A-maze-ingly tedious

Rating: 3/10 (11 November 2014)

Remember Vincenzo Natali's 1997 film, Cube? Bold. Mysterious. Smartly written. Knowingly silly. Imperfect but unique. Well, The Maze Runner is nothing like that, except for the imperfections. Remember, also, M Night Shyamalan's last (almost) great movie, The Village? Something of that film's central conceit is at work here – albeit emptied of any intelligence or detectable allegory or any semblance of a distinctive style.
Teen Wolf's Dylan O'Brien stars as Thomas, who wakes up just as he's being deposited in an enormous prison called the Glade. He can remember nothing of his former life. Nor can the other young male denizens of the Glade, who've been ritually plonked there on a monthly basis, and have been mapping the surrounding maze ever since. Problem is, the maze keeps shifting shape, and after dark it is occupied by menacing Grievers: arachnid guardians made of guts and steel. Thomas wants to find a way to freedom, but Gally (Will Poulter) reckons they should stay put, where it's safe. Shouting ensues, while the Gladers ask endless, unanswered questions about what the Glade is, what the maze is, what the Grievers are, when the film's going to end This is the worst kind of mystery setup. A Lost-esque cloak envelopes everyone and everything, giving all the power to the filmmakers and leaving none of the fun to us. In a TV show this would hold us to the next ad break. Here, it's meant to hold our attention into the next movie (already announced), despite the fact that the first instalment barely crawls to 113 minutes. The whole concept just doesn't hold water. At least The Hunger Games has a flamboyance of design to distract us from its barely credible dystopia. But The Maze Runner is way too serious for that. Spoiler alert (although is it a spoiler when it's this predictable?): We're told that the kids are being put through some sort of Darwinian test to establish their suitability in a post-apocalyptic world. The conspiratorial nature of this boring beast means we can't take this explanation at face-value. But then, I've nothing else to go on, and I'm certainly not compelled to read the books – so let's go with what we've got, which is eye-narrowingly contrived nonsense.
The script is deathly dull. It starts with a cavalcade of exposition, setting up the rules etc, and descends into mindless arguing, without ever daring to explore, say, the sexual politics of having a girl thrown into this hyper-masculine teenage mix. The amnesia thing is the oldest cheat in the screen writing book, and causes a crippling lack of character. Our hero is running on some kind of instinct but he's still basically a Nice Young Man. No moral grey areas here. The dearth of character is consistent with the video game level of narrative: Choose your player based solely on appearance (also the casting process here, it seems).
Another homogenous hero, then. And sub-par performances abound. The only player to really engage is Game of Thrones' Thomas Brodie-Sangster as Newt; the only character to imply any kind of internal conflict. I concede that Will Poulter puts in solid work, too. But generally the cast is directed with bland efficiency. The action scenes are all bluster and no invention and the CGI is as weightless as it comes. Who said Hollywood was a world of talented hacks? I'm not sure, but I'm saying it now. It's a pity because John Paesano's score evokes John Williams – he deserved Spielberg for his work.
The film drills standard YA anxieties about identity, victimhood, and entitlement; about not being 'special' (or divergent or whatever) and slipping anonymously into the crowd. Worst of all, there's absolutely no chance of getting any phone signal in the Glade. The horror! Against the classy Orwellian operatics of The Hunger Games, here's a wannabe without substance, style, or, ironically, identity.