Stunning CGI and compelling allegory makes Dawn of the Planet of the Apes a solid instalment.
Unlike a lot of summer blockbusters, there isn’t much fun in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. The film opens with a map sequence showing the spread of the Simian virus, it is a worryingly plausible and perhaps even prescient prelude to the film’s nihilistic 130 minutes.
Based in San Francisco, a group of virus resistant humans stumble upon the apes in a forest whilst locating a dam that’s vital for the city’s power supply. Carver (Kirk Acevedo), a trigger happy human, wounds an ape upon the surprise encounter, setting relations off to a uneasy start. Caeser (Andy Serkis), leader of the apes, eventually allows the humans to work on the dam on the strict condition that they surrender their weapons.
This collaboration makes Koba (Toby Kebbell) rather apprehensive. Koba, a bonobo, has suffered at the hands of humans, developing an intense hatred for them. While Caesar is wary of humans and acts very much in the interest of his fellows apes, he recognises the humans’ capacity for good, something that frustrates and disillusions Koba to the point of rebellion.
Immediately the film impresses with its motion capture, seldom am I compelled by CGI characters like I was by Caeser, Koba and the scores of other primates. The range of chimps, gorillas, orangutans and bonobos are effortlessly brought to life through superlative animation and great physical performances.
The Homo sapiens of the film are, on the other hand, somewhat unremarkable and one dimensional – they’re all disposable save for a few. However, both the humans and apes have members whose existence are purely narrative function, they each serve identical purposes, it’s a rather simple construct. Caeser, the hyper-intelligent Chimpanzee who is stern but fair with his colony and the humans he encounters, has a clear equivalent in Malcolm (Jason Clarke), the human leader who also favours peace and cooperation.
These two leaders are beacons of appeasement and democracy, however both sides are jeopardised by bigoted brutes. The aforementioned Carver and Koba assume these roles, both have a tendency for violence and prediliction for martial law, however Koba has a much more sinister influence in the colony. Gary Oldman’s character Dreyfus, a senior member of the humans, is also a counterpart of Koba’s, however I found Carver to be more zealous in his contempt.
There is a slight narrative sag about half way through the film, however this break in momentum is swiftly fixed when the embittered, war-mongering Koba orchestrates a full scale conflict with the humans. The film then becomes an interesting allegory for war, racism and genocide. With scenes of humans being herded into cages and brutal punishment for dissent amongst the ranks, clear correlations can be made between Koba’s colony and Adolf Hitler’s Third Reich, Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge, Stalin’s USSR and the slew of other hideous regimes of history.
Generally, the film is to be commended for its anthropomorphic balance. I liked how for the majority of the time the apes communicated using sign language as opposed to just English. Speaking English is biologically impossible for apes, however I’m willing to believe that this isn’t necessarily true in the film’s universe. What I’m not willing to believe is that Chimpanzees can shed tears, they can’t, it is a human function that’s unique among primates. Also, there are instances in which the apes, chiefly Caesar, bear facial expressions or engage in conversations that are just too human. Thankfully, the anthropomorphism is seldom sentimental.
Although character development is familiar and predictable, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is ultimately a spectacle packed nihilistic summer blockbuster about instinct, hierarchy, politics, racism and war.