'The Relic' brings suspension of disbelief to new heights

By Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan

JAKARTA (JP): If you think The Relic's voodoo-ish opening looks like a scene out of Hellraiser, you are not far off the mark. The Relic is a horror movie of sorts -- albeit one that combines sci-fi and action thriller -- which is typically thin on plot and dialogue, big on suspense and special effects and relies on a heavy dose of "suspension of disbelief". Been there, seen it before.

Yet the movie's US$10 million opening weekend gross in the U.S. shows that injecting new life into this visceral genre is not as important as doing it "right". And "right" here denotes louder, bloodier, and at a faster pace. Thus, to criticize it on what is ostensibly its premise would serve no purpose, for its aim is purely to entertain and bring the dollars in.

The Relic is certainly interesting in that it buttresses several prevailing Hollywood notions. Firstly, blood sells. Especially the kind that feeds off the tremendous primal appeal of the battle between human and non-human. Think Alien, The Terminator, The Predator.

Secondly, sci-fi sells. That includes pseudo-scientific gobbledygook that results from marrying H.G. Wells and Michael Crichton in which you have your typical "DNA gone haywire" story line that ends up with gruesome mutants running around ripping people's heads off. The Island of Dr. Moreau may be the critics' worst nightmare, but people flock to see growling furballs senselessly devour each other.

Thirdly, myth sells. In the sense that it is very New Age to talk about a fictitious ancient belief borrowed from some primordial civilization and the power it has over modern day atheists. Fourthly, if a movie has all the above elements, it doesn't need big stars to carry it off. Mega-grossers Independence Day and Twister have shown the way.

The Relic, the latest offering from pulp-movie veteran Peter Hyams (Outland, 2010), embodies all the above, and then some. It sports even more blood and more false-alarm shocks than any gore-slinging slasher flick of yesteryear.

What's more, it practically redefines the cliched term "packs up a wallop". For The Relic stuffs itself with nearly all sub- plots known to mankind -- the powerful vs the powerless, science vs superstition, gene splicing, racism, a stuffy mayor, an astringent female coroner who pays homage to crime novelist Patricia Cornwell's heroine Dr. Kay Scarpetta, and a ditsy heroine with a Sigourney Weaver/Linda Hamilton/Geena Davis oomph -- that it is quite incredible how it can still manage to be about ... what it is.

And wait ... there is a bonus: Tom Sizemore's cop is superstitious ("Don't step over a corpse. It's bad luck!", he barks at his wide-eyed, perpetually frazzled subordinate) and is about as believable as Steven Seagal in his New Age garb in Glimmer Man. What's more, he constantly wails about losing custody of his dog. Well, good news for Tom: according to the tabloids, the Nanny's Fran Drescher recently reconciled with her estranged husband because she couldn't bear parting from their cute munchkin of a dog.

Alien in a museum

A mysterious Brazilian cargo bearing a mythological artifact and some fungus-infested leaves makes its way to the Chicago Natural History Museum. Several stock types emerge: the ballsy evolutionary biologist Margo Green (Penelope Ann Miller, Carlito's Way); Margo's invidious colleague, Greg Lee (Chi Moui Lo); the no-nonsense museum director Dr. Ann Cuthbert (diminutive Linda Hunt, The Year of Living Dangerously) and the ageing invalid scientist Dr. Frock (James Whitmore, The Shawshank Redemption).

After the obligatory character exposition, which means going over everyone's quirks in one scene, a few grisly beheadings in the museum suggest a brutal killer is on the loose. Enter George Clooney look-alike cop Vincent D'Agosta (Tom Sizemore, Heat). Why, he even attempts a Clooney-Pfeiffer "battle of the sexes" thing with the pretty Margo but fails.

Anyway, it is soon revealed that a part man, part reptile with a hankering for the human hypothalamus is lurking in the museum's basement. This, mind you, is darker and meaner than the New York subway system, so that should explain why it can be so elusive.

Conveniently, D'Agosta can't prevent all the politicos, go- getters, and blue bloods from attending the grand, fund-raising opening of the -- whey-hey, what do you know? -- ancient superstition section of the museum. So it's dinner time for our monster villain, and yes, don't forget to count the bodies. Echoes of Jaws there somewhere?

Nonsense

For all it lacks, The Relic is a most enjoyable piece of nonsense. After all, one doesn't watch monster movies and expect scenes of Laura Ashley, rose-hued garden parties or a band of grinning teens singing chirpy, Beatles-like tunes. Our Generation X is weaned on gratuity anyway, and as long as it is confined to the big screen, there is no sin in showing a man split in half below the waist. It's a discomfiting truth, but Hollywood has lived and prospered on it.

Although the intended moral lesson seems to be "have respect for ancient cultures", it is quickly lost on audiences the minute the cat-and-mouse game begins. There are no penalties for shallowness, either, for Peter Hyams knows exactly what the audience wants and gives it to them. Much of where the action takes place - the basement, the museum at night - plays up like horror stock formula and benefits greatly from his insistence on natural lighting. So expect no Spielberg-esque glorious vistas of wilderness. Instead, this is a high-tech Scream with incredible, non-stop tension.

Stan Winston, the make-up effects genius behind Alien and Jurassic Park, goes all out in creating the huge, breathy, slimy, lizardish creature that makes the Jurassic dinos look positively tame.

As a critic once said, "it takes conviction to sell science fiction", and this one has oodles of it. The screaming and clapping audience, after all, reserves the last say.