Give this authentic old style car to run something solid on, it will go miles, MILES!
Proyas has got the style that fits right in for a comic book film. Definitely not for this current generation, although I’d love to see a throwback every now and then, that warps me back to the late 80s Tim Burton era. And as far as breathing that essense is concerned, Alex Proyas, the co-writer and director, has got that particular style written all over these gorgeous rich images shared in this film. But just like any style would, it only has legs to run so far. Just the first act, in this case. For after the tone sets in and the demand kicks in, the substance grows necessary and the luxury (style, as mentioned) feels like famished into that bank, which the makers feel free to use as an excuse of narrative.
What actually the film feeds on other than glamour is how it romanticizes a secret, a rumor. Everything is hyped up to the perfect amount, teasing us, preparing us for a dazzling show that ends up only in the been-here-seen-that acts. Also it’s not just the predictability but also its inadequacy to satisfy us with that very expected product. And I don’t just mean the film in its entirety.
But also, what is part of it. Characters, disappoints. Relationship disappoints. World, disappoints. Arcs, is what we are left with, generically mystic; which by the way could also be interpreted as commercially or irrelevantly. And among these disappointments, the star cast holds on to their reputation, from Jennifer Connelly as a fishy seductress to Kiefer Sutherland as the know-it-all messenger to William Hurt as the uncompromised hunky detective to Rufus Sewell as our empathetic protagonist sharing our views, viewer’s views, for the most part of the film. Dark City is dark, undoubtedly, but it is not bright enough to prove why is it so dark, it’s just dark- I cannot say dark enough.