★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆
“Ramona flowers?” – Two words that entered my mind
during Rupert Sanders’ remake of Ghost in the Shell and refused to go
away, destroying any remaining chance it had of being taken seriously. Scarlett
Johansson’s perfectly arranged bangs and dyed tips echoed the look of Scott
Pilgrim Vs. The World’s manic pixie dream girl so irritably that every
accusation levelled at the films whitewashing came flooding to the forefront.
First a manga comic, then a critically revered
anime, Ghost in the Shell is a story predominantly focused on philosophical themes of humanity, identity and artificiality. Its heroine, Major
(played here by Johansson), is a human brain encased in a cyborg body, honed
and exploited by a tech corporation in near-future Japan to take down dangerous
criminals. In this version, Major begins to question her identity when repressed
memories emerge, coinciding with her attempts to apprehend criminal mastermind
Kuze (Michael Pitt).
There is no reason whatsoever that a direct live
action remake of Mamoru Oshii’s film couldn’t work: it could surpass the odd
barrier that some audiences have with anime and possibly make room for more
recent developments in the philosophical debate concerning our ever-evolving
relationship with technology. To its small credit, this new version does make
extraordinary use of contemporary digital animation, recreating the futuristic
landscape with aplomb. Cinematographer Jess Hall should be applauded for some
truly stellar work, as should composer Clint Mansell…but both deserve to have
their work attached to a far better film.
Anyone who’s seen the 1995 animation will be left exasperated
by the film’s spoon-feeding approach, and new audiences will gain little they
cannot find in other, far worthier films. Screenwriters Jamie Moss, William
Wheeler and Ehren Kruger shy away from doing anything that might remotely
challenge an audience with the fervour of a vampire shunning daylight. What
philosophical statements the film does exude are unoriginal at best, and issued
with the grace and volume of a foghorn at worst. “What we do is what defines
us”, Major blankly mutters to camera, simultaneously stealing the central
thesis of Batman Begins and condemning the film by its own mouth as
shallow and second-rate.
Not content with merely turning a treatise on what
it means to be human into just another “asset out of containment” thriller, Ghost in the Shell also turns iconic
characters into replaceable archetypes. Besides the obvious crime of casting a
white woman in a decidedly Asian role, conscripting Johansson as another
physically perfect but morally dubious killing machine is a thoroughly
uninspired move, and it shows. Pilou Asbæk does what he can as Major’s
sidekick, Batou, but is often lost in the scenery. Takeshi Kitano (the one
Asian actor in the main cast) brings his usual gravitas despite an underwritten
role, but Juliette Binoche (playing the Doctor behind Majors mechanical
enhancements) looks plain bored.
In all fairness, I think I’d have given up trying
long before her when presented with such a predictable script. Empty platitudes
aside, it’s just a bit insulting to have everything laid out so blindingly: for
some reason, Batou’s cybernetic eyes have a backstory, and the telepathic
communication between augmented humans are directly referred to as “thought-comms”.
Those odd, unexplained elements that helped the original stand out have been
muted by the heavy-handed exposition one would expect from a prequel, not an
outright remake.
The action sequences carry some swirling neon
elegance and the overall construction is solid (its vision of the future
possibly outstripping the as-yet unreleased Blade
Runner 2049), but there’s just no escaping Ghost in the Shell’s unforgivable
whitewashing and sheer intellectual bankruptcy.
