VDATLNTS.RVW 20010617 "Atlantis: The Lost Empire", Disney, 2001, , %A Disney %C Anaheim, CA %D 2001 %E Disney %G %I Disney %O www.disney.com %P 88 min? %T "Atlantis: The Lost Empire" At the beginning of the movie, we are presented with what is, truly, our sole source of information about Atlantis: Plato's story of it's destruction. Out of this scrap of information has come one of the most fertile breeding grounds for speculation that the world has ever known. Plato's description of Atlantis is thin. It lies to the west of Greece. It has an advanced civilization and technology. If we trust the numbers in his account, it is a subcontinent in the Atlantic Ocean. It was destroyed and "sank" in a very short space of time: a single night and day. (There is evidence that the story came to Plato from Egypt. If we accept a mistranslation of Egyptian numbers; a sort of "off by one digit" error; the description places us squarely on the island of Thera, in the Mediterranean Sea. This island is commonly believed to have been the centre of the Minoan civilization, which dominated the Greeks before they came to prominence. Since the Greeks, at the time, basically used big rowboats that could take advantage of favorable winds, a decent sailing ship would have been advanced technology. The island was destroyed by a volcanic explosion almost four millennia ago, and most of it sank below sea level. That was pretty much the end of Minoan civilization, or, at least, influence. Ironically, this happened about the time that a fellow named Moses was shepherding his relations out of Egypt. But I digress.) The screenplay appears to have been put together by committee. Loose ends abound. Why does an underground (and underwater) tunnel lead to a city that originally existed on the surface? Who created the giant lobster, and why is it still working when nothing else is? What happened to Grandpa, and why didn't he go after Atlantis? What makes the villain think he can get to the surface through a volcanic vent that presumably opens underwater? How did the honourable ancestors get out of the cavern within a cavern? Why haven't the team killed Cookie already? Why do people who must have been writers at one time forget how to read when they are surrounded by inscriptions? Why does the lost city know "lingua-Roma" when they sank out of sight more than a millennium before Latin was more than a local dialect spoken by the inhabitants an obscure village in Italy? What happened to the cat? We have the standard cast of Disney characters. There is the good- hearted but misled hero, the princess, the old sage nobody listens to, the newly standard villain-in-goodguy-clothing, and the eccentric companions. In it's ongoing attempts to offend everyone equally, Disney this time has the part of the comic animal sidekick played by a Frenchman. The story committee does not appear to have come to any agreement as to whether the tale is a comedy or a tragedy, and the result is the usual farce. Motivation, always problematic with recent Disney movies, seems to have been completely abandoned in this attempt. Characters change in an instant. The hero, a bumbling innocent through most of the film, changes in the final ten minutes to the Last Action Hero. The team leader goes from all-American to monster quite suddenly (and, in the end, literally). (It must be said that James Garner does a good job of the "disciplined villain" part.) A band of tomb robbers, together for a number of years and escapades, changes sides the first time somebody tells them they should be ashamed of themselves. A thirty eight hundred year old princess not only still looks like a teenager, but acts like one as well. The Review Project's sociology consultant has noted a definite "anti- Barbie" influence at work: both the good princess and the wicked vamp have larger hips and thighs than ... chest measurements. This is more than a mere fashion statement. Heretofore, women have been, even if important to the plot, primarily the objects of men's desires and/or protection. While the women in "Atlantis" are few, they are fairly strong. The princess starts out as quite a powerful character, and even gets to chide the hero for his wimpish aspects. The wicked vamp henchperson is a completely new role, and even, in some ways, an admirable one. She is not in love with the prime villain, but is working with him on her own terms and for her own reasons. She even gets to take her own revenge for betrayal. (Coincidentally, we also saw the "anti-Disney" movie this week. Shrek has a very strong female character, who can take care of herself in a fight with six armed guerrillas, using the best moves from both Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan.) Disney's strange relationship with computer animation is still evident. While the lobster and the submarine are obviously primarily computer generated, traditional animation still takes centre stage most of the time. Oddly, the traditional animation seems to be getting worse. Hands are particularly bad this time around, so much so that one is jarred out of "willing suspension of disbelief" any time one appears. On the other hand (sorry), the marketing department seems to have gotten the message even if senior management hasn't. The movie trailer concentrated heavily on the computer generated images, which is one reason why the trailer is so much more exciting than the movie. (Those interested in seeing the movie based on the trailer advertising may be sorely disappointed in the actual product.) The "modern" technology (circa 1914) is a bit of a problem. When we land on the shores of the underwater cavern, we are in a vessel that holds at least ten trucks, one of which is at least ten feet high and thirty feet long, plus staff and supplies. So our ship has to be at least a small ferry, a minimum of fifty metres (150 feet) in length, and probably longer. When it detaches from the submarine, it appears to be less than a tenth of the length of the larger ship, so that makes our sub about 750 metres long and roughly one hundred metres wide. Inside the freighter the sub is dwarfed by the hold, so the hold has to be at least five hundred metres wide and about the same height. Given the aspect ratio of the freighter, we have a ship that is roughly five kilometres, or three miles, long. We also have folding aircraft that are astoundingly capable (and amazingly Teutonic looking) that would have made mincemeat out of any aircraft in the first world war. (Billy Bishop wouldn't have had a chance.) Initially, I had less trouble with the Atlantean technology. In Arthur Clarke's inimitable (though arguable) phrase, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic: we shouldn't expect to understand it. However, the Project's sociology consultant pointed out that it isn't Atlantean technology, it's Atlantean theology. And so it is. How else do you explain that Atlantis Light and Power Corp needs a human sacrifice every few thousand years? Oh, and what a mixed theology it is, to be sure! We have eastern ancestor worship, African tribal masks, Polynesian totems, animist facial tattoos, mid-east "sacrifice of the royal line," gnostic secret knowledge, pantheist pervasive powers, Greek "rescuing the loved one from hell," Norse giants, and, for the newagers, crystals, going toward the light, and a general, vague, "feel good" power that makes everything come out all right, regardless. The Church of the Whatever with a vengeance. Now, the kids seemed to like it. Mind you, this particular age seems to like Bananas in Pajamas, too. They like things that move, things that are noisy, flashes and vistas with no particular reason to them. These the movie does provide. But it doesn't provide any of the depth that would be needed to make it a classic. copyright Robert M. Slade, 2001 VDATLNTS.RVW 20010617