tederick.com reviews

• index
• tederick.com home

spielberg in the 80s

• raiders of the lost ark
• e.t.
• indiana jones and the temple of doom
• indiana jones and the last crusade

spielberg in the 90s

• jurassic park
• schindler's list
• the lost world: jurassic park
• saving private ryan

spielberg in the 00s

• a.i.: artificial intelligence
• minority report
• catch me if you can
• the terminal
• war of the worlds
• munich
• indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull

spielberg in the 10s

• the adventures of tintin: the secret of the unicorn
• war horse

---

There's nothing inherently wrong with The Terminal; it's another whimsical comedy from Steven Spielberg, along the lines of Catch Me If You Can. It's in service of the same overriding theme that has been Spielberg's primary preoccupation since Saving Private Ryan. It contains many of the flourishes and elements that proliferate in much of Spielberg's work, and it develops an undeniable level of charm as it picks up momentum. Unlike last time, though, it just doesn't get all the way there for me - it's all too much of the same, seen before, many times. This movie evaporated from my mind as soon as the credits rolled.

The flick begins with a surprising bit of parody, as the workers in the terminal set up in their booths and begin receiving the unwashed masses, almost duplicating the entire opening sequence of Schindler's List. Victor Navorsky (Tom Hanks) arrives and is quickly informed that his country no longer exists, and that as he can neither return there nor enter the United States, he's trapped in No Man's Land - you guessed it, that wacky "Terminal" you've heard about. The next two hours are a workable tale of Victor trying to get used to his surroundings, a fantastically-elaborate set commissioned by Spielberg that adequately captures the middle-American mall-ness of most airline terminals.

Hanks is lovely as Victor, a befuddled yet resourceful fellow from an impossible Eastern European country who gets to try to figure out this crazy, cookie-cutter American existence he's been flung into. Like the jazz musicians he is seeking, he effortlessly picks up a posse of side-men (hysterical and endearing, played by the fabulous Chi McBride, Diego Luna, and Kumar Pallana). He plays Cyranno for one of his friends and a comely customs agent (Zoe Saldanna, the only pirate who ever slapped Jack Sparrow); he woos a beautiful, flakey flight attendant (Catherine Zeta-Jones). Like I said: charming. In spite of a fairly dark opening where Victor races back and forth through the terminal, trying to glean news of his war-ravaged home country with tears in his eyes, the rest of the film is played largely for laughs and the occasional "awwww."

Still, it all feels like automatic handwriting to me. Spielberg's craft is in fine form, not quite as showy as usual, but still deft with the occasional visual gag (the proliferation of photocopies of Victor's hand, the rallying cry for his quasi-revolutionary stand against the airport management, makes searching the screen worthwhile). Ditto for Williams' score, ditto for Kaminsky's lighting, ditto for Kahn's editing. The gang's all here, but none of them are doing anything we haven't seen them do before. And frankly, by the end of Terminal I was getting a bit tired of waiting.

So, I suppose, my perennial question is fast becoming an out-and-out plea: when, oh when, is Steven Spielberg going to get back to making Steven Spielberg movies?