Hancock is a superhero in the most rudimentary sense of the term. He flies, he has lightning quick reflexes, and he’s stacked like Beth Ditto’s morning fry up. However, Hancock also has an attitude problem. He is an outcast not only on account of his superpowers, but also because nobody likes him.
The opening scene illustrates a typical Hancock intervention. A high speed car chase on a busy highway is interrupted by an inebriated Hancock, tumbling through road signs and lamp posts in an attempt to pursue the gun toting criminals. Hancock dispatches the assailants by impaling their vehicle on an antenna atop a skyscraper, leaving the emergency services, and possibly the seagulls, to deal with the mess.
Los Angeles residents and officials berate him for the level of damage he causes, and show no appreciation for his questionable method of heroics. This continues until he saves the life of chatternaut PR guru Ray Embrey, a character presented with energy and an easy going comic tilt by Jason Bateman. Gradually, Hancock is forced to confront his personal issues and attitude in order to gain the acceptance of the public and civil authorities.
The developing relationship between Hancock and Embrey is well pitched, balancing genuine friendship with a deft comic touch, and provides one of the most satisfying aspects of the film. The process in which Embrey struggles to rehabilitate Hancock’s introverted nature and short fuse also raises a respectable number of chortles.
Hancock is a brave idea because it supplies a fresh aspect to the superhero canon, but it is also handicapped immediately by its more established Marvel and DC Comics peers that often provide a solid foundation of history and ready-made audience intimacy. Therefore, it is obvious that the success of the film in a financial and critical sense is hoisted heavily on the shoulders of its lucrative headliners.
The uneven tone does not help matters either. The film shifts gear from sketchy superhero spoof to clichéd ‘man-with-a-haunted-past’ subplot to provide an all-too-sudden injection of substance that is not all that welcome. This is a shame, because effectively you feel as if you’re watching two different films, and the abrupt acceleration into po-faced heroism undermines the playful and occasionally hilarious opening 40 minutes.
For those approaching the film from a more canonical superhero aspect, the irrepressible likeability of Hancock might be a cause for chagrin as well. Hancock is neither a hero nor an anti-hero. Whilst this ambiguity is not a novel concept in superhero films, it is difficult to reconcile how an entire city population can dislike someone so feverishly whilst an audience, howling so hard that they take the recovery position, applaud Hancock indulging in a spot of extreme child frisbee.
Not only this, but I doubt that trying to pull someone else’s wife is on any Top 10 list on ‘Which? Hero’. But despite this, you find yourself not disliking Will Smith. And therein lays the gaping flaw of the film. The film leans prominently on the charismatic persona of Will Smith the Actor. It is difficult to figure out his motivations and underlying character beyond the bad boy behaviour. As a result, Smith’s dominant screen presence overpowers his portrayal of Hancock to the point where unsavoury aspects of his character are excused, because it’s Will Smith.
As for Charlize Theron (who continues to pick roles that do everything possible to tart up her image in the wake of her Oscar-winning muntfest, Monster), her role as Embrey’s wife lacks any interesting dimensions to justify her part in the film. Her involvement in a mildly interesting plot twist does merit a mention, but her role feels like an afterthought.
The ending enthusiastically promises a sequel, and once the film ends you see a Hancock who is hastily cut and pasted into a franchiseable superhero brand; a hero logo, a hero suit, and a mysterious identity. This assembly of a superhero feels bland and sterile, and as the credits rolled, I couldn’t help but long for the old Hancock, the unpolished turd that would ruffle a few feathers among the posers at Metropolis and Gotham City.
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