Remake of the Titans clashes with CGI blah

From campfire tales and other storytelling traditions to painted pots, ancient scrolls and colorful frescoes, the story of Perseus, slayer of Gorgons and rescuer of fine ladies, has survived for 2,000 years with relatively few plotholes.

Now here’s Clash of the Titans, a movie that couldn’t make a three-minute journey from the copy machine in the writer’s room to the producer’s office without losing a few pages of script in the wind. That or the movie was actually written this way, which is its own Greek tragedy.

For instance, I’ve yet to figure out why Perseus is thrown in an Argos prison, and then why, later, he’s released. One moment he’s at a party interrupted by Hades (I hate it when that happens) and the next he’s in prison. Two minutes later he’s paroled. No explanation, no reasoning, no thought, and don’t even get me started on the riding scorpions. Yes, I’m splitting hairs here, but did you know the hair on a titan is like three feet thick? It’s like sawing through a teenage redwood.

Now, in all honesty, I did not see Clash of the Titans until yesterday, a full two years after it hit theaters. I had heard it was savaged by critics (especially its muddy and murky 3D) and I also heard it was a woeful action clunker. Certainly my mind might have been made up already before popping in Clash of the Titans at home last night.

But then the film started, and there’s no mistaking biased hatred with unbiased hatred. This is a profoundly stupid movie, one that I will try my hardest to never see again.

It stars the 2010 version of Channing Tatum (Sam Worthington) as Perseus, the bastard half-god child of Zeus. Now this is not lovable grandfatherly Zeus; I kept thinking of Rip Torn, with a white curly beard, voicing the thunderous god in Disney’s Hercules. No, this Zeus is mean and sullen. He stomps around Olympus in full battle dress — glittery armor, shiny chestplate, matching booties — like he’s about to raid Mordor. Also, Zeus and the rest of the gods all have ratty beards; not like flowing nice beards, but gross Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie beards. Anyway, no one prays to Zeus anymore, so his narcissist ego is swollen and bruised, which says a lot about a guy who actually shares an address with Narcissus himself.

To get more prayers — and Facebook friends — Zeus (Liam Neeson) decides to let his brother Hades, god of the underworld, strike fear into the hearts of men. Hades is played by a Ralph Fiennes, who uses his best library voice for the whole movie, as if he hadn’t quite shaken off that whispery Voldemort slither between Harry Potter movies. Hades, of course, has more devious plans and intends on unleashing the Kraken — actual line: “Unleash. The. Kraken!!!” — to not only make people fall to their knees and thank the gods, but to also overthrow Zeus, who has apparently forgotten to renew his health insurance or something.

But where is Perseus, you ask? Well, he started in a boat that was capsized by Hades, which means he’s pissed. When the writers wrote this scene they probably high-fived each other afterward: “See, Hades killed Perseus’ adopted father and that explains why Perseus can be an action hero for the next 90 minutes. We made it in Hollywood!”

The real dialogue, the stuff from the movie, is perfunctory and crude, which provides a nice lead-in to mindless action. The fight choreographer uses lots of hopping: Perseus hops off rock, Perseus hops from Greek column, Perseus dodges sword attack then rolls into backward hop to strike blow. We’ve seen Worthington do stunts before, but they all look so clumsy here. Making it worse is the spinny camera, which orbits around every CGI monster so we can see every dime that was spent on fake digital effects — I picture the film yelling at me mid-orbit: “Look what we worked so hard on! Look at it! See it here! And then from this angle here! Don’t you forget how hard we worked!”

As for the big showboat pieces — the scorpions, Medusa and the Kraken — I guess they are about as noteworthy as any other CGI battle sequence. The scorpion scene is actually pretty good until the cast rides the giant scorpions through the desert. One character actually suggest they’re making good time on the scorpions, but we can clearly see they’re moving about as fast as that NASA machine, the one that moves rockets and shuttles from the hanger to the launchpad. I mean, come on, the cast would be better off riding a walrus or a giraffe, or maybe one of those sloths that Kristen Bell sobs at.

The action is dumb, and the dialogue dumber, but what makes me so frustrated is the cynicism and meanness in the plot. Jason and the Argonauts was a lot of fun, and so was the original Clash of the Titans to a certain extent, but this new version just seems shallow and grumpy. Where’s the wonder and adventure? Where’s the awe? And why does Perseus have to be a meathead and Zeus a cranky old fart?

The Greeks loved these characters, which is why the stories have survived for 2,000 years. But here, in Hollywood writers’ hands, the saga wouldn’t last even one summer. Two if you count the sequel.

Off topic: I typed this review originally on my iPad, which autocorrected the late great Pete Postlethwaite into “Peter posted white” and Sam Worthington into “Sam worrying ton.”  Postlethwaite  didn’t end up in the final review (maybe in the special edition I'll include deleted paragraphs); he plays Perseus’ adopted father.