4/12 ForReel Score | 2/5 Stars

After a generation-defining trilogy in the 2010s, I was hopeful that the future of The Planet of the Apes franchise would be bright. Since the late 1960s, The Planet of the Apes movies have been a cornerstone in American blockbuster filmmaking, blending contemporary fears and anxieties with cutting-edge special effects into a truly awe-inspiring series of films. Despite some bumps in the road (I’m looking at you, Tim Burton), these movies have always managed to be top-of-the-line in terms of blockbuster filmmaking; which is why it pains me to inform you that the newest entry, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, is a frivolous and generic blockbuster affair.

Before I voice my complaints, it is worth noting that, just like the other contemporary Apes movies, Kingdom’s visual effects work is marvelous. The apes are properly emotive and the physical acting is expressive as always, but I couldn’t help but feel completely walled off from them from a writing standpoint. I never felt for Noa (played by Owen Teague) as a character, and I certainly felt even less for the supporting cast. Noa’s arc is incredibly cliched: he’s the young son of a leader who was murdered, and now the son wants revenge for his family and fief. It’s the run-of-the-mill Hamlet type of plotline except without any of the introspection, narrative weight, or general intrigue. I found myself bored to an immeasurable degree, constantly checking the time in hopes that the blockbuster equivalent of paint drying would be over. At least paint drying has some color, I suppose.

Despite taking place in a lush dystopian jungle, Kingdom is soul-crushingly flat regarding its visual language. Yes, the apes are photorealistic and look great, but the overcommitment to photorealism is an inhibition rather than a benefit. The problem here is that everything is photorealistic, not just the apes. The entire film is coated in a gray sheen of digital-ness, to the point where the slightest glimpse of color feels like a breath of fresh air. Whenever the movie isn’t shot in daytime light, it looks like there was a genuine commitment to lighting the scenery. When it is shot in daytime light, it’s a wonder as to why the science-fiction/fantasy blockbuster looks as dull as your average rainy day. At one point, the screen looked so gray that I thought the movie switched to black-and-white photography. The lack of color grading is such a baffling decision, making the entire movie feel more like a video game than anything cinematic. Wes Ball does what he can behind the camera, but it’s almost like trying to use a bucket to stop the Titanic from sinking; I’ve seen nature documentaries with more vibrance. I have no idea how it happened, but the newest Apes movie looks less visually appealing than the one from nearly thirteen years ago. It seems to be a common trait of modern Disney movies to be quite gray, but this was absolutely ridiculous.

The narrative is paper thin, and the themes are about as half-baked as the lackluster visuals. There is such an interesting premise in Kingdom, where the apes already have an established world and are the dominant species. Josh Friedman’s screenplay attempts to ask interesting questions about colonialism and how the apes are doomed to repeat the mistakes of their oppressors, particularly with the villainous apes using the tools of their oppressors to oppress other apes, but it never goes anywhere. One scene in particular, where the villainous tribe of apes attacks the protagonist’s tribe, breathes echoes of colonial acts of violence throughout history. The idea of ape colonialism is an interesting concept that is introduced as quickly as it is forgotten, leaving me high and dry from any thematic depth. Moreover, these interesting narrative threads are discarded for the same “What if humans and apes could get along?” question that’s been asked in the other nine films. It’s like the script is laughing at you for thinking too much and instead opts for something less cerebral than almost any other film in the franchise. Even the worst of these movies took some big swings now and then, while Kingdom suffers from a sleep-inducing lack of imagination.

Speaking of humans, the human characters in this film are also the worst in the franchise and mostly feel like obstacles rather than real people. Freya Allen does what she can with material that makes her character simultaneously feel like an afterthought and completely unnecessary. William H. Macy appears in a glorified cameo role in order to flesh out the human element, but like Allen, his performance can’t save lackluster material. The presence of humans inhibits the film from being truly special, and their weakly-developed subplot severely draws out Kingdom’s runtime. There is no reason that the first movie in the rebooted series should be longer than the final movie in the previous series, let alone the longest in the entire franchise. Clocking in at nearly two and a half hours, Kingdom justifies none of its runtime with its insanely sloppy writing and substanceless plotlines.

Between this and a standout comedic role in the horror-comedy Abigail, Kevin Durand is having an awesome year with his supporting roles. His performance as Kingdom’s villain, Proximus Caesar (which is such a cool name) is easily my favorite part of the whole movie. Since the script is so bland, Durand is given a lot of room to play and cultivates a truly magnetic screen presence. I found myself intrigued by Durand’s charisma and his deep bellowing voice; he would go far in the Shakespeare circuit. Unfortunately, all narrative intrigue or subtext is immediately discarded by the presence of Raka (played by Peter Macon), who serves as an expository device to explain everything there is to know about Proximus before he even appears onscreen. The concept of Proximus Caesar, a messianic ape who mangles Caesar’s (the protagonist from the previous trilogy) words into an excuse to justify his own wrongdoing is such a great idea, but it’s all squandered by Raka’s hamfisted explanation of the villain’s twisted motives. Unlike the previous trilogy of films (particularly Matt Reeves’ more mature entries), Kingdom holds the viewer’s hand throughout Noa’s journey, with a glaring absence of emotional connection.

The film’s biggest drawback is its unwillingness to escape the shadow of the previous trilogy. It’s almost like there was a complete understanding that they couldn’t hold a candle to them, so they didn’t even try. The absence of Andy Serkis’ Caesar is felt so drastically that the only scene in the movie that I found to be emotional was the one where he is present. It doesn’t help that the narrative feels so derivative of the previous War for the Planet of the Apes, particularly in the third act, where the protagonists attempt to break out of a militant fortress. Kingdom’s reluctance to try anything new narratively mixed with the hulking runtime serves as a stark reminder that I could be watching any of the other films instead. It’s hard not to compare Kingdom to the other three when Kingdom puts in so little effort to separate itself from its predecessors. It’s really upsetting that a movie with so much potential ended up being the most generic, bland, and lazy out of these past few films.

A more-than-disappointing entry into one of my favorite franchises Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is a generic blockbuster with little to care about and even less to say, but maybe that’s on me for expecting more.

Movie Review: "Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes" Is The Runt Of The "Apes" Bunch