National Treasure: Book of AWESOME
I was fairly indifferent toward the first National Treasure. True, it was goofy, fast-paced entertainment in the style (but not substance) of the Indiana Jones films, but I guess its stupidity overwhelmed the sense of fun. Because, really, there are three types of action-adventure movies: fun and smart (a la Indiana Jones, which is not necessarily “smart” in terms of plot or mythology but in the sense that they understand the conventions of an adventure film and either defy or play into expectations), fun but bland (2005’s Sahara), and fun and stupid. National Treasure falls into the last category, but it benefits from being so mind-boggling and ridiculous while the actors play it absolutely straight. Sure, there are attempts at legitimate humor — Justin Bartha’s surprisingly non-annoying computer nerd/wacky sidekick wouldn’t exist otherwise — but the story itself, while over-the-top and insane, isn’t played for laughs.
This didn’t work for me with the original National Treasure because, while fun, having Cage pursued by both the master-thief villain (played with sleazy menace by Sean Bean), the straight-laced FBI guy (Harvey Keitel, who I gotta say seemed kinda bored) felt like a little too much. I could take the FBI, but Bean’s character didn’t really add anything except more stupidity — but the annoying kind, not the fun kind. He mostly just sat there, acted menacing, and even admits at one point that all he has to do is wait for Cage to solve the puzzles. So where we initially think there’ll be a race-against-time, the suspense is dampened by the fact that Cage is racing against a guy who’s…just sitting around waiting for someone else to do the work. It’s like “The Tortoise and the Hare” on acid.
On the other hand, National Treasure: Book of Secrets sold me with the first trailer. I think it sold me with, “We have to kidnap the President.” Because one of the amazing things about the original National Treasure is that Cage plays a very black-and-white hero. He doesn’t want to steal the Declaration of Independence — he has to, in order to protect it. Similarly, in Book of Secrets, Cage needs the eponymous book, which only the President can see. Even if I were to ignore the other awesome elements — the conspiracy to discredit Cage’s great-great-grandfather, the city of gold under Mount Rushmore — the promise of a high-profile kidnapping made the movie worth checking out.
Nothing could have prepared me for the astounding awesomeness of the movie’s greatest moment:
Queen Victoria, not Benjamin Franklin Cage’s great-great-grandfather Thomas Jefferson Gates, was in on the conspiracy to assassinate Lincoln.
It’s a moment that passes so quickly, you’re not sure if it’s a real plot point or a fevered hallucination caused by transcendental genius, but yeah, it’s there. Queen Victoria sided with the Confederates because she wanted their cotton, and the whole chain of events leading to Gates’s naïve involvement trace back to her.
Only in a movie like National Treasure: Book of Secrets could something like this be treated as just another passing fact, but there you have it. It was at that moment that I realized the National Treasure series is truly something special — the closest thing to pure cinematic mayhem the mainstream world has to offer, with director Jon Turteltaub and husband-and-wife screenwriters Cormac and Marianne Wibberley spreading anarchistic wackiness through the dream-factory sandbox Disney lets them play around in. I mean, what other movie would have a serious line like, “We can’t let the Confederates get to the city of gold”?
The dual-villain gets a better treatment this time around, too. Something as bombastic and goofy as this doesn’t leave much room for subtlety, so it gets bonus points for treating Keitel and newbie villain Ed Harris with some respect. Keitel’s attitude this time around is along the lines of “what have you gotten yourselves into this time,” pursuing them more out of duty than desire. Harris starts out cartoonishly evil, first discrediting Cage’s own story about his ancestor, escalating until he commits something I can charitably describe as “attempted murder.” But once Harris realizes that he was wrong all along — duped by a conspiracy on top of a conspiracy — he nobly sacrifices himself to save the others.
Best of all, President Bruce Greenwood isn’t even angry that Cage kidnapped him. He willingly leads them to the Book of Secrets because he understands not only the importance of family — he understand the importance of Cage’s patriotic philosophy:
Benjamin Franklin Gates: Because it will probably lead us to the discovery of the greatest Native-American treasure of all time — a huge piece of culture lost. You can give that history back to its descendants. And because you’re the President of the United States, sir. Whether by innate character or the oath you took to defend the Constitution or the weight of history that falls upon you, I believe you to be an honorable man, sir.
President Bruce Greenwood: Gates, people don’t believe that stuff anymore.
Benjamin Franklin Gates: They want to believe it.
Both movies have surprising acting talent involved, from selling-out-and-phoning-in folks like Harvey Keitel to having-a-blast coots like Jon Voight — I’ll even defend the talents of Nicolas Cage, who usually gives good (or at least entertaining) performances despite appearing in only three actual good movies. When this ridiculous, cornball dialogue is delivered, I actually felt something — something you don’t get in vastly superior Alan J. Pakula thrillers from the ’70s: hope.
Like everything in the movie, it’s glossed over and pushed past like a behind-schedule parade, but there’s a definite — if unsubtle — truth to this dialogue, and in Cage’s delivery of that last line, that made me say, “Yes, people do want to believe it. I want to believe it.”
So no, it’s not a great movie, but I want to believe it is.
Posted by Stan on May 31, 2008 2:36 PM | Permalink | Print-Friendly | Reviews | Digg It
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