Back From the 90s: Judge Dredd (Dir Danny Cannon, 1h 36m, 1995)

The 90s was an odd time in action cinema; the very nature of the action hero was changing, their adversary, and demographic, were changing, and even the way his (or indeed her) world, and death-defying exploits were brought to life was rapidly evolving from the practical to the world of the computer. It's certainly easy to look back on it as a halcyon period, full of superb films like Speed, Jurassic Park, Point Break, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, The Fifth Element, Face/Off, and, of course, the film that arguably defined the end of the 1990s, The Matrix. In a mere decade (as we've already discussed), action cinema went from an all-macho fest, all guns blazing against nefarious "Commies" and their plots, to Hong-Kong action and Japanese animation inspired cerebral dives, all guns blazing, into what it means to be free in a (largely computer generated) future where most of mankind is trapped inside a digital recreation of 1999. This, of course, is only half the story.

For, much as the 90s was an era where cinema leapt forward in technical and thematic innovations, where the blockbuster became a stalwart of the summer once again, it was also a decade littered with nigh-unwatchable throwbacks to the 80s, or ill-advised big-concept action movies where world-building overtook narrative. It is a decade where, resting on its laurels, the superhero movie came to a crashing halt in spectacularly campy style, where a beloved cultural icon was dumped into New York to cause b-movie monster damage, and where, like never before, studios began to reach back into the past and reimagine and reboot, before this came deriguer, to calamitous results. Welcome back to the films the 90s wanted you to forget. Strap in. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

The year is 1977, and against the background of the Silver Jubilee, and the burgeoning punk movement, the British comic book industry is about to be reborn, finally stepping away from the never-ending war fought in the pages of Commando and Victor into fantastical worlds. Leaping aboard the upcoming trend of science fiction movies, 2000AD is anti-authoritarian, and its first real star is its perfect antithesis, the tough street cop, forced to keep law in a nightmarish future, Judge Dredd, a stalwart of the magazine to the present day. It was only a matter of time, as the 90s dawned, and, via Batman and Batman Returns, comic books became a viable option for adaption, before Hollywood came calling.

Unlike some of the films we'll talk about this month, Judge Dredd's problems aren't immediately apparent. Undeniably, there were problems in production-both Richard Donner and Renny Harlin (the director of Die Hard 2, who would spend much of 1995 killing the pirate movie for the next decade and running Carolco Pictures into the ground with Cutthroat Island) turned it down. Hollywood Pictures, after heavy re-writing of the script, turned to second-time director Danny Cannon (already with Young Americans under his belt, and later to direct the execrable Geostorm, and much of CSI), casting Sylvester Stallone (rather than original choice, Arnold Schwarzenegger) as Dredd. Having such a big-name actor against a relatively inexperienced director isn't necessarily the death-knell of a film, but having a big name actor as Dredd, compared to Karl Urban's turn as the lawman in Dredd (2012), proved to be fatal to the spirit of Dredd, as we'll come on to mention.

Judge Dredd begins, undeniably, strongly; the first five minutes of the film. We are introduced to Dredd in his printed form, dozens of pages of 2000AD lending the film a pulpy sensibility, thunderous trumpets and drums providing a march, a perfect epitomisation of Dredd in musical form. Next comes James Earl Jones' sonorous narration of a future yet to come, of upheaval and The Cursed Earth, and Mega Cities, and the Judges, and Alan Silvestri's score, before, in a pull back, we are introduced to a group of prisoners being rehabilitated back into Mega City. We follow one of them, Fergee, played by Rob Schneider, into the city, and from here we are introduced to the towering neon-lit, futuristic bricolage of the city, and to the painstaking design work of Nigel Phelps, previously the designer for Batman (1989).

Where Judge Dredd is at its strongest is, undeniably, in its visuals; the science-fiction metropolis of towers and neon and hiragana and holographic adverts, of flying cars and buildings stretching out of view above and below street level are nothing especially new to modern eyes; heck, less than two years later, The Fifth Element would arguably create much the same concept, but where Judge Dredd undeniably differs is in the grit and grime. Mega City One, after all, is nothing more or less than Thatcher's London, of teetering high rises riddled with crime and drugs, of the inner city rot, as the writers and artists of 2000AD knew it. It's also, undeniably, spectacular, even more so for 1995, not merely because there's an innately physical sense to Mega City One, brought to life with models and colossal sets.

