them” ideology: of the tribalist tendency to assume the moral, cognitive or ontological superiority of the in-group, and to define those outside the group as other, as malicious, untrustworthy or worse. In Dawn, both humans and apes are underdogs, and when large-scale conflict breaks out, the film’s sympathies are less with one side or the other than against the battle itself rather than for it.ĭawn offers a remarkably robust allegory of the insidiousness of “us vs. What about Caesar’s son River (Nick Thurston), helpfully marked throughout the film by the scars of a bear attack in the early going? Time will tell.Īt the climax of Rise, when the apes squared off against the humans at the Golden Gate Bridge, the film’s sympathies were squarely with the underdog apes against the long-dominant humans. The most likely bridge-burner here is Koba (Toby Kebbell, replacing Christopher Gordon in the first film), a bonobo who bears the scars of captivity and experimentation. The leader of an incipient simian Stone Age civilization in the Muir Woods sequoia forest north of the Golden Gate Bridge, Caesar is suspicious of humans, but harbors fond memories of the scientist who raised and educated him (absent James Franco) he also doesn’t want conflict that could cost the lives of his apes.Ĭaesar generally commands of the loyalty the apes, above all Maurice the orangutan (Karin Konoval) and the chimpanzee Rocket (Terry Notary). On the ape side, there’s Caesar the super-chimp, again played with astonishing persuasiveness by Andy Serkis via the magic of performance capture technology, with an assist from digital animators. Then there’s Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), acting leader of a small colony of increasingly desperate survivors hanging on in San Francisco, who could go either way. A Grade-A bridge-burner (Kirk Acevedo), in what he means as a sarcastic remark, helpfully self-identifies as the jerk of the group (though he uses a stronger word). It’s also about how much harder it is to build bridges than to burn them, and how maddeningly easy it can be for those given to the latter to undo the work of those struggling to achieve the former.īridge-builders on the human side include Malcolm (Jason Clarke), a widowed father whose teenage son Alexander (Kodi Smit-McPhee) shares his natural immunity to the “simian flu” that wiped out most of humanity over the last 10 years, and Ellie (Keri Russell), a former Centers of Disease Control nurse. Indeed, in my screening, there was scattered laughter and applause at horrifyingly inappropriate moments from a handful of viewers who apparently wanted more of what the earlier film offered.īut the reality is that the blockbuster triumph of Rise has been replaced in Dawn with a powerful sense of tragedy and loss, rooted in real moral fury at the ignoble impulses and attitudes that sabotage human well-being.ĭawn is about hostility versus empathy, cooperation versus belligerence, suspicion and fear versus daring to trust. It is certainly possible to watch both Rise and Dawn (don’t try to make sequential sense of the inaugural title language) in this same spirit of nihilistic fantasy, if you’ve a mind to. In my 2011 review, I suggested the term “posthuman porn” for this kind of nihilistic fantasizing. On the contrary, there was a troubling note of complacent blockbuster uplift as the rise of the apes dovetailed with the decline of man - a nihilistic enthusiasm for the prospect of a post-human future. It wasn’t even, like the pandemic thriller Contagion, about the practical side of what should or shouldn’t be done in such a crisis. Laboring under the plot mechanics of moving toward a world dominated by intelligent apes rather than humans - an intelligence-boosting drug intended to cure dementia, a deadly virus decimating human populations - it was all about the how, and not really about the why, or what it would reveal about us, or why it would matter. Rise of the Planet of the Apes was a popcorn pre-apocalypse that devoted most of its brain power to mundane questions of sci-fi plausibility, a bit to character drama and virtually none to subtext or theme. Nothing in the well-made but prosaic 2011 reboot hinted at the power of this film, a worthy successor to the best of the original films, with their cautionary parables about man’s inhumanity to man set in a topsy-turvy Twilight Zone world of intelligent apes and animal-like humans.