Not stealth enough
Michael Bay panders and plunders for multi-million dollar bomb
Wow, they’re not even trying anymore.
Feed $100 million in quarters into a washing machine, throw in various pages from other movies, a CGI program and soap opera-level actors and hit the button. Looking at the mishmash that results through the little glass window of the machine would come close to watching what spills out on the screen during the action sequences of Stealth, the latest entry from the Boy Who Would Be Bay (Michael, that is) Rob Cohen (of such notable entries as “The Half-assed and the Spurious” and “Triple-Dreks").
Navy Top Gun pilots Lt. Ben Gannon (Josh Lucas, a Matthew McConaughey-wannabe), Kara Wade (Jessica Biel of the preternatural ass) and comic relief Henry Purcell (Jamie Foxx reverting back to Annoying Guy mode) are perplexed to have their aerial à trois blocked by the introduction of an artificial intelligence bomber dubbed Eddie. And, military intelligence being what it is, they assign the impressionable flying computer to the one hot doggin’ pilot who consistently refuses to follow orders. Quicker than you can do a Colin Clive impression and bellow “It’s alive, … alive!”, lightning strikes Eddie and awakens a stubborn sentience, albeit one that seems to be taking notes from the neo-con hit list.
Soon, three countries on America’s don’t-mess-with list (as in: those loaded with ICBMs) are adrift in radioactive dust after Eddie nukes targets in neighboring countries, as Gannon tries to bond with Eddie and bring him home. The fact that within a day there probably wouldn’t be a home to go back to is never addressed. Fortunately, during the interim Kara wades through North Korean mud in skintight outfits.
Essentially this is Team America: World Police without the strings or comedy, although the acting remains pretty much as expressive. The only time Cohen’s direction can keep the camera from shaking, spinning and in-focus is when Biel’s ass or C-cup cleavage needs coverage (not that I’m that good of a judge of boob-size—she just feels the need to offer that information as she makes cow-eyes at her superior officer). The dialogue is creaky; as if the panel of writers had never taken notes during a real-life conversation, content only to recycle tropes from similar movies’ third-generation dialogue.
It’s two hours of a movie not being stealth enough—you can still see the damned thing if you’re unfortunate enough to have paid $7.