| New adventures of Lara Croft on Moscow screens Lara Croft - the title character of a series of popular computer games, a virtual girl without an address, but with character, an expert in the field of ancient treasures and a kind of Indiana Jones in tights - first gained screen flesh two years ago. The flesh belonged to the wonder actress Angelina Jolie, so Simon West's film was quite watchable. But even for a world in which the film adaptation of computer walkers is a matter of course and is included in the list of fine arts, the first “Tomb Raider” was an outstanding phenomenon in its meaninglessness, emptiness and clumsiness.
However, now that we are gifted with the second part, equipped with the long-necked title “Lara Croft - Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life,” it’s probably worth revisiting the first episode and taking back what we said. Because I haven’t seen anything more absurd than “Lara Croft” number two for a long time - if ever. Jan De Bont took up the case - a former outstanding cinematographer who worked on half of Paul Verhoeven's films, stood behind the camera on Die Hard and The Hunt for Red October, and made his directorial debut in the classic Speed. However, after watching “Lara Croft”, one has to remember not about these achievements, but about the fact that De Bont’s filmography included films with titles like “Paranoia”, “The Child in the Tree” and “Amsterdam Porn House”. Any of these titles fit like a glove for the master’s latest creation.
This time, Lara Croft travels around the world in search of the Cradle of Life, where Pandora's Box - the same one from myths - is hidden from sin. She needs to find the Box before the next planet-wide maniac gets to it. This is where the retelling of the plot will have to end, because otherwise the text will have to use expressions such as “a ride on a live shark”, “a Kazakh maximum security prison” and “the main villain is a Nobel Prize winner”, and the review will finally turn into poprishchina notes. But all of the above is actually present in the film!
However, it is better to see this with your own eyes. Despite the fact that “The Cradle of Life” is amazingly, unimaginably, enchantingly stupid, it is very pleasant to watch. This pleasure, of course, is not for the mind, not for the heart, and not even for the eyes, but for some other, much less important, but no less attractive parts of the body: similar sensations can be experienced by stretching out in a chair after a hard day and wiggling your fingers legs A special pleasure is the Russian dubbing, which is extremely adequate to what is happening on the screen. When the most valuable artifact, for which many lives were sacrificed, is called from the screen nothing more than a “casket,” the last misanthrope will discover a smile of Cheshire proportions on his eternally dissatisfied face.
And, of course, Lara Angelina herself. Whether the crypt ripper is galloping on a horse on an English estate, juggling a rifle with a bayonet attached somewhere in African dungeons, or wrapping herself in a snow-white down jacket in the endless steppes of Kazakhstan - everything in her is harmony, everything is marvelous, everything is above peace and passions. And before, one had to doubt its natural origin: a creature with such a combination of forms and proportions simply could not be born from a father and mother. But now there is no trace left of the “natural product”. Looking at Jolie, you remember the triumphantly strong-willed athletes Leni Riefenstahl, the Bride of Frankenstein, Maria Futura from Lang's Metropolis, the Worker and the Collective Farm Woman, finally. She could easily play the Ternatrix if Kristanna Loken weren't around. But in fact, it’s better for her not to play anything at all. From now on, Lara Croft’s place is not on the screen, but in a niche in the Ploshchad Revolyutsii metro station. Opposite Schwarzenegger.
And the notorious “casket,” by the way, was never opened. They were already getting ready, and then, scared, they pushed the lid back. But judging by the characteristic glow coming from under the lid, there is no doubt that it is similar to the contents of the suitcase with which the heroes of “Pulp Fiction” were hanging back and forth.
And, therefore, the soul of Marcellus Wallace is kept in Pandora's Box.
Signature:
Lara Croft (Angelina Jolie) is an inorganic lady from brain to bone Stanislav F. ROSTOTSKY |
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