The Terminal Review
by Jon Popick (jpopick AT sick-boy DOT com)June 21st, 2004
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The Terminal is Steven Spielberg's most Spielberg-y film in years, a fact made even more glaring due to his last handful of pictures being much darker than the fare we would usually associate with America's Director. The Terminal's third act is light, fluffy and saccharine enough to be mistaken for something made by a filmmaking novice who was reading Hollywood Schmaltz For Dummies while they shot. It's an unfortunate finale for what would have otherwise been a pretty enjoyable movie.
Spielberg once again taps Tom Hanks (The Ladykillers) as his leading man - a down-to-earth citizen of one of those weird Russian offshoot countries who arrives at the international terminal of New York's JFK airport only to learn some disturbing news once he hits American customs. Turns out there was a coup in the fictional Krakozhia while Viktor Navorski was in the air over the Atlantic, and now, technically, his country doesn't exist. Viktor can't be allowed into the United States because he holds a passport for what is now a non-existent nation, and he can't fly back home because all flights to Krakozhia have been grounded until a new government is established.
A smarmy customs agent named Frank Dixon (Stanley Tucci, The Core) informs Viktor that "America is closed" but shows him the doors that would lead him to freedom in hopes the refugee will bolt and, therefore, be subject to arrest for customs violation. This would remove the unclassifiable Viktor from Frank's airport and make him somebody else's responsibility. But Viktor doesn't leave. He holes up in an abandoned gate at JFK's international terminal and waits for the situation to right itself (apparently unaware how bureaucracy works).
What follows - think the anti-Catch Me If You Can, but also something rather similar to Hanks' Cast Away - should be familiar to anyone who has spent a night stranded at an airport. Viktor bathes in the sink and tries to sleep on those airport chairs, which seem to have been purposely created so people can't sleep in them. He teaches himself English and finds unique ways to earn money. Basically, Viktor does well acclimating himself to an unusual situation that would get the better of most people. Think about it: If you were forced to rely on the kindness of passengers at JFK, you'd probably be naked, smeared in your own feces, standing in a trashcan and screaming at the top of your lungs about The Pipe Cleaner Conspiracy within a couple of days.
Viktor also interacts with several other airport regulars, including a suspicious, vindictive janitor (Wes Anderson regular Kumar Pallana), a baggage handler who uses unclaimed items as the pot for his weekly poker games (Che McBride, Boston Public), and a lovelorn food service worker who makes Viktor his unlikely Cyrano (Diego Luna, Dirty Dancing 2). A potential love interest is dropped into the story after the other characters are already established - a move that makes Catherine Zeta-Jones (Intolerable Cruelty) and her Amelia clunky, unlikable and rather unnecessary. She plays a flight attendant having an affair with a married man but finds herself drawn to Viktor despite her inability to settle down with one person.
The Terminal - based on a real-life story involving an Iranian immigrant who made Paris's Charles De Gaulle a permanent home after a somewhat similar political clusterfuck - was created from the fertile mind of Andrew Niccol, who is one of the most creative writers out there this side of Charlie Kaufman. Niccol penned Gattaca, The Truman Show and the over-directed S1m0ne, and there's definitely a Truman-esque aspect to the parts of The Terminal where Dixon and his employees anxiously watch Viktor on a large bank of television monitors as they assume they can control his reaction to certain situations. Unfortunately, Niccol's concept was turned over to a pair of screenwriters (Sacha Gervasi and Jeff Nathanson) who have turned out "hits" like Rush Hour 2, The Big Tease, and Speed 2: Cruise Control, and that's something that likely has a lot to do with this picture's inconsistencies and disastrously long finale.
Loaded with product placement, The Terminal might have played even worse were it not for Spielberg's usual crew of top-notch talent behind the camera, as well as the very strong performance from Hanks, who is nearly as effective here as he was in Cast Away. Yeah, the accent is a little Moscow on the Hudson-ish, but this is a deceptively physical role for Hanks; his character speaks little English, so there's a lot of acting with his eyes and posture. Zeta-Jones, on the other hand, is a train wreck, thus embarking upon what appears to be another awful post-Best Supporting Oscar career. Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski keep things fuzzy and overexposed, which is kind of how I remember things looking when I spent the night at LaGuardia a few years ago. And I could have done without knowing what was in Viktor's peanut can, but that's just me. It would have made for a good maguffin and left me with a less sappy taste in my mouth.
2:03 - PG-13 for brief language and drug references
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