Critic's Grade: C-

Frank's film tip: Don't sign your John HANCOCK to this run-of-the-mill superhero saga about a down-and-out bottle-toting snarly Will Smith trying to rehab his flawed character's angst-ridden image

Apparently the box office in 2008 is experiencing a superhero renaissance of sorts courtesy of recent entertainingly explosive Marvel Comics fare such as Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk. Additionally, the anticipated Batman flick The Dark Knight and Hellboy II: The Golden Army are waiting to make their manic mark, too. In director Peter Berg’s Hancock, the gears are switched a bit as we’re introduced to a new kind of beleaguered hero that rejects the responsibilities of being “the chosen one”. The concept of a bad boy rescuer (okay, maybe the Hulkster fits the bill to a certain extent) is grounded in an interesting conflict that debunks the superhero credo that all the good guys are inherently angelic. Well, Berg’s Hancock is as seriously flawed as they come—surly, arrogant, intoxicated, sarcastic, confrontational and disillusioned.

So why doesn’t Hancock work as an edgy commentary on the heroic larger-than-life do-gooders that tread the territory on the dark side of dutiful dysfunction? Maybe it’s because Berg never really takes the time to focus on one particular solid story about an alcoholic avenger fighting his demons at the expense of a vulnerable world that could use his super-skilled services? The movie tries to dabble in offbeat pithiness and pathos but never establishes a flowing rhythm as the unevenness prevails so convincingly. The film’s premise about a reluctant hero combating his inner angst could have been cleverly perceived had this material been structured distinctively in its soul-searching mode. Once Hancock’s redemption is realized the movie drifts needlessly to the point of no return where the payoff is in constant question.

There’s no question that ardent Will Smith fans will flock to Hancock and shell out the big bucks to see him make summertime cinematic magic once again. After all, Smith’s “Mr. July” reputation at the box office has sustained his marketability for years. Interestingly, Smith’s cocky and flippant persona has served him well as a contemporary moviemaking icon. As the self-destructive John Hancock, Smith is too likable and smooth to be cast as a sullen badass with an identity complex. The miscasting of Smith in this reckless role of a sulking superhero never clicks beyond the gimmick of having Mr. July brood with a high-powered chip on his shoulder.

As previously established, Hancock is a superhero of a different hue. He’s basically an ebony urbanized Superman with a hangover. Shabbily dressed with a ragged attitude to match, Hancock is belligerent to his fellow Los Angeles-based residents. Sure, he does his bit to apply his super heroic trick-of-the-trade. Still, Hancock is wearing out his welcome with the public; they can no longer tolerate his grumpy, dingy-looking demeanor. Actually, Hancock is not too thrilled with the masses that he protects either. The best friend that Hancock can rely on is the bottle...plain and simple.

The main struggle that Hancock experiences is questioning his own existence—both past and present. Hancock’s carelessness to chase down the bad guys and maintain order between a stupor often leads to considerable property damages. Of course all the havoc being wreaked doesn’t phase the indifferent Hancock at all. Time is running out as the hell-raising Hancock is running amuck and the support of the community is growing increasingly weary of his shell-shock shenanigans.

Soon, the appreciation for Hancock’s presence is gradually recognized when he saves public relations consultant Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman, “Juno”) from an errant train. In return, Ray promises to rehabilitate Hancock’s nasty image as an opportunistic move for his career. This is a thankless task as the incorrigible Hancock proves to be quite a handful. Ray’s wife Mary (played by Oscar-winner Charlize Theron) isn’t crazy about her husband’s ambitious project in turning the hazardous Hancock into a walking (or flying) model of inspiration. Heck, even Hancock is not that enthusiastic about Ray’s intentions to make him somewhat lovable to the inquiring observers.

Will Hancock get his psyche in order and finally tackle his displeasing disposition? How will Hancock’s makeover affect the personal and professional lives of the Embreys? Can Hancock get it together psychologically before the city undergoes a crime wave that could be deemed unstoppable?

Berg’s computer-generated narrative is something that had a unique twist—a superhero with lingering burnout. Certainly Hancock had its golden opportunities to be compelling in that a conflicted hero with a drinking problem is submerged in ambivalence about his self-worth. This definitely would have made for some deep-seeded drama about knights-in-shining armor and the hidden clutter that threatens their expected heroics. Unfortunately, Berg never disciplines his exposition with concentrating on that one major dynamic—Hancock’s moral decline and the seriocomic consequences that ensue.

Smith is up to the challenge as the sad-sack superhero but the meandering material never matches his off-the-cuff hostilities. The exchange between Smith’s John Hancock and Bateman’s Ray Embrey is amusing at times but never really escalates beyond the pleasantries of an ordinary man giving guidance to an incredibly gifted man lost in his emotional abyss. With the exception of the movie’s plot twist involving Mary’s and Hancock’s connection, Theron’s Mary is nothing more than a throwaway character throughout the majority of the proceedings.

The special effects feel rather synthetic for a big-time summer blockbuster. The film tries to get cutesy with its tongue-in-cheek dialogue and sometimes Smith’s Hancock-inspired hurtful quips towards kids and seniors are mindlessly over-the-top. There’s a revelation about someone within the circle of the action that has Hancock’s duplicate capabilities of strength but then the movie becomes bogged down in the predictable and exaggerated showdown that aimlessly persist. When the smoke finally clears Hancock emerges as just another routine riff on the superhero genre.

In conclusion, Hancock wasn’t the only element misunderstood in Berg’s stilted action-adventure. After undergoing this cockeyed concoction of redemptive ribaldry one may consider joining Smith’s Hancock in a booze-and-snooze session for the ages.

Frank rates this film: ** stars (out of 4 stars)

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