeah, not really. (I’d argue Spock’s only interesting because he truly feels alien, which is due more to Zachary Quinto’s performance than to the limp script he’s saddled with.) The Wolverine is even worse, in that no one but Logan seems to have any personality whatsoever. At least Logan gets some kind of character development, which is more than can be said of anyone in Into Darkness. (If it seems like I hate that movie, well, it’s because I do.)
But the characters in Pacific Rim do get to interact with one another, they get to show us why they’re the way they are, even when the way they are feels very familiar. Raleigh, who would have spent half the movie moping around after his brother’s death in any other blockbuster (man that would have sucked) serves as a catalyst; much like Jack Burton in John Carpenter’s Big Trouble in Little China, he may be the movie’s protagonist, but he’s not the hero (that would be, of course, Mako). Thanks to him, we gain access to the Mako/Pentecost relationship (still what I consider by far the best thing about the movie, and a much more interesting relationship than you’ll find in pretty much any modern blockbuster), and to the one between Hercules Hansen and his son Chuck. And while the Raleigh/Chuck sorta-rivalry may feel rehashed, here it’s not so much about the protagonist earning the respect and loyalty of an ally, but about understanding why a character is acting like a dick (because, hey, Chuck’s actually got very good reasons not to be thrilled about Raleigh and Mako piloting a Jaeger) and having him turn into, well, somewhat less of a dick. (The exchange between Pentecost, Chuck, and Herc as the first two set out to kick some kaiju ass at the end packs a surprising punch, if you accept to actually engage with those characters. Herc’s “That’s my son you’ve got there!” gets me every time.) If Raleigh’s so bland, and there’s no denying he is, it’s because Pacific Rim belongs to its secondary characters, to Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori (again, the movie’s real hero for me), to Herc and Chuck Hansen, to Newton Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb. And, of course, to Hannibal Chau. All archetypes, sure, but all much more real and interesting in their interactions with one another than most other blockbusters’ characters.
Because, as del Toro clearly understand, and as so many Hollywood execs seem not to, simple isn’t the same as dumb, and complicated sure as hell isn’t the same as smart.