Robert Zemeckis, in the worst tradition of Steven Spielberg, has made an easily forgettable Christmas movie that brings out the vapid nature in us all. This story is so old and so poorly told that the filmmakers obviously, though not to them, no doubt, were doing it by rote. Zemeckis, who has brought us truly brilliant fare like Back to the Future and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? must have had his brain cells on ice during the Polar Express scripting. I call he and John Williams the jaded enchanters because the film has no soul. It's a formulaic film of 'family magic' and inspiring people to 'believe' who have been at the top of their game (and pocketbooks) for so long that they've lost any touch with the reality that is experienced by actual human beings who live in the real world. The whole feeling of the story is artificial, the characters that are supposed to represent the poor and/or the disenchanted have no ring of truth to them. Again, the sense I have is that these believers have been either too far removed from reality for too long - or, more likely (since I'm sure they are well meaning), they have begun to trust their movie instincts too easily because those close to them aren't going to point out that the emperor is naked.
I mention John Williams, incidentally, because he seems to have phoned in the score - his dreadful overuse of crescendos that have been borrowed endlessly from his own work manages to make nothing seem special and of crescendo importance until the crescendo that brings up the credits of those who are guilty of kidnapping our minds and dragging us through this experience.
I mention John Williams, incidentally, because he seems to have phoned in the score - his dreadful overuse of crescendos that have been borrowed endlessly from his own work manages to make nothing seem special and of crescendo importance until the crescendo that brings up the credits of those who are guilty of kidnapping our minds and dragging us through this experience.