‘Martian Child’ deserves to be grounded
By Craig Marks
Hollywood’s screenwriters, whose contract was set to expire Oct. 31, may have gone on strike by the time this review appears. If it happens, some movies and TV shows will be made with rough, unpolished scripts, resulting in lousy productions.
“Martian Child,” opening this weekend, doesn’t have that excuse, but there must be some reason why talented people made such a sloppy and dreary movie.
John Cusack plays David Gordon, a widowed science-fiction writer who, we are told, is the J.K. Rowling of sci-fi. Before his wife’s death, they had planned to adopt a child, and he wishes to carry through with the plan. A social worker selects for David a little boy named Dennis (Bobby Coleman), whose 1970s hairstyle is not as curious as his belief that his parents were from the Red Planet.
The ever-deadpan Dennis spends most of his time in a cardboard box, fearful of what sunlight would do to his sensitive Martian skin. When not in the box, he covers his face with cakes of sunscreen and carries an umbrella, which makes him look like a junior Michael Jackson impersonator. He wears a belt weighted down with batteries to keep from flying upward.
David also was off-center as a child, so he goes above and beyond in his attempt to bond with Dennis. When Dennis says he’ll only eat Lucky Charms, David takes home a shopping cart’s worth. When Dennis accidentally breaks an item on David’s desk, David tells him that their love is stronger than material possessions. He proves his point by letting Dennis break dozens of dinner plates (what says “I’ll love you forever” better than flying shards of plastic?).
The movie plays coy with whether Dennis actually has alien roots. At a minor league ballgame, Dennis casually tells David he just used his powers to cause a player to hit a home run (perhaps secretly injecting him with MGH, Martian Growth Hormones). He later performs a neat trick with M&M’s that’s immediately forgotten.
This is the kind of film that either tugs at your heart or doesn’t. For me, it didn’t, despite it trying valiantly and having all the ingredients to open the tear ducts. There are too many head-scratching moments that take you right out of the movie. Some are minor, such as the fan in the stands of the minor-league ballgame whose face is painted as if it were Game 7 of the World Series. Others, like the plate-flinging scene, make you wonder what planet the screenwriters are from.
The cast includes many familiar faces, all of whom deserve our sympathy. Amanda Peet, playing the sister of David’s late wife, is asked to break the world’s record for longest-held smile. Joan Cusack, John’s sister, seems on cruise control playing another harried housewife. I felt most sorry for Angelica Huston, whose short cameo as a weepy publishing magnate borders on embarrassing.
John Cusack, whose film choices
are varied and daring, may have seen this movie as a
chance to reconnect with
family audiences. At one point, his character tells
Dennis that, in baseball, success is getting a hit three
out of 10 times. Cusack’s movie average is much
better than that, but this one is a swing and a miss.
The film, which opens Nov. 2,
is rated PG for thematic elements and mild language.
*-1/2 (out of four)
Craig Marks is a cartoonist and
editorial, sports and entertainment writer for the West
Side Leader.
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