The problem with Aquaman is that it doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. Half-hearted environmental PSA on the perils of polluting the ocean? Showcase for all the kaiju unleashed when the director is handed a lot of money? Tomb Raider-esque adventure quest? Ridiculous, over-the-top fantasy epic, í la Lord of the Rings? The answer shouldn’t be all of the above, but that’s what we get, and it’s a lot. At a runtime of over two and a half hours, Aquaman gets pretty hard to sit through, Jason Momoa’s rippling physique aside.
I did enjoy the irreverence of casting a jacked Hawaiian surfer dude oozing with testosterone as Aquaman, a comic book character known for being blonde, blue-eyed and regarded as the most useless member of the Justice League. This was obviously an attempt at turning the tables. Aquaman illuminates one of the reasons Momoa’s turn as Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones was so effective: there was so little of him. His character and storyline were spread out through seven episodes. Here, it’s two and a half hours of full-bore machismo for the sake of machismo. You’d think the swaggering braggadocio of Jason Momoa letting loose would never get old, but it does. It gets painful, after a while.
There are quite a handful of established actors in this piece who come with cult and Oscar cred. Nicole Kidman, Willem Dafoe and Patrick Wilson — often found in more serious, award-worthy work — play Queen Atlanna, Vulko and Prince Orm. I expected more out of Patrick Wilson, who was a convincing Night Owl in Watchmen, but nothing can help his performance in this particular movie. Being an Oscar-winner is not a hindrance to doing a good job in a movie with a silly premise, as Robert Downey Jr. has demonstrated so often. It requires a sort of insouciance, and self-awareness, and without it the performance becomes tedious and flat, as Kidman, et. al., demonstrate. You have to really embrace being part of a superhero flick. There is no slumming it. Everyone knows the actors are in it to make money, but they need to project a sense of fun, which none of them end up doing.
Except Jason Momoa. That one is on the opposite end of the spectrum. He’s having way too much fun, like the drunkest guy at the party, capering about while everyone else awkwardly looks on. It might even have been fun if he wasn’t so aware of why he was cast to be Aquaman instead of some blonde, milquetoast boy scout, taking every opportunity to look flirtatiously over his shoulder at the audience, asking for permission to come aboard.
The truth is, relying on that body can only take one so far (in this case, it’s a fair distance, Aquaman is now the highest grossing DC movie ever). Still, the Momoa physique just isn’t enough to distract from the fact that although the movie is beautiful and the underwater scenes are a marvel (my favourite visual is of Aquaman and Mera diving into the trench with a red flare, pursued by a thousand sea monsters), it’s still a disjointed, bloated mess with cringey dialogue, needless backstory and unnecessary exposition.
I’ve had it with these DC movies. They’ve had so many chances to get it right, and they still keep striking out. This’ll be the last time I voluntarily pay for a DCEU offering. Unless Christopher Nolan returns, I’m out.
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Author’s Twitter: @nikkajow
