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Review by Dustin Putman
1½ stars out of 4
A motion picture that starts off with a quirkily original premise
before completely derailing in shallow subplots that go nowhere and
a loathsome conclusion that wants, but fails, to be uplifting, "The
Terminal" might possibly be director Steven Spielberg's (2002's "Catch
Me If You Can") weakest film to date. In its plot of a man who finds
himself stranded for an inordinately long time with dwindling hope
of being able to escape, and in many of its smaller details, "The
Terminal" unintentionally recalls 2000's powerful "Cast Away," also
starring Tom Hanks. In place of an island, however, is an airport
terminal, and in place of that aforementioned masterpiece's humanism
and profundity is little more than cutesy storytelling and off-putting,
one-dimensional characters.
At nearly the exact moment Viktor Navorski (Tom Hanks) first arrives
in New York City, a war breaks out in his Eastern European homeland,
veritably shattering his own country's existence. Suddenly without
a home to call his home or an acceptable visa, Viktor—who speaks little
English—is instructed by head of homeland security Fran k Dixon (Stanley
Tucci) to remain within the walls of the airport terminal until either
the federal government grants the proper clearance or his country
reclaims its name. Viktor, a resilient, good-natured man, obliges,
at first teaching himself English and finding ways to make money to
eat. He befriends some of the lowly staff, including jokey janitor
Gupta (Kumar Pallana), straight-talking security officer Mulroy (Chi
McBride), and lovestruck kitchen worker Cruz (Diego Luna) who has
his eyes on sweet INS agent Torres (Zoe Saldana). As weeks stuck in
the airport turn to months, Viktor gets to know beautiful flight attendant
Amelia Warren (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a workaholic unhappily having
an affair with a married man. Gradually, they form a romantic connection.
Meanwhile, Viktor becomes determined to reach the outside world of
Manhattan to fulfill a secret goal that, in time, will be revealed.
The lackluster screenplay by Sacha Gervasi and Jeff Nathanson (2001's
"Rush Hour 2") is only one of many glaring deficiencies that plague
"The Terminal," but it is the most calamitous. The ragtag stream of
interwoven storylines are either seriously undernourished, unnecessarily
long-winded, utterly pointless, or all of the above. For example,
the way in which the potential romance between Cruz and Torres is
initially set up, with Viktor put in the role of go-between matchmaker
in exchange for food, is pleasing enough, but its payoff is alarmingly
irrational and not to be believed for a second. As for the sort-of
love story between Viktor and Amelia, it holds all of the emotional
weight of a paper bag and its despicable, cheap outcome is the equivalent
of driving freely down a road and smashing into a brick wall. If there
was supposed to be any point to the Viktor-Amelia scenes, and any
internal growth for either party based on their relationship, it must
have been lost in the trans lation from page to screen.
Save for the memorable Viktor Navorski, who is in almost every scene
and played deliciously and with astounding adeptness and soul by Tom
Hanks, all of the characters fall into one of two camps: they are
written and portrayed as either dim-witted clowns, too cute by a half
as they strain for throwaway laughs, or as unlikable, one-note caricatures
who make baselessly bad decisions. So lacking in depth and consistency
are these people that they give America, for which they are intended
to stand for, a very bad name, indeed. If I were Viktor Navorski,
had never stepped foot on United States soil, and was faced with these
fools, I would see it as a blessing if I never got to see the outside
world of New York City. This very fact is ruinous to the climax, turning
what should have been lovely and poignant and emotionally resounding
into a series of flat, uninteresting, meaningless scenes.
As the confused Amelia Warren, who is torn between a man sh e knows
she probably shouldn't be with and a man she knows she probably can't
ever be with, Catherine Zeta-Jones (2003's "Intolerable Cruelty")
is stunningly bad in an admittedly thankless role. She is stiff, she
has trouble emoting, and she never makes it plausible why she finds
Viktor so attractive. The audience knows the answer to this question,
yes, but Zeta-Jones is unconvincing in making the viewer believe it.
The unsatisfactory way in which her character is dealt with in the
third act would seem like a betrayal if she had been likable or charming
to begin with, but she never was.
"The Terminal" is a big-screen bust, and in a big way. After all,
it is not often that director Steven Spielberg is responsible for
such a mess of a film. What is certain, at least, is that comedy is
not his forte. For much of the running time, it almost seemed as if
the falsely sentimental Garry Marshall (2004's "Raising Helen") was
at the helm, rather than Spielberg. The dramatic moments want to be
touching, but are only mawkish, while the comedic bits are more banal
than clever, the only funny moments coming solely from Hanks' sterling
comic talents. Even the cinematography by Spielberg regular Janusz
Kaminski (2002's "Minority Report") is genuinely dreary to look out,
with the color scheme prevelant in boring pale blues and grays and
the film itself jarringly overexposed. At some points, the glares
from the light sources even threaten to drown out the characters.
It is a real shame that such a fine performance from Tom Hanks is
at the service of an otherwise unrewarding cinematic experience. At
least the title is fitting. With every minute that ticks by, "The
Terminal"—a hate letter to America for no valid reason—moves all the
closer to its own ultimate fatality. By the end, the film is as good as pronounced dead.
Copyright © 2004 Dustin Putman
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