Men in Black: International is the perfect example of how most reboots pushed by corporate interests have failed to understand what made the originals tick. Yes, the new MIB has the requisite details: odd couple stars in black suits and sunglasses, aliens on earth, and a smattering of action. But what it misses to deliver is a swing of charm. A great deal of that could be attributed to the overwrought plotting that robs the film of capitalising on the lead pair’s chemistry, something that elevated the original from a regular sci-fi product to an unassuming sorcerer.
Taking the baton from Barry Sonnenfeld, F. Gary Gray (The Fate of the Furious, Straight Outta Compton) recharges the reboot following the original’s footsteps. This time, it’s about a fresh recruit, Agent M (Tessa Thompson) who learns the ways of MIB while teaming up with an arrogant senior, Agent H (Chris Hemsworth).
The film ushers us into Agent M’s childhood, as a child named Molly who loved Stephen Hawking, and watched her parents being neuralyzed after a friendly alien paid them a visit. That little girl grew up with the single-minded conviction of joining the alien hunters.
The script (by Art Marcum and Matt Holloway) is another addition to the current slate of lip-service feminism (following Avengers: Endgame, Aladdin, X-Men: Dark Phoenix) by Hollywood juggernauts which brings Agent M and Agent O (Emma Thompson as the only leftover from the last lot) together in a wry scene about the agency being named after men.
Both Hemsworth and Thompson who displayed undeniable chemistry as a duo in their Marvel outings earlier bring in a similar shimmer here, with one playing off the other, the sharp-eyed, acid-tongued girl versus the effortlessly handsome dude. But they don’t have the lines to bite off each other’s head, and the chemistry never really bubbles up to spill over. It remains functional, servicing the contrived storyline, without the required verve of the classic duo.
The only one who has cool lines to boast is Kumail Nanjiani who never appears on screen, but provides voice for a tiny alien called Pawny. He is a little soldier, always perched on Agent M’s shoulders. Nanjiani delivers his lines with timing so sharp, they drop in like improvised bombs, not scripted poofs. This is the kind of comedic inflection that fills up the screen, and you miss it when others’ lines don’t disarm you in the same sweep.
Despite a few sparks here and there, MIB: International throws too much plot in, without really caring to fill it up with anticipatory tension.
In the busy narrative, there is the threat of a mole, an alien takeover, past romances and so on, almost aping a poor man’s James Bond picture that runs pointlessly all over the world to reach a predictable end. The action focusses too much being just ‘action’, never really using comedy to illustrate action – the highlight of the original.
By the end of nearly two hours, you will remember Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith’s witty shenanigans more than the current pair. The only hope you come out with is the thought of Thompson and Thompson, two fiery women who could actually lead MIB, and rename the whole damn franchise. This one could use a neuralyzer instead.
(The writer is a journalist, a screenwriter, and a content developer who believes in the insanity of words, in print or otherwise. He tweets @RanjibMazumder)
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