Robert Langdon returns to save the world from a sinister airborne pathogen in this continuation of Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code franchise. Oddly, despite three jumbo-sized films and a whole mess of fluffy promotion, the series has yet to settle on a definitive identity for itself. Where I felt there was a whiff of something worth pursuing in the first film - a middle-aged professor, cracking dusty cryptographs against the backdrop of ancient history - subsequent films have steadily minimized that in favor of beefier, more generic reaches.
In Inferno's case, Langdon has been plopped into the aftermath of a personality cult and blessed with a case of amnesia. It feels like a mismatch from the start, like Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock taking the spotlight in the latest Bourne adventure, and never settles into much of a rhythm. The constant wheel-jerks and "shock and awe" plot twists of the earlier chapters haven't gone anywhere, of course, and they're still far too numerous for their own good. Such drastic shifts lose all meaning if they occur at five-minute intervals. Costars Tom Hanks and Felicity Jones have a certain entrancing dynamic, a central relationship which is robbed of its defining moment by the abundance of such plot acrobatics.
The shame of it is, Inferno actually has a few clever ideas. Tragically, they're almost completely washed away by hopeless over-complication and desperate mood swings.
Review by drqshadowBlockedParent2020-01-30T19:37:14Z
Robert Langdon returns to save the world from a sinister airborne pathogen in this continuation of Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code franchise. Oddly, despite three jumbo-sized films and a whole mess of fluffy promotion, the series has yet to settle on a definitive identity for itself. Where I felt there was a whiff of something worth pursuing in the first film - a middle-aged professor, cracking dusty cryptographs against the backdrop of ancient history - subsequent films have steadily minimized that in favor of beefier, more generic reaches.
In Inferno's case, Langdon has been plopped into the aftermath of a personality cult and blessed with a case of amnesia. It feels like a mismatch from the start, like Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock taking the spotlight in the latest Bourne adventure, and never settles into much of a rhythm. The constant wheel-jerks and "shock and awe" plot twists of the earlier chapters haven't gone anywhere, of course, and they're still far too numerous for their own good. Such drastic shifts lose all meaning if they occur at five-minute intervals. Costars Tom Hanks and Felicity Jones have a certain entrancing dynamic, a central relationship which is robbed of its defining moment by the abundance of such plot acrobatics.
The shame of it is, Inferno actually has a few clever ideas. Tragically, they're almost completely washed away by hopeless over-complication and desperate mood swings.