The thing is, I love a good blockbuster, and genuinely believe that there is a level of sophistication and emotional power that can be curated in the mainstream. Just this past decade, I was very impressed with the technical accomplishments, atmosphere, and storytelling in The Batman, Avatar: The Way of Water, and the Dune duology. I’ve been waving the flag for Tenet for nearly 4 years now, Greta Gerwig let it loose in such a fun way with Barbie, I think The Matrix: Resurrection was incorrectly overlooked, quite liked No Time to Die, and appreciate Mission: Impossible’s evergreen ability to deliver the goods.
In just a few weeks, the Apes franchise is coming back with Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, and I’m absolutely stoked. This film is preceded by a trilogy (Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011), Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014), and War for the Planet of the Apes (2017)) whose laughably verbose titles threaten to overshadow the fact that each is both good and better than the film that came before it. Before I get to any predictions or expectations of Kingdom, I want to gush a little about some silly movies that I really like.
Even among the height of Marvel’s critical and commercial success, these films managed to garner strong critical reviews and consistent box office returns relatively quietly. They were never really THE mainstream pop culture events of their time, outside of “Apes Together Strong”, which was the rallying cry of the Reddit GameStop stock phenomenon. At the same time, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who watched these movies that didn’t at least enjoy the time spent with their simian friends. I imagine most people who enjoyed these movies are like me, meaning they were skeptical when the first of these was announced given how iconic the original 1968 film was, yet were pleasantly surprised with what we got. When I found someone else who really dug these movies, it was a signal to me that person had a discerning taste when it came to their blockbuster entertainment; ape recognize ape, after all. Of course, these movies have the same kind of artistic ceiling that most mainstream franchise fare has, but in looking back on the popcorn fare of the 2010’s this trilogy is a small cut above.
One key selling point of these movies was that, in addition to the plethora of standard visual effects one might expect from near-future sci-fi, the apes would be played by actors using motion/facial capture technology that would then be mapped onto a digitally animated animal. Not only did the animation get more visually impressive as these films went on (Dawn opens with an ape in close-up with raindrops convincingly running down its face, and War features significant time where snow convincingly clings to fur), the achievement meant that the apes grew to feature more nuanced characters and ranged performances than the humans. Due to the apes’ communicating being primarily sign language and grunting, long stretches of these movies are almost silent and so the actors convey a range of emotions recognizable and accessible to humans without dialogue or betraying their ape-ness – they still hoot, holler, and beat their chests in ways that we don’t. There is a visible soul in these digital simians and realizing that in a way that’s emotionally resonant is high-level stuff.
These apes don’t just have human characteristics and visually distinctive designs, but distinct personalities and characterization thanks to their performers and writing. I think often of Maurice, an orangutang who helped our hero Caesar develop the Ape Law but most importantly served as his confidant and conscience. Of course, there is also the scarred and vengeful Koba, who was overlooked as one of the decade’s key onscreen villains. He’s got very compelling motivation as these things go, making him a very multi-dimensional character in a cinematic landscape of villains who just want to conquer the earth. Though we get a little of his menacing nature in Rise, he is the standout aspect of Dawn as he overthrows Caesar and provokes a conflict with a pocket of human survivors to avenge the years of suffering he endured at the hands of scientists. He spends much of the film quietly plotting and pushing the boundaries of Caesar’s mercy and the core tenets of Ape Law in a way that’s utterly riveting to watch. Director and credited writer Matt Reeves (The Batman (2022)) knew that he had something special with Koba, since he appears to Caesar in visions in War as the manifestation of his dark impulses.
All that leads us to Caesar himself, played in utterly terrific fashion by motion-capture regular Andy Serkis, who achieves magnificently subtle things through physicality, facial expression, and vocal control. Throughout the trilogy, he experiences both physical evolution and rich character development. After being exposed to an experimental drug meant to cure Alzheimer's (Rise is one of THOSE movies, but still strong), his intelligence rapidly developing and with it his physical stature. He begins walking on his hind legs, teaching other apes sign language, and in one of my favorite “oh s---” movie moments, screams “NO!” at his captors before adopting spoken English as a way of communicating. By the time of War, there are passages of time where his apelike tendencies seem to have faded away.
As far as his character arc is concerned, it’s among the richest of 2010’s pop entertainment. Because he spent significant time as a loved companion to humans, he’s far more empathetic with them than some of his fellow apes and watching him try to balance both sides of himself as he seeks to avoid full-scale war in Dawn is smart ethical dilemma storytelling. Caesar’s attempts to navigate the tension between his society of apes and a pocket of human survivors is mirrored by Jason Clarke’s Malcolm, living among humans who view the nearby apes as a threat. These two kindred spirits ultimately find each other and develop something of a friendship, where Caesar proves himself to be the wisest character in the story. This occurs after Koba nearly kills him in a coup he blames on the humans, provoking the conflict he seeks. When Caesar returns and reclaims his throne, the movie embraces the grandeur befitting the Shakespearean overtones it’s been playing with, albeit with a bunch of apes atop a skyscraper. However, war ultimately comes, and in War there is only one sympathetic human left: a little girl rendered mute by the adapting virus that eliminated much of human life. This reach to connect to the original film is War’s greatest flaw, as it takes the audience out of the well-constructed yarn for the sake of franchise continuity and contradicts the anti-nuclear heart of the original’s classic twist. The remaining humans are led by Woody Harrelson’s rogue, ruthless, and nameless Colonel who’s drawing clear inspiration from Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now. This evil counterpart brings out the worst in Caesar, who occasionally goes dark in a way that his contemporary heroes like Captain America weren’t allowed to. At War’s conclusion, Caesar dies from wounds he sustained in battle on the verge of leading his ape society to an idyllic land out of human reach in the fashion of Moses in the book of Deuteronomy, reflexively pointing out the similarities of their journeys by establishing a base form of law and dealing with usurpers in their ranks while trying to maintain peace.
So, what awaits us in Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes? For starters, the trailers and early reporting make it seem like a few generations have passed since the time of Caesar. A tyrannical ape king now rules, hunting down humans for sport or slavery. Keeping with an Old Testament allegory, we may now be in the time of Kings who made war with those around them and often succumbed to the temptations of the throne. One of my favorite details of Dawn and War was the worldbuilding that happened in the background; Dawn takes place about 10 years after the “fall” of humanity, making it a near-apocalypse, so nature has begun reclaiming most of the buildings but electricity still functions; War takes place shortly afterwards, but isn’t set an in an urban environment though ruins are still present. The apes’ society, meanwhile, is an advanced primitive state where “doctors” where masks made of leaves, apes move between and live in several elaborately constructed treehouses, and the orangutangs teach the kids. I’m stupidly excited to see what a self-worshipping despot of a king will make of an ape world that’s had a few decades to advance (as well as integrate remaining human structures and technology), and they better not let me down.
To conclude: these movies are a smart kind of dumb, and that makes them great entertainment that engages the brain through its characters, worldbuilding, plotting, and themes. So, in a few short weeks, I and my fellow apes will be lined up to enter the Kingdom. Apes together strong.