- Will Smith as Hancock
My sole incentive to go and watch Hancock was Will Smith, specially after i found out that the character he plays is that of a booze-guzzling, dirt-streaked super hero, who causes the State more damage than what a successful bank robbery might manage to. Interesting, you’d think. And rightly so. Only, beyond the conceptualisation and characterisation, something goes off the mark. Something that may have to do with two other extremely important aspects of film-making : Cinematography and Direction.
The movie is about a badass superhero, who goes from being lonely, vindictive and publicity-phobic, to finding love, a purpose to his life and the truth about his past. And all this is made possible by Ray Embrey, a PR executive out to save the world, and his wife Mary, who turns out to be a closet superhero herself. Embroiled in some enigmatic history, and fantastical theories of existence, the trio, and little Erin fight great odds in order to maintain his status as a ‘likeable’ superhero.
And now, the bad news first. It may seem like cinematographer Tobias A Schliessler was attempting to give us a feel of the real, but the end product was disappointingly…shaken. it makes you want to yell- stop moving the camera so much man! The pace of the movie is unnecessarily hurried-feels like there are parts which need more elaboration, but Peter Berg just couldn’t be bothered. And then, the story-line : it is so disappointingly Bollywood-ish. The melodramatic end-sweet and soppy, literally, with the ‘all heart’ sign painted on the moon, and the scenes right before that, when every heart wrenching effort that Hancock makes brings Mary back to life, heartbeat by heartbeat, make the audience groan collectively.
But then, Will Smith manages to pull it off. He stinks, vandalises, doesn’t give a shit, and yet, he charms the birds out of their cushioned seats. He brings to the movie what Charlize Theron was supposed, but didn’t quite manage, with exposure that was restricted to extreme close-ups of furtive glances at Hancock. There’s another waste of talent. Jason Bateman does a good job too, but the limitations of his character, then again, do not fully utilise his talent.
That way, the movie essentially belongs to Smith, from the time he threatens South Asian criminals of having their heads going upcertain other parts of other people’s anatomies, to when he saves a policewoman in trouble, but not before telling her that she’s doing a good job and that if he’s gonna touch her, it is not ’sexual’. The comedy is good, the only thing really worth the effort, but at times is stretched to a point of no-return from vulgar-land.
All in all, its worth a watch. But don’t let the slapstick humour escape you. It’s what defines the crux of the movie, and the character, Hancock.
