Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)

In 1968, when the first Planet of the Apes movie was released, the prevailing issues of the day were pretty black and white, if you ask me. Should we go around detonating nuclear weapons because of differing political ideologies even if one of those ideologies is communism? Not if we like our babies with ten fingers, two eyes, and one head. Do Blacks deserve to be treated as full humans and citizens of their own nation as much as their White counterparts? Duh. Who is really to blame when the mistreated servant usurps his warmongering, thickheaded master? Is that really even a question?

But, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

These days, it feels as though our moral landscape is murkier (Someday my children may disagree.) So many of us–from the vegans who hug trees to the squints who cure diseases–mean well. But can we ever do well? After all, it’s not the road to heaven that’s paved with good intentions.

That’s the question at the heart of Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the Fox franchise’s most recent reboot. In it, James Franco plays Will Rodman, a sensitive scientist with a personal stake in finding a cure for Alzheimer’s: his own father (John Lithgow) is quickly being ravaged by the disease. In his experiments, he comes upon a promising serum that, tested in chimpanzees, repairs damaged neural pathways and increases intelligence. Will is set to present his findings to his big-pharma bosses, including a money-grubbing superior named Jacobs (David Oyelowo in a never-ending parade of Brioni suits) when disaster strikes. The main test subject, a chimp nicknamed Bright Eyes, secretly gives birth and goes berserk in order to protect her young. The project is cancelled and the scientists are compelled to kill all of the simian subjects.

Well, not all. Will becomes a foster father to the baby chimp in the hopes that the furry friend will help stem his father’s descent into dementia. As an added bonus, it seems that not only has the little ape named Caesar (a motion-captured Andy Serkis) inherited his mother’s green eyes, but he’s also inherited her advanced intelligence. After a few years, the precocious Caesar becomes a moody, confused adolescent gifted with the ability to reason, use sign language, and feel, but lacking the freedom to journey outside without a leash around his neck.

After a couple of run-ins with a dickwad neighbor, Will is forced to confine Caesar to an ape sanctuary, only sanctuary isn’t the right word. It’s more like a Dickensian animal prison, where Caesar–along with other chimps, orangutans and gorillas–is treated cruelly by a tool named Dodge Landon (Tom Felton). It’s here that Caesar comes to understand that he belongs neither in Will’s world nor in the world of his fellow apes. After being electro-shocked and having a hose turned on him, he decides to take a Promethean turn, stealing Will’s serum, converting his cellmates to intelligent apes, and leading them in an uprising against their oppressors.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes is an interesting animal in that it’s a careful character study of an animal. This is computer-generated magic at its finest, not only because all of the apes are rendered realistically enough not to cause constant distraction, but because Caesar, as embodied by Andy Serkis (also riveting as Gollum in The Lord of the Rings trilogy), is the most human thing about the film. Motion capture technology has become all the rage–from the groundbreaking Avatar to that dreadful Green Lantern business—but it’s only in the hands, face and body of a truly gifted character-actor like Serkis that it becomes anything more than just a gimmick.

As with Gollum, I could hardly pull my eyes away from Caesar’s as they alternately expressed curiosity, devotion, and rage. The Bright Eyes moniker is a clear nod to the 1968 franchise opener–a nickname given to Charlton Heston by Kim Hunter’s Dr. Zira–but even more so to Serkis’ unique ability to convey so much with those big ol’ peepers of his. His casting as Caesar by relative newbie director Rupert Wyatt is the film’s strongest move.

That’s not to say Wyatt doesn’t excel in other areas, including a fun-to-watch, suitably blockbuster-y final showdown on the Golden Gate Bridge. Big stuff gets hurled, cars and choppers get blown up, and it all looks pretty good. Still, if that’s the sort of action you’re headed to the theater for, you should be aware that you’ll wait a long, long time for it. The majority of Rise of the Planet of the Apes consists of watching Caesar grow and develop relationships, first with humans, then with his own kind.

As the humans go, Franco and Freida Pinto (cast as his gorgeous but otherwise pointless veterinarian love interest) recite the dialogue they’ve been given well enough. I only wish that scripters Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver had given them more lines that reflected the morally murky world I mentioned earlier. Instead, these characters are so bland that humans–with the exception of Landon and Jacobs–come off as victims, barely complicit in their own inevitable demise.

The truth is much more complicated than that. It’s rooted in the question of our time: Is any attempt to disrupt nature from taking its course an abomination, even if it’s done with empathy, kindness and the very best intentions? I see a possible answer hinted at in Lithgow’s performance and his character’s final fate. But the allegory could have been fleshed out further. Maybe they’re saving it for the sequel.

Even with that criticism, Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a thoroughly entertaining summer movie. As a prequel, it manages a reasonable amount of reverence for the original (the script manages to work in one of the film’s most famous lines with only the slightest whiff of camp) while re-positioning it for a modern audience. Plus, it gives Andy Serkis a venue to show off his skill. And I’ll never complain about that.