Westworld

Directed by Michael Crichton, Westworld follows Richard Benjamin’s Peter and James Brolin’s John as they arrive at an adult-oriented theme park populated by completely lifelike robots (including Yul Brynner’s Gunslinger) – with problems ensuing after said robots begin to go haywire. It’s a thoroughly compelling and promising setup that is, at the outset, employed to agreeable, engaging effect, as Crichton does a superb job of establishing the central characters and the futuristic landscape in which the story unfolds – with the entertaining atmosphere perpetuated by Gene Polito’s striking cinematography and uniformly strong work from an eclectic roster of performers. (Benjamin and Brolin are, in terms of the latter, quite good here, although it remains clear that Brynner’s memorable turn as the increasingly terrifying Gunslinger remains a highlight.) There’s little doubt, then, that Westworld‘s ultimate failure is triggered by a distressingly sluggish midsection that grows less and less interesting as time progresses, with the emphasis on several guests’ less-than-enthralling exploits paving the way for a final third that couldn’t possibly be more underwhelming and disappointing (ie this stretch essentially comes off as one long chase sequence). By the time the decent yet too-little-too-late climax rolls around, Westworld has cemented its place as a missed opportunity that generally feels as though it should be much, much better.

** out of ****