Independence Day: Resurgence movie review (2016) | Little White Lies

Inde­pen­dence Day: Resurgence

22 Jun 2016 / Released: 24 Jun 2016

Two adults, a man and a woman, standing in a dimly lit setting. The man wears an olive green jacket and the woman wears a black outfit. They appear to be engaged in discussion.
Two adults, a man and a woman, standing in a dimly lit setting. The man wears an olive green jacket and the woman wears a black outfit. They appear to be engaged in discussion.
2

Anticipation.

This looks extremely stupid.

4

Enjoyment.

It is. But it just might be the most fun you have at the cinema this year.

3

In Retrospect.

A welcome hit of 90’s nostalgia. But please, no threequel.

Roland Emmerich’s shame­less­ly sen­ti­men­tal fran­chise reboot is big, dumb and a total blast.

It’s 2016 and Earth is in a state of unprece­dent­ed har­mo­ny. Sci­ence and tech­nol­o­gy are being used to fight famine and dis­ease, not wars, and every world leader is unit­ed in an effort to pre­serve human­i­ty while pro­tect­ing the plan­et. There’s a woman in the White House and Will Smith is a glob­al sym­bol of hope and sol­i­dar­i­ty. Seems an irk­some­ly quaint sce­nario, doesn’t it?

Indeed, you could be for­giv­en for find­ing this olive branch-gar­nished cock­tail a lit­tle too sick­ly to swal­low, espe­cial­ly giv­en the present cli­mate of fear-mon­ger­ing dem­a­gogues, mass shoot­ings and deep-seat­ed struc­tur­al inequal­i­ty. And yet there’s some­thing irre­sistibly roman­tic about the con­tem­po­rary utopia imag­ined at the start of Inde­pen­dence Day: Resur­gence – not because it speaks direct­ly to any spe­cif­ic real-world threat to our civ­il lib­er­ties but for pre­cise­ly the oppo­site reason.

There’s no obvi­ous agen­da here (it is refresh­ing­ly apo­lit­i­cal com­pared to most oth­er mod­ern action block­busters), nor does the film posi­tion itself as a brow-fur­rowed com­ment on our com­plex, deeply trou­bling times. Rather, direc­tor Roland Emmerich has deliv­ered an unfil­tered laser blast of cin­e­mat­ic escapism – a full-blood­ed sen­so­ry assault con­fi­dent­ly stripped of all nuance and pre­tence in order to max­imise its impact on a pure­ly super­fi­cial lev­el. Wor­ried about Brex­it? Watch Jeff Gold­blum flip off the UN by break­ing bread with a mis­cel­la­neous African war­lord. Con­cerned by Don­ald Trump’s threat to build a wall along the US-Mex­i­co bor­der? Look, they just destroyed half the West­ern Hemisphere.

Despite being the high­est-gross­ing film of 1996, Inde­pen­dence Day received mixed reviews upon release from crit­ics who pri­mar­i­ly tar­get­ed its weak char­ac­ters, dia­logue and sto­ry. This sequel-cum-remake doesn’t rep­re­sent a sig­nif­i­cant upgrade in any of those areas, but in a round­about way Resur­gence is more enjoy­able for it. The mar­ket­ing cam­paign may have bom­bas­ti­cal­ly promised big­ger, loud­er, more spec­tac­u­lar – as all mar­ket­ing cam­paigns are oblig­ed to do these days – but in prac­tice this is more or less an affec­tion­ate pas­tiche of the orig­i­nal, a super­charged B‑movie designed to exploit the cur­rent 90s revival while unashamed­ly cash­ing in 20 years of its own inflat­ed cul­tur­al col­lat­er­al. It’s deriv­a­tive in the extreme, excep­tion­al­ly dumb (not even Liam Hemsworth’s dis­tract­ing­ly hand­some pres­ence as a hot­shot moon cadet can dis­guise that fact) and huge­ly entertaining.

Let’s be clear: artis­ti­cal­ly speak­ing, Resur­gence, like its pre­de­ces­sor, is a large­ly unre­mark­able entry into the alien inva­sion canon. It doesn’t boast the best spe­cial effects or the most robust script – five cred­it­ed screen­writ­ers appar­ent­ly con­tributed to what is effec­tive­ly a high-fre­quen­cy feed­back loop of chest-swelling speech­es, dis­ori­ent­ing aer­i­al com­bat and half-baked nuclear ambush­es. And, more than any oth­er fran­chise instal­ment in recent mem­o­ry, this film can­ni­balis­es its own lega­cy with a fla­grant, some might say dan­ger­ous­ly cav­a­lier, dis­re­gard for any­one unfa­mil­iar with the ear­li­er events on its nar­ra­tive timeline.

Every crude­ly recy­cled motif and sen­ti­men­tal call­back to a return­ing char­ac­ter – regard­less of their rank or dis­cernible con­tri­bu­tion to the plot, both then and now – is drawn out for longer than seems strict­ly nec­es­sary. But you let it slide, because at this point being asked to rein­vest in a group of pro­tag­o­nists who’ve been off our screens for more than five min­utes feels like a nov­el­ty. Sure, it doesn’t make a whole heap of sense, but then nos­tal­gia works in strange and pow­er­ful ways. So don’t waste time occu­py­ing your mind with triv­ial details like who decid­ed to recast Vivi­ca A Fox as a hos­pi­tal admin­is­tra­tor and why would Jeff Goldblum’s dad dri­ve a school bus full of orphans into the mid­dle of the Mojave desert. Instead, sit back, embrace the chaos and raise a toast to the end of the world.

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