Tomorrowland is built on an admirable message, and very little else. The new film from director and co-writer Brad Bird is often beautiful to look at, with a capable ensemble of actors, and is constantly throwing curveballs at its characters which buoys the excitement throughout. Yet it barely makes sense on a scene-by-scene basis, let alone as an entire feature. Tomorrowland feels less like a full feature film, and more like a two-hour first act or a very long presentation designed to convince people to stay positive about the world.
At the core, Bird and co-writer Damon Lindelof are asking a simple question: Why have we become less optimistic about the potential of our future? Why have we begun to embrace a post-apocalyptic future instead of treating it as a worst-case scenario? These questions—and the resulting suggestions to once again dream and create the impossible—are less of a foundation for character development and more of a direct plea to us. The film even opens with George Clooney, as grizzled inventor Frank Walker, addressing the camera. A climactic speech from the antagonist is less a case of, as one of Bird’s animated characters would say, “monologuing” than an outright critique of modern society with which Bird himself aligns.
A debate over this film’s message is more compelling than its plot, which involves Frank teaming up with a teenage optimist named Casey (Britt Robertson) to head to an alternate dimension known as Tomorrowland, a place where anything’s possible, before it’s too late to save our world. The stakes are hinted at for far longer than necessary—we keep seeing images of a countdown clock, but the details of why our world is in danger always seem nebulous, even to audience surrogate Casey. It’s here that Lindelof’s presence is felt most keenly—Casey, especially in the first half, is constantly asking questions of Frank or the enigmatic little girl Athena (Raffey Cassidy), both of whom clearly know a great deal about Tomorrowland and its history. Of course, neither Frank nor Athena is terribly forthcoming, which doesn’t solve the issue that this film raises many questions it never comes close to answering. Characters echoing audience queries is fine, but if they never find out the answer, why even ask?
Perhaps it’s to the credit of Tomorrowland that its lack of answers is frustrating—at least that means the questions are compelling and worth asking. And Bird solidly manufactures tension in each setpiece, from a funny attack in a pop-culture memorabilia shop to a scene where robots try to kill Frank in his booby-trap-laden house. Granted, nothing here comes close to the Burj Khalifa setpiece in his Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, but this film’s aims are less visceral. (And, let’s be honest, what could top that scene?) As director, Bird continues to prove his skill isn’t handcuffed to the medium of animation.
The actors he’s working with do an able job, in spite of a script that vacillates between being preachy, vague, and a little creepy. For example, though he may not be the go-to choice for a gruff old man, Clooney’s quite good as a cynic who wants to get back his belief in the impossible. Unfortunately, part of his character arc involves his secret past with Athena—he first meets her in 1964, when he’s 11 years old—as well as his decades-past crush on the girl. There are many things you expect to see from a Disney movie, but George Clooney reconciling romantic feelings for someone who may or may not be a preteen human girl is not one of them. Robertson is sufficiently hopeful and inquisitive, and her frustration at being stonewalled is awfully similar to what it’s like sitting in the audience, too. And Hugh Laurie, as a—yes, you guessed it—mysterious figure tied to Tomorrowland is quite good and enjoyably acidic in his few scenes.
So many of the disparate elements of Tomorrowland work that it’s kind of heartbreaking to see it saddled with an inconsistent script. The effects work is almost entirely successful—a few moments involving a jet pack are a bit more cartoonish than desired, but that’s it. Compared with Avengers: Age of Ultron, this film handles its visual element expertly. (With folks like cinematographer Claudio Miranda and editor Walter Murch behind the scenes, it damn well better.) But it stumbles in balancing an important message with a well-crafted story. There’s nothing wrong with wanting people to look to the future with hope, not apathy, nor is there anything wrong with making a movie to tell us as much. Tomorrowland, unfortunately, is too focused on its message to be entertaining at the same time.
