RoboCop

1987’s surprise hit RoboCop is the worst kind of film to remake because there is no way to improve on a picture that succeeded so far beyond its modest, almost dismissible, B-movie intentions. The original film represents a high point in popular sci-fi action cinema. It flawlessly encapsulates the prevailing mood, styles, concerns, and zeitgeist of its time and continues to resonate with contemporary viewers. The hysterical yet prescient picture of dystopian urban life, created by former Universal Pictures studio executive turned screenwriter Edward Neumeier, entertainingly summarized nearly every major fear of American society in the mid-1980s. The story centered on a good cop named Murphy who gets brutally murdered by a criminal gang and then resurrected as a cyborg prototype for a new kind of centrally controlled policing. Murphy/RoboCop is callously used as a pawn in the internal power struggles of Omni Consumer Products, a mega-corporation that seized control over the underfunded police force. Neumeier’s and co-writer Michael Miner’s clever screenplay addressed the dangers of corporate authoritarianism, corruption, and privatization in cities and government institutions, while simultaneously illustrating the downside of gentrification; the growing disparity in wealth, class, and social status; the power of the media to distract and disseminate disinformation; the loss of individual identity in an increasingly homogenous society; and the overall destructive force of unbridled capitalism.

The plot and themes enabled Dutch director Paul Verhoeven (Soldier of Orange, The Fourth Man), in his first English language film, the grandest and most sublime indulgence in his personal obsessions of extreme violence, political satire, sophomoric sexuality, left-wing neo-fascism, and Passion of the Christ imagery and metaphor. The film’s quasi-superhero/buddy-cop milieu fostered an unprecedented combination of biting, darkly comedic commentary on the type of glorified, over-the-top, sadistic action that typified movies of the period, while simultaneously being one of the most exhilarating and impressive examples of such a film. Critics and audiences of every stripe could not help but respond positively to the picture, even if it contained material that would normally offend them.

The original movie was made at a small studio with a minuscule budget (for a sci-fi action film) at a time when a title like RoboCop was a tough sell to mass audiences. With limited funds and without the benefit of CGI or modern developments in prosthetic physical effects, the achievement of putting the title character on screen in a way that seemed heroic, rather than laughably goofy, required exceptional skill and craftsmanship behind the camera. Makeup effects artist Rob Bottin (The Howling, The Fog, The Thing) created an iconic design for RoboCop, but the limitations of ‘80s technology rendered a suit that looked comically silly when placed in nearly every environment and lighting situation the film called for. Verhoeven and cinematographer Jost Vacano (Soldier of Orange, Das Boot, The NeverEnding Story) devoted much of their allotted schedule to devising cinematic techniques and finding the few specific angles that would enable the RoboCop suit to look not only credible, but powerful, dangerous, and cool. To play the title role, Verhoeven and producer John Davidson eschewed the standard A-list casting of the day and hired the minor star Peter Weller (Shoot the Moon, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension). Whereas an established star could have balked at the production headaches of the risky, low-budget venture, Weller took his commitment to the role seriously, and worked tirelessly with Verhoeven, Bottin, and Juilliard Movement coach Moni Yakim, to devise ways of moving in the suit that would put the character across well on screen. The rest of the actors are also inspired choices, with most roles cast against type. Kurtwood Smith and Ronny Cox, both known for playing sympathetic, good men, threw themselves into playing RoboCop’s ruthless villains with obvious delight and gusto. Similarly Nancy Allen (Carrie, Dressed to Kill, Blow Out) shed her sexy bimbo persona to take on the role of Murphy’s tough, perceptive partner, Anne Lewis.

The ideal casting, perfectly realized screenplay, and timely alignment of director, thematic content, and production techniques all illustrate why remaking RoboCop is so foolish. There are so many ‘80s films that practically beg to be remade because the end result failed to live up to their premise. But it’s difficult to imagine how any contemporary update of RoboCop could elucidate the timelessness of the original picture’s observations or the accuracy of its societal predictions better than a simple screening of the 1987 movie could achieve. The only reason to reboot the franchise (other than to make money) is the tired, and almost always incorrect, rationale that CGI effects will enable a more realistic film and therefore enhance the power and credibility of its themes. 

To the credit of director José Padilha (Tropa de Elite) and writer David Self (The Bourne Identity), the new film valiantly attempts to exist on its own terms, rather than tread the same ground as the original picture. The new RoboCop focuses far more on the heart and soul of the titular character than the original did. It lingers on questions about his humanity that were inherent in Verhoeven’s film but not overtly explored. Unfortunately, this approach spells out the story’s themes, leaving little for the audience to discover on our own. We felt empathy for Peter Weller’s RoboCop because he was a machine who slowly remembered that he was once a man. Joel Kinnaman’s tortured, overwrought, yet utterly bland incarnation, never forgets the Murphy he once was, and we watch him from a removed distance as he suffers through a melodramatic decent into a full-on identity crisis. 

The rest of the new film’s characters all feel like simpleminded stand-ins for real-life figures, rather than satirical embodiments of specific contemporary ideologies. The most blatant example is Samuel L. Jackson’s right-wing political commentator Pat Novak; obviously meant to evoke Fox-News star Bill O’Reilly and his ilk. Novak’s televised speeches, which bookend the film and reoccur all too frequently, lack any sense of irony or poetry--even O’Reilly’s rants are far more deftly constructed. Jackson’s character exists only to provide exposition and state the obvious, and whenever he’s on screen the film grinds to a halt. These sequences have the opposite effect of the original film’s ingenious use of Entertainment Tonight style news breaks, which not only provided astute commentary on how the media is manipulated by corporate interests, but also streamlined and energized the film’s narrative structure in a revolutionary way that is still copied to this day.

Similarly, the villains of the new RoboCop lack the gleeful spirit that made the original’s heavies so memorable. It’s always a treat to see the terrific Michael Keaton back on the big screen, but he isn’t up to the task of making his Raymond Sellars--CEO of the evil OmniCorp--into a potent antagonist. The role is written in a way that requires him to squint his eyes and think real hard before coming up with his character’s absurdly fully formed ideas that broadcast the movie’s subtext to the audience. Not that the original picture didn’t also have some ridiculously corny lines, it’s just that its bad-guy actors (Smith, Cox, and the hilarious Miguel Ferrer in his break-through role) knew how to deliver such dialogue with a deft blend of commitment and self-awareness that made their lines soar rather than fall flat. 

The RoboCop of the new millennium is not a sharp, ultra-violent social satire that breaks new ground in both special effects and screenplay structure, but a soft, PG-13 rated, heavy-handed exegesis on contemporary times, pumped up with the same boring CGI action scenes we see in every other modern blockbuster. The infusion of contrived emotional content will not succeed in tricking audiences into believing that an empty shell has intelligence and soul.