Đánh giá men in black international

Neeson and Hemsworth effectively replace Jones and Smith, and, this time around, Tessa Thompson is added to the mix to challenge the gender stereotype of the black-clad “men”; with Dark Phoenix, the X-Men just went through a similarly insincere and perfunctory bout of self-questioning on this issue. In a similarly earnest spirit, this MiB tackles the idea of aliens as migrants who are not necessarily to be reviled, although this notion goes nowhere and the film can find no way to handle it as anything other than a tricky complicating factor. Thompson herself, usually a charismatic performer who was stylish and amusing last year in Boots Riley’s satire Sorry to Bother You, now has the life squeezed out of her by this wearying film.

The idea is that Agents High T (Neeson) and H (Hemsworth) face down an attack from the evil Hive at the Eiffel Tower, and their own heroism and its mysterious aftermath is presented in parallel with the backstory of Agent M (Thompson). As a smart little kid 20 years ago, given to reading Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time in her bedroom, she witnessed her mum and dad get attacked by a strange little alien, and then saw the Men in Black show up, deal with the creature and then wipe her parents’ memories with their weird “neuralyzer” wand.

She grows up obsessed with aliens and this hidden agency and finally gets her chance to join. But M must first impress the MiB chief, Agent O (Emma Thompson). She gets inducted into the organisation in a sub-Kingsman way and then she has to deal with the arrogant but somehow lovable partner, Agent H. Rafe Spall does his best with a supporting role as the nerdy agent, sparring with alpha male Hemsworth.

The story trudges through an uninteresting series of permutations and CGI detonations. The “International” of the title means we travel from New York to London and Marrakesh, although our trio’s appearance in each location could as well have been achieved via a green screen. All the sprightliness that Hemsworth showed in the Avengers movies and in the Ghostbusters remake is nowhere to be found: both script and direction mean that the spark isn’t there, and Thompson has no real chance to shine.

It’s time to wave the neuralyzer in the face of every executive involved and murmur softly: forget about this franchise.

Neuralyze This: Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth team up as Agents M and H in the fourth installment of the Men in Black series. Sony Pictures hide caption

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Sony Pictures

Neuralyze This: Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth team up as Agents M and H in the fourth installment of the Men in Black series.

Sony Pictures

If Hollywood studios are content to cannibalize the vaults in search of new hits, the first thing they should remember is why the original films were hits in the first place. For all the bells and whistles that went along with the original 1997 Men in Black, with its cutting-edge alien effects, the reason it works is extremely old-fashioned, rooted in an effective cross-pollination between fish-out-of-water comedy and mismatched buddy comedy.

There were plenty of laughs in Will Smith's knockabout reactions to a secret agency tasked with containing the alien underground, and more still in the back-and-forth between him and his crusty counterpart, played by Tommy Lee Jones. No matter how expensive films get, it's the cheapest business that matter most.

Though the awful Men in Black: International is technically a sequel to Men in Black 3, it's unlikely that many are immersed enough in the mythology to recall Emma Thompson's Agent O as the thin connective tissue between them, especially without Smith or Jones in the picture. So it's really more a stealth reboot with Tessa Thompson in the Smith role of a charismatic new recruit and Chris Hemsworth as the seasoned veteran in the Jones mold, though neither is doing an imitation. Their roles have been reimagined to where there's hardly any sharp contrasts between them — her confidence is never buffoonish, his experience is never ornery — so the best they can manage is a little light teasing and the occasional moony glance.

Yet the true thrust of Men in Black: International is suggested by its title: What if there were MIB branches around the world? That would mean that the agents are not mere American beat officers, like the Smith/Jones duo, but globe-trotting James Bond types who get whisked from London to Paris to Marrakesh, Morocco, and back again. There's nothing funny about the concept, but like a 007 thriller, there's a generous assortment of fashionable outfits, souped-up luxury vehicles and the latest in alien-zapping weaponry, all managed by those cool translucent swipe-screen computers from Minority Report. More bells and whistles.

In a reversal of the Men in Black origin story, Thompson's Agent M isn't discovered by MIB. It is the other way around, as part of a 20-year quest to find the agency that visited her home as a child. Admiring her initiative, Agent O sends her from New York to the London branch, which is immersed in intrigue surrounding a threat called The Hive. Hemsworth's Agent H and his former partner, High T (Liam Neeson), saved the world from this same alien species a couple of years before, and now their enemies have taken the form of Les Twins (Laurent and Larry Bourgeois), two shape-shifting siblings from Morocco who are on a trail of destruction. Agent H and Agent M are on the case, joined by a pocket-sized alien wiseacre named Pawny (Kumail Nanjiani), but they begin to suspect that MIB's house is not in order.

There's a lot of plotting in Men In Black: International, which makes room for a diabolical three-armed seductress (Rebecca Ferguson) and a compact weapon of planet-destroying power, but the more the story unfurls, the deeper the film sinks into quicksand. Director F. Gary Gray and his screenwriters, Art Marcum and Matt Holloway, have made the crucial mistake of believing the franchise needs complex world-building instead of streamlined comedy. Even if the events in the film made any kind of sense, they were never going to matter as much as the good time Hemsworth, Neeson and the two Thompsons are supposed to be showing us. And yet that's where the emphasis lies.

Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson are a proven commodity, having teamed up briefly in Thor: Ragnarok, perhaps the funniest of all the Marvel movies, but they are too busy hustling around to expensive set pieces to spark off each other. Though Nanjiani's super-cute alien seems like a leftover from Batteries Not Included, at least he has some room to toss around insults and witticisms, and improvise his way out of trouble. Whether the franchise can survive without Smith and Jones is an open question, but it can't live on gadgetry and spy games and an influx of Mos Eisley cantina denizens alone. There has to be chemistry, too.