The Host – Starring: Saoirse Ronan, Max
Irons, and Jake Abel. Director: Andrew Niccol
Based on the book by Stephenie Meyer, a small group of
humans is left after an alien invasion. When Melanie Stryder (Saoirse Ronan) is
captured and becomes host to an alien soul the two consciences war inside her
head. With her alien parasite, Wanda, Melanie makes her way back to the human
camp, her brother, Jamie (Chandler Canterbury), and the love of her life, Jared
Howe (Max Irons). Along with Ian (Jake Abel), Uncle Jeb (William Hurt), and the
other human survivors, they must find a way to coexist.
On a scale of one to Twilight
it was Breaking Dawn: Part 2. Though
not comparable to the Twilight
franchise as a movie and story itself, the Meyer stamp was all over the
aggressively chivalrous male leads, lovelorn gazes within the love triangle-square-thing,
the violent sexual tension, and the perfect ending we saw coming from a million
galaxies away. (If that was a spoiler, I am sorry. Also, I kinda respect you
because you obviously have not read or seen anything Twilight related, how did you do it?!) However, it felt slightly
more mature in its treatment of the characters and relationships, but only in
that this manifestation of the Meyer Psyche at least implied that the, as far as they know, last
two teens on Earth might, maybe, possibly, have had premarital sex … once.
The Melanie/Wanda voice-over was clunky and ridiculous,
especially since Ronan had a sporadic, heavy Southern accent that was stupid. And
Max Irons didn’t Jacob-strip
his shirt at any point so that was also stupid. Furthermore, in an even more
subjective opinion than the rest of this review, Jake Abel doesn’t do it for me
as a point in a love shape—triangle, square, octagon, what have you—he should
probably just stick to playing whiney-baby villains. Max Irons though, he wants me.
At any rate, it’s time for the facts. You will like this
movie if you,
- like sci-fi that’s not sci-fi, but just teen romance dressed as an alien.
- like it when hot people kiss—it’s ok with me to like it for this reason cuz, real talk: I do.
- think the desert is cool.
- think William Hurt is cool—apparently he’s in it or whatever; I was distracted by waiting for Max Irons to come back on screen and take his shirt off.
- like Stephenie Meyer’s work—you’re allowed; no judging here, except for this whole review where I judge this movie. But don’t think you’re getting away without explaining yourself.
- like it when everything works out just great—which, I agree, is nice; happy endings are awesome, nevertheless, exceptionally perfect ones are kind of annoying.
I liked it, but what should be obvious is that I will toss a
lot of things aside for the sake of looking at a beautiful man. There were flaws:
the awkward voice-over; the perfectly perfect ending; and the missing scene
where both male leads did a complete one-eighty and decided to kill instead of
save Melanie/Wanda or vice versa, respectively. There was nonsense (much like
my pervious sentence): Max Irons, never shirtless; after two viewings I’m still
not clear on how or why or what even happened to reconnect Melanie/Wanda with
the survivors. There was a car crash and then she walked on rocks through the
desert, and that is all I know. And there were more than a couple moments in
which the only possible reaction was an exasperated sigh: one of my consciences
has disappeared and so the only solution is to tell a boy to kiss me like he
“want[s] to get slapped.” Why is this the solution and who wants to get slapped?
The silver vehicles were snazzy and “time you enjoy wasting
is not time wasted” (thanks John). Nonetheless, make no mistake, you may not
necessarily be wasting anything, but you are certainly not gaining anything …
except a deep devotion to Max Irons and his penchant for kissing in the rain (which
is the best penchant I can think of).
Now, let’s crunch the numbers,
- 8/10 from my 14 year-old hopelessly romantic, hormone-addled soul.
- 4/10 from my 25 year-old critically thinking, university-educated mind.
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