In “Surrogates,” Bruce Willis plays a detective who, like almost every other character in the film, lives in isolation and interacts with the outside world through an idealized robotic version of himself. In essence, it’s the “Second Life” movie nobody asked for or wanted. Even still, it is an interesting premise, but it’s a premise the filmmakers never fully take advantage of. Why, for example, does the idealized version of Willis look as if he got into Mommy’s rouge and sports a comb-over that looks like it was forcefully removed from the scalp of an aging albino? I might be the idiot here, but I’m pretty sure that idealized doesn’t mean “to look like an embalmed, balding Muppet.” Yet Willis’ off-putting hairstyle is only part of a larger problem that infects this movie like an unimaginative plague.
During the exposition-heavy prologue, we learn about the history of the surrogates (or surreys, as they’re affectionately dubbed). Originally devised as an aide for the handicapped, the surrogates quickly caught on with the general populace when it was revealed that their existence enabled everyone to live out the American Dream (i.e. sitting immobile in a darkened room with a Cheetos stain etched indelibly around your mouth as someone else does your work for you).
For the past decade or so, the surrogates have somehow eliminated all traces of racism and sexism but, surprisingly, not violent crime. Recently a hooded biker has been using a mysterious device to kill human operators through their surrogates. An unnervingly waxy surrey (Willis) must use his unique abilities (staring blankly and smirking) to solve these crimes. Unfortunately, when the Willis-tron runs afoul of a very Whoopi Goldberg-esque Ving Rhames and his band of anti-surrogate terrorists, Willis is forced to discard his robotic shell and venture into the real world for the first time in several years.
Like every film that’s released during September, “Surrogates” functions less as an actual movie and more like a 90-minute placeholder, a faintly film-like experience that will possibly tide you over until an actual movie comes along next month. And that’s a shame, because hidden deep within “Surrogates” lurks a potentially entertaining movie. Instead of being a vaguely futuristic police procedural (at one point loose cannon Willis is forced to turn in his badge, his gun and his robot, seriously), the filmmakers should have instead focused on this strange new world and the characters that inhabit it. Occasionally the film will throw you a bone and give you an all-too-brief peek into this alternate universe (such as the advertisement for their ultra-violent version of football or a trip to a surrogate spa which looks more like a candy-colored factory), but then it’s back to more footage of Willis looking as if he just swallowed a bottle of Tylenol PM.
I also loathed the fact that the film is so self-serious that it never bothers to have fun with its premise. Being that surrogates are just life-size, three-dimensional avatars, wouldn’t most of their operators be just a little more creative when designing their surreys? Why settle for a younger, slightly prettier version of yourself when you could be late funnyman John Candy? Don’t like “Uncle Buck?” Well, how about a werewolf version of Robocop? Or a slightly taller Yasmine Bleeth with a staple gun for a left hand? How about some kind of shitty horse or whatever? The point is, the possibilities are endless. And if the filmmakers recognized the American public’s need for lupine Robocops and shitty horses, “Surrogates” wouldn’t be such a laughingstock at the box office right now.
Rating: W