It's this physicality, this grimy sense to its bowels, its innate commentary on the haves and have nots as Fergee descends down to Block Y, that gives the film its spirit, a spirit that the film never quite loses even as its narrative begins to fall apart. There is a sense of "place" of a world at once alien and familiar to ourselves, and as the film dumps us, and Fergee into a riot, so we see the underbelly of this colossal city, its down-at-heel tower blocks. This lends itself, as Fergee stumbled into a gang war, to getting the themes of Judge Dredd down-of block-against block warfare, of violence, and, as they roar into view, of the power of the judges. Pinned down, two judges call for backup, and roaring into view comes, Versace codpiece and armour et al, the man himself, Judge Joseph Dredd. It's here, as Sly Stallone steps off his motorbike, that the film's problems begin.

Chief among these is how Stallone plays Dredd, and what impact, especially as Sly's star power arguably gave him more say than Cannon, this has on the rest of the movie. It's here we have to talk, as Dredd and the other Judges storm into the tower block that Fergee and his captors have taken, about the film's action. Or, indeed, lack thereof, and how Dredd is portrayed. Following Sly bellowing into the night that he is, "The Law!" and quipping that he's out of range as bullets ping past him, we have an almost bloodless shootout in which Dredd crashes through a ceiling, and essentially massacres two rooms of people, one of whom have shot dead a Judge, in scenes that absolutely lack impact, or any real kick. Not only this, but Dredd cracks jokes, picking up a naff one-liner where he spits back "I knew you'd say that" to practically every major character.

It's a curiously fangless and threatless version of the character, and this is even before (again, presumably to quell any concern from Stallone that he would miss out on being the star of the picture), Dredd removes his helmet. Which he then proceeds to do. Over. And Over. And Over. Something that, to give some idea of how cripplingly out-of-character for Joseph Dredd a bare head is, has happened only a handful of times in the comic's forty year plus run, and never without some form of censorship, shadowing, or, in the case of the "Dead Man" arc of the comic, which this film will shortly (partially) adapt, heavily scarred. The point is, Dredd helmetless is as unthinkable, and jarring to any comic book fan as Batman having parents-Judge Dredd fundamentally misunderstands its subject, in both tone and the characterisation of its hero

Compared to Dredd, where blood, viscera, bullets, and the impact of stun grenades, machines guns, and brutally powerful weaponry are seen, heard and felt, Judge Dredd barely feels like its set in a post-apocalyptic future, let alone one where law There is, of course, a reason for the bloodlessness. Executive meddling. Or, more correctly, Sylvester Stallone and Hollywood Picture, a subsidiary of Disney, cut the film to ribbons, edited down five times to even reach an R rating. Stallone wanted to go further, and abortive attempts were made to cut the film down to a PG-13. It gives almost every action scene an oddly neutered, bloodless sensibility that no amount of superb design work, or, in its later stages, impressive makeup and animatronics can solve.

Fortunately, once the preamble of what the Judges, and Dredd himself are, is set in place, with Dredd's overly brutal tactics and harsh sentencing questioned by his superiors and colleague, Judge Hershey (Diana Lane, who becomes Dredd's foil throughout the entire film), so the film at least provides the immovable object of Dredd with the unstoppable force of Rico (Armand Assante), whose prison break, and subsequent arrival in Mega City One threatens to uncover the dirty secrets of the Judges, including their programme to create a perfect Judge, of which he, and Dredd, are the only survivors. Assante, unlike Stallone, absolutely belongs in this world-for a start, he's one of the first major antagonists of the comics done absolutely right, a maniacal roaring believer in might equalling right, who, when he's on screen, kicks the entire film up a couple of notches simply because his performance is something other than neutered nothingness.

