Edge of Tomorrow

Some of the information in this review goes beyond what you might want to know before seeing the film. Edge of Tomorrow is clearly the most expensive example of silly gameplay to come along in a long time and possibly the most popular film among Cruise’s detractors, because in no other film does Tom die so many times. With its bold combining of the poetics of both films and video games, it underestimates the difference in the elementary principles on which the cinematic and gaming experiences are based. We go back to games because of the possibility to become (through our avatars) stronger, faster and more agile and to improve these abilities through repeated playing. Films take the element of interactivity out of our identification with the character and deprive us of the feeling that we are the ones who are becoming more capable (though in a certain respect, every viewing of a film is also an interactive activity during which we improve our cognitive ability). Therefore, films should strive to flesh out the characters and to support our emotional connection to them by gradually doling out information. In short, a well-thought-out story and believable characters should have priority over the more immediate “motion and emotion”. In this respect, Edge of Tomorrow falls critically short. The story is just as one-dimensional and dully straightforward as in any given action video game. The characters don’t put much effort into finding a solution that doesn’t involve a lot of shooting and corpses. Though we get into the protagonist’s head on a number of occasions and see the world through his eyes (the very game-like scanning of the space), the film does not give us enough clues as to why we should root for him. Besides the fact that he is a coward who doesn’t want to fight, we learn almost nothing else about him. His vague characterisation corresponds to the requirement of “open” video-game characters onto which players can easily project themselves. (Emily “Full Metal“ Blunt thus portrays the formulaic beautiful action heroine whom every second nerd can platonically fall in love with – though she is outwardly stubborn, tough and indomitable, the increasingly capable hero takes her under his wing as expected and she is thus transformed into just another fragile love interest). However, what works in a video game comes across as screenwriting laziness in a film. The most pronounced transformation that the protagonist undergoes consists in the improvement of his physical skills rather than in the reassessment of his opinions on war, fatalism and other issues that lend themselves to the story. But particularly because of the special abilities that he possesses, we don’t have any reason to fear for him through most of the film (the screenplay certainly does not sufficiently exploit the potential of the situation when Cage was only seriously wounded but didn’t die). We can thus only be amused by the various ways he dies and how he embarrasses the other characters with the scope of his knowledge.  Not even the narratively important fact that in some scenes he sees farther into the future than the viewer does (and is thus explicitly used as the narrator of the story, or rather as a player who makes it through to the next level) was elaborated beyond simple gags and affected gestures. Liman was ironically least influenced by video games in directing the action scenes, which contain three times more cuts than would be necessary, so they are at least three times less clear than they could have been. Edge of Tomorrow is an entertaining summer lark that graphically demonstrates how counterproductive an excessive yet poorly though-out attempt to combine film and video-game elements can be. Simple imitation is not enough and, at least in my case, leads especially to thoughts about how much more fun it would have been to just play the game. 70% (03/06/2014) (less) (more)