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With apologies to the fans of the comic books: I’ve never really got the Green Lantern. I mean, I get that he’s green, and is part of some intergalactic defense force league thing, but I can’t get over the feeling that as superheroes go he’s just, well, a bit crap. There’s nothing particularly cool about a green ring or a magic Feng shui lamp. (Nothing has ever been cool about jade jewelry or tacky nightglow bric-a-brac that looks recently raked from the bottom of the Goodwill dumpster.)

I’m fairly certain what happened is that DC Comics writer Bill Finger and artist Martin Nodell decided, back in the days of honest, heady, prewar marijuana, to really test the envelope of American gullibility (green energy smoke he can make into anything? C’mon, folks. How obvious can it be?).

So I went into the theatre with a certain disrespectful air, but, like every time I go to the movies, I couldn’t help but excitedly tingle a little in anticipation of the wonders about to be presented for my amusement.

All too often that tingle is dissipated a little too readily by movies that disrespect the audience. Though I didn’t particularly feel I was being dismissed as an idiot by the filmmakers, I did get the impression they were intentionally making the movie “just good enough” to get my bum into the seat. Ryan Reynolds plays Hal Jordon with his trademark flippancy, and is competent enough, but is let down by a script that appears constructed via device rather than artisanship and overshadowed by gratuitous special effects.

Kiwi director Martin Campbell certainly possesses superlative skill (Goldeneye, Casino Royale, Mask of Zorro), and judging by the number of writers credited, it appears he had to experience significant studio involvement, which typically means the story is going to be formulaic, vanilla, and dull. Well, guess what?

It’s nearly always a bad thing to open a movie with convoluted exposition, and Green Lantern is no exception (Star Wars and LOTR can get away with it because, well, they’re Star Wars and LOTR). Unless it’s superbly well-written, my eyes roll back in my head and I consider returning to the concession stand to buy smaller candy more suited for flicking at disruptive teenagers.

As the silly preamble washed over me, I ricocheted junior mints from the backs of loudly talking heads, that pleasingly swiveled madly in indignation, looking for the culprit. I managed to land a few pre-chewed ones in full buckets of popcorn, thoughtfully illuminated for judging my trajectory by the light from texting cell phone screens.

So while Green Lantern may be disappointing, I had a whale of a time.

PG13. Running time: 1 hr 45 minutes. Opened on June 17th.

Okay, it’s our first science fiction movie poll. Of the following (not very exhaustive) list, we’re looking for the three movies you liked the most. Simple, right?

Thank you for trying the poll! If there’s a movie missing that absolutely blows this list out of the water, then leave a comment, and be prepared to defend yourself. Then, we’ll add it to the poll.

Cheers — Michael

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by Stefan Abrutat

If you’re going to film a train crash, Get JJ Abrams. He just did for smashing up locomotives what Robert Zemeckis did for airplane disposal in Castaway. I involuntarily ducked in my seat several times as hurtling, screeching rolling stock cartwheeled across the screen, and I didn’t even see this bad boy in an IMAX theatre. Brace yourself, folks.

If there’s one thing I took from this movie it’s that JJ Abrams has matured as a filmmaker. Compared to his 2008 offering Cloverfield, he seems to have realized that moviegoers only experience the tension all the running, screaming and destruction are supposed to elicit if we actually give a shit about the characters. Empathy has to be earned. All too often in movies nowadays (most likely due to studio involvement trying to adhere to that “winning” formula), cardboard, cutout, assembly-line characters are mere window-dressing in the store that sells explosions.

In his current offering, Abrams directs with a deft hand, eliciting fine performances from his young cast, creating that elusive empathy. It takes elevated skill, not only with camerawork and post-production, to foster such connection. I’m seriously impressed.

I once asked a movie executive what type of movie was the hardest to pitch. He replied: “anything original”. Thus, I distrust the movie establishment: their marketing machine has systematically pointed me towards crap. I’m quite willing to punch a guy in a suit for stealing, from me, a couple of hours. Wouldn’t you?

In Cloverfield, by way of comparison, I was grimly looking forward to most of the characters dying, and was morbidly delighted when they did. I never once forgot I was watching a movie and these people were acting, often quite badly.

In Super 8 I sympathized with all the subplots, and became quite immersed, especially in the first act, which is what’s supposed to happen.

Upon leaving the theatre I got notes of Stand by Me and The Goonies in my cinematic aftertaste. Though not quite in the same league as these iconic movies, Super 8 is certainly sitting in a similar ballpark.