LIMITLESS
LIMITLESS, directed by Neil Burger, starring Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro. Rated M, 1hr 45mins.
NOW THAT WAS FUN! Clearly one is not in a position to declare authoritatively in public that this film about illicit drug-induced highs produces its own drug-induced high, but from what one hears about such things, it’s kind of how that kind of high might feel.Which is clearly what director Neil Burger had in mind as he amped up the accelerants fuelling this trippy thriller.
Limitless is classy high-gloss escapism with a brain, a savvy script, a sense of humour and, which is crucial, a hero whose clear blue eyes and likeable demeanour might well have you onside even if the movie was essentially rubbish. Which it isn’t – though its “what if” sci-fi-ish scenario about a designer drug with almost magical transformative powers is based on the sheerest folderol.
But the trick with a scenario where credibility is potentially the first casualty is to carry the audience with you – to suspend disbelief, as they say in the filmmaking guides – so that we’ll just enjoy the ride. And Burger, (remembered for the intriguing, but much more staid, Edward Norton drama The Illusionist) has the task well under control, injecting everything in the film – in particular the camera – with a hefty dose of addict’s euphoria, so that we too are careening around the canyons of New York city in sync with the hero on his ultra-energised IQ high.
In the case of this week’s other fantasy release, the blockbusting sci-fi saga Battle: Los Angeles (of which more later) this state of suspended disbelief is, crucially, not achieved. So you’re left watching the maelstrom of brain-busting special FX going by with the sinking feeling that you’ve seen it all before and you didn’t believe it the first time. And indeed poor old Los Angeles has been blasted into stone age–style special FX rubble in so many cinematic disasters so many times you probably have seen it before.
No such worries in the determinedly up to the minute Limitless, which has arrived, to its advantage, squarely in the present tense and post the global financial crisis. It can therefore bounce off the backdrop that has seen the naming and shaming (if not jailing, as the superb doco Inside Job laments) of high-flying corporate crooks – and a heightened awareness of the fact that the greed is good philosophy is alive and thriving in a CBD near you.
This is helpful because the nice young man at the centre of Limitless (Bradley Cooper) is, when we first meet, a scruffy, would-be author who’d be suffering from writer’s block if he’d got beyond the title page. He’d like to do the right thing by his long-suffering girlfriend (Abby Cornish), but offered a chance to transform via an off–the-books designer drug, he abandons his nice-guy persona and principles in favour of, you guessed it, life at the big end of town. (GFC notwithstanding, high end stock-market stalkers continue to be 21st century shorthand for ultimate success, even if their lavish lifestyle comes complete with the lurking suspicion that for all the gold plating, it’s a poisoned chalice).At this point, happily, we meet Robert De Niro, the film’s other bonus, who brings a swag of gravitas to the potentially flaky storyline as a canny corporate legend who has his doubts about Cooper’s freakishly gifted new whiz kid on the block. (There are some nice moments between the veteran De Niro and the younger actor, on the strength of which, reportedly, De Niro has more collaboration in mind – Cooper, with this role, having clearly nailed it as a frontrunner in Hollywood’s latest line-up of leading men).
The story begins with a chance meeting that puts Cooper’s character in touch with an old college mate-turned-dealer who tells him about the designer drug he’s flogging to mega rich customers. As we watch, our boy, having popped the potion, is transfixed. (One of the film’s best effects is the luminous afterglow in which the users and their surroundings are bathed as the drug’s hyper-reality takes effect.) Returning to his dingy apartment he finds himself galvanised, his electrified brain corralling complex facts and figures at hyper speed, whatever the task – slamming out a bestseller or solving complex linguistic and mathematical problems. It’s master of the universe stuff. And who wouldn’t go back for more. But within a few hectic minutes the dealer has been murdered, and our boy finds himself in possession of an (almost) limitless supply of the drug. Of course if you think about it – as he doesn’t at first despite his newly refurbished brain – there will inevitably be others coming after him who supplied the drug and crave supplies. And since it’s a high-end drug they’ll be high-end avengers. And so they are. And with that, we’re off.
The pace doesn’t really flag and the only weak spot in Burger’s speedy scenario seems to be how to resolve the finale, which could do more with the seeds sown earlier in the film about Faustian bargains made amid extreme temptations. But an effectively niggling notion is planted as you leave, to do with politicians and pacts with the devil. Which, with elections in the wind, is as timely as tomorrow.
MEANWHILE back in the future, the Battle: Los Angeles action is strictly by the numbers. And while it would be churlish to expect this sort of saga to be other than formulaic, few have had the essential elements thrown together quite as haphazardly as they are here. One novel aspect is that the usual task of setting up the storyline is given the go-by altogether. As the film opens in what feels like reel two, we are plunged willy nilly into the midst of some sort of sci-fi battle zone. What’s going on? Who knows? It’s a fast food fest for militaria and mayhem freaks. It’s as if they decided to ramp up our enthusiasm by grabbing us by the scruff of the neck and saying – look, isn’t this amazing – before introducing the plotline. Which is understandable since the plotline, when it arrives, is barely there: mostly delivered via hints from the babble of media reports in the background. At one point, at the height of the confusion, the TV news oracle informs us helpfully that, “One thing is clear, the world is at war.” After lots of locking and loading and a smattering of dialogue of the “Boo-yah marines!” and “Yes sir, staff sergeant sir!” variety, it turns out it’s a race against time. Bombs will be dropped in three hours and before then it will be up to the brave little band of marines, led by– of all unlikely hard men – Aaron Eckhart, to save the civilians and nobble the nasty aliens.
The engineering of the protracted battle scenes is technically marvellous, I have no doubt, and the role of editors remains fascinating to contemplate, as they take time off from cutting complex battle scenes together to insert the minimal moments required for the live actors to do a bit of live acting. Eckhart may have welcomed the limitations, looking as dazed and confused as we are to find him slugging it out with giant metal-clad daddy-long-legs from a galaxy far, far away.
Who the aliens are, where from, and what their intent, are not matters the filmmakers trifle with. Why bother with a back-story when there’s zip at the front end? And who needs actors anyway? The film is like a big screen video war game and according to one outraged audience member, loudly regaling his mates on the way out, that is exactly what it was, having ripped off all its (best?) ideas from the game Resistance. I looked it up later and yep, sure enough, it’s about an intrepid marine who saves the day against a bunch of alien invaders. Boo-yah.
