Morbius: review Batnaze Begins

distended universe

Abandon all hope you who enter the Sony’s Spider-Man Universe, aka SSU, and ex-old Sony Pictures Universe of Marvel Characters. ‘Cause it’s the territory of damned souls, doomed to re-evaluate on the rise Electra, Daredevil, Fantastic Four and Green Lanternas in the worst nightmare. Venom the watch, Venom 2 demonstrated it, and Morbius drive the nail into the coffin of good taste and common sense: the only ambition now is to occupy the land, fill the boxes, and furnish before the next scam.

Tom Hardy’s symbiotes seemed to have reached the depths of infamy, but Jared Leto’s vampire teeth scratch the floor of the underworld. Morbius confirms that the train is launched at full speed, with no destination other than the wall, and no motor other than the teasing – of a sequel, a Sinister Six, a crumb of Spider-Man.

It is an origin story reduced to the bare minimum. It’s a duel modeled on Venom (the serum instead of the symbiote). It’s a romance as hot as February. And above all, it’s a soft, ugly and cutesy show, which owes as much at the post-Matrix 2000s nerdy, than to bad fake horror movies of the same era. There is nothing more to see, nothing more to consume, and even more reason to be irritated in front of this cosmic void which makes you dizzy. The time of cinema, spectacle and pleasure is over. Welcome in the big number of meaningless business, which always digs its grave.

House of Goutdechiotte

dracularve

Morbius misses the first march, however royal, since it was a superhero and vampire movie. It was even the only real joker in the film to stand out. 18 years after the end of the trilogy Blade with Wesley Snipes (and as Marvel prepares its version with Mahershala Ali), the idea seemed almost revolutionary for Hollywood goldfish memory. Corn Morbius fails on both counts, and approaches the myth of long teeth with the finesse of a cinder block, giving a furious desire to reevaluate Underworld 5 and risewith Lucy Liu.

Apart from the name of Murnau plastered on a decor, the mention of Dracula for a joke or even a joke about the sun, the myth of the vampire by Morbius comes down to the transformation of the hero into a CGI puppet with each growl. The character could as well have transformed into a super-lizard and a super-salamander, without the story being upset. The ultimate irony being that the show is guaranteed to be 100% bloodstain free (mainstream film requires), which makes some scenes absolutely hilarious. In the sanitized world of Morbiusripping a throat or disemboweling someone is the equivalent of sweeping the sponge.

Worse, did you say worse?

Another laughing matter: Morbius East told, written and performed in the first degree, obviously to borrow from the myth of the vampire its gravitas. Except that’s just a cosmetic intent, sadly evident when flipping the character. First post-transformation reflex of this man who has never been in total control of his body, and has never stood on his legs without crutches: take off his shirt, and look at his muscles, in a vain echo of the Peter Parker of Sam Raimi. Two steps further, he puts on a jacket, the better to show the useless stupidity of this advertising parenthesis of porno-Leto. It is the best note of intention of a blockbuster that torches itself with its mythologyas long as the smell is quickly masked.

Always in the primer of vampires for dummies, the film also summons a little black romance and a pseudo family tragedy, obviously managed with the precision of a backhoe. The any crumb of characterization is sacrificed on the altar of specifications, to drag the hero through corridors of clichés (see the montage of his first exploits in his lab). Ditto on his enemy brother played by a freewheeling Matt Smith, who goes directly from lame to bad boy, thanks to a tribute not even assumed to Usual Suspects. Needless to mention poor Adria Arjona and Jared Harris, who could have been called Scientist 1 and Scientist 2.

The Batman key does not helpand further reinforces the buffoonery of Morbius. Nevertheless, Daniel Espinosa assumes it almost to the point of laughter, with his pseudo-tortured anti-hero, master of bats and citizen of a city where it is dark 18 hours a day (same hemisphere as Venom, without a doubt). So does composer Brian Tyler, who plays the same game, with sometimes wildly familiar melodies.

Contract scene

the bad of the VAMpires

All that remains is to observe the fantastic shipwreck of the spectacle, or rather that of renunciation, since Morbius has the effect of a flashback to Electra and other Hollywood nightmares. Ultra-slow motion, choppy editing, flat photos, nauseating spatialization, soulless sets, visual effects finished with piss: this is the museum of the banal horrors of the modern blockbuster. No one seems to be in charge anymore, whether in the embryo of the sequence shot of the metro, or with the inevitable climax in the nothingness of the CGI. Worse still: the film seems fast endless, horribly talkative and miserly in action.

Between the solid gunfights of Close security and the easy chills of LifeDaniel Espinosa was a logical choice for Morbius. But unsurprisingly, the film did not no identity, with zero sense of action, whether in the off-screen (the sequence on the boat), the speed (the fights between vampires) or the scale (the urban take-offs). Even the attributes of this anti-hero-superhero are barely comprehensible, beyond the few meager dabs of digital color to bring them to life in the dark of this city (and justify the neon pink in the credits, thank you neon demon). The scene where Morbius discovers for the first time the tangible character of sound is indecipherable, the fault of an absurd writing and editing. And his hearing-GPS is imaged with a jemenfoutisme that forces disrespect.

ultrasonic ultra-con

The incompetence is such that the film crashes on the most basic things, from the first scenes, with three temporalities and the first of a long series of narrative aberrations. You only have to see to what extent the characters and extras purely and simply ignore the fantastic character of Morbius (in the building, in the prison, in the metro), to say to yourself that all this is a vast joke. .

Morbius undoubtedly comes from the same mold as Venom. The movie is told in fourth gear, without any breathing to build the slightest stake, create the least suspense, feed the smallest emotion (palm of the worst kiss). Like the two horrors with Tom Hardy, it seems to have been edited despite common sense, with obvious cuts as the story is disjointed (not to mention the evidence in unpublished images, in the promo). The cop duo, omnipresent in a handful of heavy scenes, then ejected before the end, attests to this.

In its frantic race for Marvel-stamped gold bars, Sony achieves the unimaginable: setting a new standard of mediocrity, which would make Disney’s formatting seem like goldsmithery, and the DCEU’s mess like Pythagoras’ theorem. The post-credits scenes, failed and shabby at all levels, are a magnificent demonstration of this. Only a masochistic curiosity remains in the face of the next Kraven the hunter and Madame Web.