That he shares much of it with Jürgen Prochnow's Judge Griffin, the only other character who seems to be anything other than a one-dimensional recreation of paper and ink comics, (sorry, Max Von Sydow) means that every scene that they share together, slowly unhatching their scheme, and growing their army of clones to take over from the judges is one scene that largely lacks Dredd, and thus doesn't have to content with Stallone bellowing out his lines and can actually do enjoyably dastardly things like shooting dead scores of judges, or, in arguably the best scene of the entire film, reveal to a gunshop owner (played by the late musician, Ian Dury) that Rico is actually a judge. With Rico sharing, as Dredd's brother, his entire genetic code, so the pair proceed to frame Dredd for the crime (actually carried out by Rico) of an anti-Judge journalist and his wife. Despite Hershey's efforts, Dredd is banished, only saved from death by Sydow's Chief Justice Fargo exiling himself to the The Cursed Earth outside.

There then follows a short interlude in which Dredd and Fergee, now being transported to one of this blasted world's prisons, are shot down by forces that eventually reveal themselves to be under Griffin, and find themselves the captives of the Angel Gang (a remarkably well-imagined gang of quasi "The Hills Have Eyes" meets "Deliverance" mutant hillbillies) that briefly appear in the comic. They're a group the film could have spent much of its middle third focusing on, but much like their appearance there, are quickly dispensed with with the exception of the gurning, and charmingly unpleasant Mean Machine (Christopher Adamson). Midway through the Angel Gang setting upon Dredd and Fergee, Fargo reappears, offs a couple of their number, and is then stabbed by Mean Machine, who Dredd proceeds, with another deadpan one-liner, to electrocute to death, with a dying Fargo revealling Dredd's connection to Rico.

The film then proceeds to basically careen through its last third at breakneck speed, with the Judges dying in scores to Rico's forces enabling him to force the hand of his superiors into reactivating Janus, whilst Dredd and Fergee break back into Mega City One via the (ever-vulnerable) waste disposal system, team up with Hershey, and head to stop Rico. It is here that the film simply gives up-Rico and Dredd spend what feels like minutes bellowing "Law!" at each other, before Rico turns on Griffin and has his (admittedly visually impressive, and entirely done via animatronics) robot simply murder him, unleashing the (again, impressively unnerving) subjects of Project Janus, barely formed humanoids, upon Dredd.

Unfortunately, by this point, Dredd is simply going through the motions, quickly offing what should be genetically perfect Judges in a matter of moments, whilst his allies off Rico's subordinates, leading to Dredd dropping his brother out of the head of the Statue of Liberty, before, restored to his role as a Judge, Joseph Dredd, still helmetless, quips some more, and then, because even this film didn't believe it would get a sequel, in an era where every other film seemed to have a sequel hook, turns down the role of Chief Justice. Dredd then gets on his bike, and roars off...to perch on part of a wall as the credits roll, and his first cinematic outing comes to a crashing stop.

Judge Dredd is a fascinating microcosm of mid 90s cinema. In places the film is remarkably visually vivid and imaginative-practically every moment that doesn't have Sly on screen is at least a showcase of excellent production design, of superb model work or prosthetics or costuming. When Judge Dredd himself isn't on screen, Judge Dredd feels like...well, itself, and even has moments where the social commentary of the comics manages to creep in. It may not hold much of a candle to the tighter, darker and more nuanced design of the 2012 reboot, nor to how utterly that film is soaked in the spirit of the comics, but by god it tries to be something unique and visually stunning.

Which, honestly, is more than can be said for its star. I've already commented, back when we talked about this mighty sea-change in cinema, that Stallone seems to have come off worst of all his peers, and here, in blunt terms, is exhibit one, a supreme sense of ego, of the ever-more powerful sensibility of actors over the productions they starred in. What we get, largely due to Stallone's ego, is a largely gutted, utterly sanitised film that feels, to pardon the expression, more like Dan Dare than Judge Dredd. Worst of all, far worse than simply turning Dredd's world into a bloodless mockery itself is Stallone's version of the character full of leaden action movie quips and action movie swagger, and none of the grit or nuance of the anti-heroic cop. It's a positively prehistoric performance in a film that otherwise tries its best to be futuristic

And what Judge Dredd is, so very much unlike its reboot, seventeen years later, is a compromise which makes nobody happy; it's a curiously antiquated piece of cinema, something that feels like a throwback to the 1980s in its performances, even as its visual effects still feel cutting edge. It is, even to the casual fan of Dredd, or comic books in general, despite attempts to recreate his world on the big screen, a rather lacklustre, overly safe, and exsanguinated attempt to bring one of the medium's great heroes to life.

Rating: Neutral

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