Wrath of the Titans

Bill Gibron is a veteran film critic from Tampa, Florida.

Wrath of the Titans is the worst kind of creative hodgepodge. It's all ramped up action and CGI and very little mythology or meaning. Cherry-picking through the ancient fables for footnotes to free associate off of, this unwarranted sequel to the remake no one demanded drains all the life out of its already whisper-thin characters to provide a jumping off point for otherwise stunning set-pieces. Want to see Zeus (Liam Neeson) battle his brother Hades (Ralph Fiennes) in a lava-drenched underworld? No problem. Need to see the hero Perseus (Sam Worthington) maneuver through a complex maze where clockwork walls and floors interconnect with F/X precision? You got it. Want to feel anything or care about what's going on?  Well...

It's been ten years since the Kraken was defeated and Perseus has been trying to avoid his famous reputation by living as a humble fisherman. A widower, he is raising his son Helius (John Bell) to ignore the gods and avoid the sword. Meanwhile, the battle rages on for control of the ethereal world. Hades makes a pact with Aries (Edgar Ramirez) to capture Zeus and use the last remaining vestiges of his powers to resurrect their father Kronos, King of the Titans. Trapped in Tartarus, a vast underground prison, the evil entity plans on literally bringing Hell to Earth. Forming an alliance between Poseidon's (Danny Huston) son Agenor (Toby Kebbell) and Queen Andromeda (Rosamund Pike), Perseus vows to rescue Zeus and stop Hades once and for all.

Like an epic poem gone rancid, Wrath of the Titans is all flash and no substance. It creates a clunky, clothesline narrative with a wholly simplistic goal and then hangs a bunch of inventive if rather superficial action elements onto it. Director Jonathan Liebesman has been down this creative path before, using the intriguing premise for Battle: Los Angeles and turning it into an awkward quest with some inspired scenes tossed into the mix. There's no background or depth. Perseus is shown trying to maintain a low profile, and then before you know it, a two-headed fire breathing dog shows up to destroy his village. From there, it's visits from the Gods, a scrape with a Cyclops clan, and a random appearance by Bill Nighy (as the weapons master to Olympus).

You can see just how unnecessary it all is by the looks on everyone's face. Worthington, now juggling more than a few franchises, clearly has little faith in this material. He sleepwalks through his bloodied and battered iconography. Similarly, Neeson and Fiennes are so busy maintaining the bottom line of their bank balance sheet that they forget to act. Kebbell, usually a spirited performer, is laden with lousy jokes that few will find funny. Pike looks pretty, but is given very little to do. Only Ramirez tries to rally any support out of the situation, imagining his mandatory villain's role as something akin to Shakespeare. Of course, since Liebesman is preoccupied with all the visual sturm and drang, the attempted dramatics disintegrate.

In truth, Wrath of the Titans is the emptiest of eye candies. It may provide some slight satisfaction, but the overall experience is vacant and derivative. By the time the conjoined demons descend on Andromeda's troops, their whirly-gig attack style resembling a blur with blades, we want either a payoff or a point. In response, the storyline merely substitutes more sword and sorcery leftovers before repeating the previous finale and then quietly walking away.  If all you want is empty calories, Wrath of the Titans is perfect cinematic fast food. It will fill you up without leaving a lasting impression.

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