Filled with endless Looking
Glass allegories, on the surface, these stories are about the evolution of
Alice, the series’ protagonist. The manipulation of memory, dreamlike
flashbacks, and a repetitive rhythm form the basis of Resident Evil's opus. Alice begins the film as a mirror of a video
game persona. Confused and abandoned in a lush mansion that sits atop a
nefarious laboratory, she descends into the madness below, embarking on an odyssey
of bullets, blades, and the undead. The thing is, none of it actually matters
because the films purposefully abandon the plot of the game in favor of making
a rather provocative statement.
Each film has a theme. The first film is about
relationships and how the same event is remembered differently by the two
participants. The second film is about military as a business. The third is an
apocalyptic story about the culture of government surveillance. The fourth
focuses on cloning and multiple past lives. The fifth brings these elements
together by forcing the hero to work with the villain in order to save
humanity. The final chapter explores the
nature of a creative empire and the conflict between the artist and the
corporation.
It doesn't fully click until the fifth film, when the
various clues hidden in each film start to come together: There's a beautifully
shot sequence by Glen Macpherson involving an endless procession of clones, all
of them various characters from each of the films. No matter the environment,
the women are always scantily clad while the men appear as macho ideas rather
than fleshed out characters. Virtually every film is critically panned but yet
manages to make a staggering amount of money. Finally, there is the idea of the
good guys being forced to cooperate with their corporate foils in order to
succeed.
The final entry, Resident Evil: The Final Chapter uses the series' trademarked cyclical formula to deliver a kill shot to the over saturated American box office. Featuring slick fight choreography, MacPherson's impressive visuals, and a script that abandons any sense of restraint, this is the perfect conclusion to Anderson's deceptive masterwork. These films are a
scathing indictment of Hollywood and a love note to the importance of creative
freedom. They're remarkably presented and equally catty, all while espousing
the idea that art, in its various forms is a part of the creator who gives it
life.
Recycled characters and plot lines, hordes of zombie like
fans, authoritative control on everything we experience down to our visual
memories, and on and on and on. The argument loses some water with reference to
the first two films, but in the third, when the series finally finds its stride
is where it begins to communicate its true intent. The final three films,
helmed by Anderson drive the point home. They feature some legitimately
beautiful cinematography by Macpherson, pure adrenaline laced fight
choreography by Brett Chan, wicked costumes by Wendy Partridge, and a
performance by Milla Jovovich that is both committed to the story and loyal to
the rebellious underpinnings.
Available now for digital rental, the Resident Evil series
of films may not be for everyone, but the sum of their parts is an important
examination of the current box office obsession that is dividing fans and
critics, crushing artistic agency, and burning virtual bridges across social
media. These (particularly the last four) movies are renegade film making at
its finest.
--Kyle Jonathan