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A burned-out case

Ghost Rider hasn't a ghost of a chance
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By Steffen Silvis
Staff Writer, The Prague Post
March 14th, 2007 issue

COURTESY PHOTO
"I fell into a burning ring of dire." Cage as a hot rod from hell in Ghost Rider.
The death last week of comic superhero Captain America, an iconic (and ironic) victim of the Bush years, reminded readers that there has been some stringent criticism of our times coming out of Marvel headquarters recently. The storyline leading up to the assassination of Captain America (aka 99-pound weakling Steve Rogers) found our hero battling the Mayberry Machiavellis’ bunker-government plans for a kinder, gentler police state. Rogers, 66, is survived by Thor, Green Lantern and Spider-Man.
The other superhero in the news recently is Ghost Rider, aka Johnny Blaze, that flaming skull of righteousness who burns up the highways of America sorting out evil. Though otherwise seemingly in hale health, Ghost Rider, too, has fallen victim to an assassination plot, this time perpetrated by the faceless fiends of Hollywood.
Ghost Rider

Directed by Mark Steven Johnson
With Nicolas Cage, Eva Mendes, Wes Bentley, Sam Elliott and Peter Fonda

Director Mark Steven Johnson (whisper his name) has concocted what is perhaps the worst film based on a Marvel character to be screened yet. Ghost Rider is perfect only in that it fails on every conceivable level. There’s Johnson’s own cliché-sodden script, the Poverty Row special effects and computer generation, and, finally, the either exhausted or inept performances from his cast.
The plodding plot finds young motorcycle stunt rider Johnny Blaze on the cusp of selling his soul to the devil so that his cancer-stricken father might be saved. Dear old Dad dies, but Mephistopheles (Peter Fonda) did keep his word that the cancer would be healed. He just forgot to mention that Blaze’s pop was due to be toasted in a carnival ring of fire instead.
Because of this, Johnny, after the requisite stop at a crossroads to dare the devil, rides away from his former life — including the young woman who loves him, Roxanne.
Years later we find Blaze (Nicolas Cage) at the height of his fame as a motorcycle daredevil. He performs one unheard-of feat after another, seemingly employing the same cartoon physics that allow coyotes to survive steep falls and singed cats to utter “pardon” after some swallowed dynamite goes off.
Suddenly, into his life walks (more like clomps) Roxanne (Eva Mendes), a high-powered television reporter who corners Blaze for an interview. Sparks, if you will forgive me, will fly. Roxanne reclaims his heart. Alas, Mephisto himself will soon come calling to collect on Blaze’s soul. Blaze will be pressed into his satanic majesty’s secret service, as Old Nick is out to rein in his only misbegotten son, Blackheart (Wes Bentley), who is trying to find a famous roster of lost souls to claim for himself so that he can be the fount for all evil in the world.
Blaze is trapped. He must become the burning bounty hunter from hell. Will Roxanne, her love for him newly rekindled, stand by him? Will this become Beauty and the Blast-furnace?
A cheaper application of CG you could not hope to find outside of a cable access studio. The effects, like the dialogue, are so rudimentary that you’re never quite certain why some savvy editors didn’t re-cut this project as pure camp. A few Dutch angle camera setups a la ABC’s Batman and the film might have been salvageable … just.
The performances are all over the map. That easier rider, Fonda, and the young Bentley seem to believe they are involved in a real film, earnestly growling and moaning as evildoers do. Cage engages in an Elvis impersonation in the first part of the film, then switches to an automaton dispensing stale dialogue with all the motivation of a waiting room’s coffee machine.
Mendes is an oddity. Like some Tijuana Jayne Mansfield, she heel-clacks her way into the frame upholstered in polyknit a size too small. She is asked to flirt, smolder and exude passion, all of which she does with the conviction of a porn extra.
Marvel has done a fairly good job of creating a superhero for almost every conceivably baleful situation in the world. Wouldn’t it be marvelous to have one dedicated to thwarting the Hollywood machine?

Steffen Silvis can be reached at ssilvis@praguepost.com


Other articles in Night & Day (14/03/2007):

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