Ghost Rider

A steaming turd on the side of the highway of cinema, this film is a travesty. Seriously, what happened? Mark Steven Johnson wrote and directed Daredevil, a film with more than its fair share of problems, both on screen and behind the scenes, but still, it was a good fun with some really well-handled moments and at least two action sequences that really worked. Nicholas Cage loves the Marvel Comics’ Ghost Rider series, so much so that he has a tattoo of the flaming skull on his arm. Johnson is a motorcycle nut. And this is a film about a dude who at night transforms into a flaming skeleton riding a hellishly cool chopper and beating up the bad guys. So why is the result such utterly insipid, uninspired crap?

There’s no answer to that question. It’s a koan that would keep Thich Nhat Han up all night for years.

The problem is easy to identify: The film has no soul, no inspiration, no character, and no originality. Ironic in some ways, considering it’s the story of a man who sells his soul to Satan. But it’s seriously disturbing to witness a film where there is barely a shot that evokes any kind of emotion or even draws the viewer in. There isn’t a single composition in the entire film displaying any kind of inspiration. Not one moment where you pause to go “Hey, that was a cool shot” or “This makes me feel for them, somehow”. There are moments that are near misses, and that’s worse, because they could have been good, but aren’t.

Then there’s the exploration of fear. Well, actually, there’s no exploration of fear. There’s just Nicholas Cage staring into a mirror and saying “You can’t be afraid” every now and again. Unfortunately he doesn’t look afraid, haunted, or anything much at all. He doesn’t look unafraid either, no bravery. He just looks like he’s done two lines of coke and followed it up a major hit from his bong. Sleepwalkers display more engagement in material than this. I can only imagine that after so many years trying to get a role as a superhero the reality of this miscarriage of a film sank in. The bitter taste of the ashes in his mouth are probably the only thing making his face move.

And so we get to the Ghost Rider. A CG creation, a skeleton with a flaming skull. Cool really, and he looks pretty okay. It’s fun watching him ride his flaming chopper up buildings and over water, etc. But once he gets off the bike the action is entirely lacking, it makes Spawn look like a work of genius. And I thought that was the absolute low point of superhero cinema. (Even that godawful Captain America telemovie was better.) Ghost Rider’s great power, the “Penance Stare” is a cool idea. Stare into the flaming sockets of the Ghost Rider’s eyes and see and feel all the pain your sins caused. Surely a chance for some amazing visuals. Bosch meets Bacon, or something like that. Nope, more uninspired tripe with bad CG flames over some pretty mediocre acting. Television shows have more inventive stuff than this going on.

I should talk about the other characters. Wes Bentley has moved from being the creepy kid in American Beauty to the milquetoast villain, Blackheart, here. He must have hit some bad times. An actor with enough sense to walk out on Queen Of The Damned because the script sucked, contract violation notwithstanding, yet he’s in this abortion. Sam Elliot and Peter Fonda are cool though, they elevate their scenes if only because their mere presence adds gravitas. But it can’t save a film in which they’re incidental characters. As the film was shot making extensive use of Melbourne locations it was fun to trainspot the sights, but that was about the only thing that occupied my mind here.

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