Gee whiz, it's Spielberg's worst movie yet!

Rating: 1/10 (7 July 2004)

Although I've never much liked Steven Spielberg's films (*Jaws* being the sole exception), I've never confused my dislike with his ability to please a crowd. The man is undoubtedly a showman . . . I suppose my quarrel is with what he shows us. Even while despising his sentimentality, I've always grudgingly admired his sheer filmmaking competence. In other words, I would never give his movies a 1/10 rating.
Until now, until *The Terminal*. This is, without equivocation, the worst film of his career. It has absolutely nothing to recommend it. They should pay US to see it, really. First of all, the movie has to set some kind of record for relentless product-placement. You thought Hanks shilling for FedEx and Wilson Sporting Goods was tacky in *Castaway*? Wait till you see him scarf down his seventh Burger King greaseball sandwich in *The Terminal*. Wait till you watch him wander aimlessly, over and over, past Sbarro, Starbucks, Hugo Boss Outlets . . . but this is a hint to stop, because I don't want to be the pot calling the kettle black. Basically, Spielberg & the Gang at Dreamworks came up with the most brilliant "synergy" concept yet: base the story on some nut who was stranded in Charles de Gaulle Intl. Airport in France, make up a bunch of "dramatic, funny" stuff about this character, and bingo! -- you got over 2 hours of CONTINUOUS ADVERTISING. One retail outlet after another, panning slowly on the big screen. Hanks can't escape the Terminal, and neither can the targeted audience! It sometimes helps, when viewing a film, to know the reasons WHY a film gets made: please remember that DreamWorks is having a bit of financial trouble, lately. Not a LOT, but some. The TV shows never materialized; the music-unit was sold off to some other conglomerate; and, worst of all, their movies have been stinking up the box-office for the past couple of years. In fact, their last major "hit" (if we must call it that) was *Gladiator*.
Hence, *The Terminal* gets dumped on an unsuspecting public. Make no mistake, kids: Spielberg did this hack-job with the hopes of covering his own studio's backside. It is no coincidence that the only element in the film which looks as if any effort was applied is the set of the airport terminal itself. Indeed, it's an astounding set, the best of its kind ever built, and deserves an Oscar . . . but remember the set's main function: to hawk Starbucks and the like. And since this is the movie's main function (with the "entertainment" part hopefully taking care of itself under the auspices of popular showmen like Spielberg and Hanks), it should really come as no surpise that the airport-set is awesome. There's money to be made, and burgers to be sold.
As for the other aspects of the movie -- you know, the stuff we usually talk about, like the direction, photography, acting, story, and so on -- only the most pedestrian efforts are exerted from the principals (Spielberg, Hanks, Zeta-Jones). In the direction category, you would never guess that Spielberg was behind the wheel. The story has terrible pace, the camera-work is nondescript (except when panning slowly across yet another advertiser's logo), and the script is devoid of the "magical moments" the director has occasionally pulled off in his other films. In the acting category, Stanley Tucci tries his damnedest to give an honest performance as the head of security at the terminal, but the script betrays him by making his character, for no clear reason, more villainous as the movie wears on. Tucci's hung out to dry, mouthing dialogue. As for Hanks and Zeta-Jones: watching them here only made me consider how much I enjoyed them in separate films by the Coen Brothers (*Intolerable Cruelty* for Z-J; *The Ladykillers* for Hanks). I ended up wishing that I was watching either one of those films again, which, not surprisingly, were directed by artists instead of a huckster.