The first thing you need to know about Dawn is that it is decidedly superior to its predecessor, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011). And if you thought that film was a solid sci-fi reboot, you'd be right. So this new installment in the franchise is damn good.
Andy Serkis reprises his demandingly physical role as Caesar, the aptly named chimpanzee protagonist of both Rise and Dawn. In the former film, he plays a revolutionary; in this, he must suffer the bloody vengeance of his Number Two, Koba, who finally has his opportunity to repay the humans for years of "scientific" torment. The apes, now living in relative sovereignty, have developed an intelligent culture that allows them to provide for themselves; the human survivors of the simian plague, on the other hand, are inching toward devastation if they cannot find an alternative power source. Humans Malcolm (played by Jason Clarke) and Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) almost mirror the relationship between the two ape leaders: Malcolm seeks the apes' assistance to restart the dam and return power, while Dreyfus is quite willing to annihilate the apes should they interfere. As we might expect, all it takes is a few mistaken interactions to ignite the fires of war.
Matt Reeves (director of 2008's Cloverfield and 2010's Let Me In) helms this two-hour, thoroughly taut drama into surprisingly complicated moral ground. Its plot may not be wholly unfamiliar -- it feels a lot like Hamlet or many other patriarchal epics -- but Reeves views the proceedings with an eye for visual beauty and emotional depth. He also directs it with impeccable pacing, right from the strangely disturbing opening sequence, building small tensions and letting them collect together until you can't decide which character you sympathize with more. Whereas Rise presented its simple, energetic, and fun story along predictably familiar allegorical grounds, Dawn takes us into a rich gray area of honor, fear, and trust.
The most violent conflict in the film is the horrific assault upon the humans led by Koba; he attempts to kill Caesar and frames the humans, rousing the enraged apes to battle. But this human-ape clash is not the climax of the film. The climax occurs in two separate situations: in one, Malcolm faces off with Dreyfus over how the humans might survive the apes' onslaught, and in the other, a revived Caesar challenges Koba for dominance and, ultimately, peace. Human against human, ape against ape. But not really. See what I mean by complicated? And yet Reeves bravely (and successfully) steers clear of sentiment or even clear allegorical pressure points; instead, he complicates every moment that might blindly fall into an emotional trap or easily definable symbolism.
Watch for the arresting visuals in this movie. They sneak up on you. Where Rise worked in a fairly rigid color scheme, Dawn employs beautiful lighting effects and darker tones of fire and the sun (worked out the titular metaphor yet?) to bring surprising depth to this hairy drama. I'd say the visuals are a bit stronger during the first hour, before the film treks into battle sequences, but even the lighting of the last scene had me gasping. So don't think this sci-fi flick, like its predecessor, is an apish excuse to celebrate violence or even start a racial commentary this summer; it's far more subtle than that. If you had told me I would cry in a movie about animated apes, I wouldn't have believed you.
IMDb: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes
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