Do they make movies like they used to? They sure have made a lot of silly, swashbuckling, symphonically absurd treasure hunt movies in recent years, with throwbacks like Dora, Uncharted and Tomb Raider attempting to rekindle a semblance of that wonderful genre. The new Guy Ritchie flick, Fountain of Youth, bucks that promising trend — it’s a bloated, increasingly derivative treasure hunt movie with a star-studded cast and a brain-numbing plot.
When you think about treasure hunt movies — those transporting ventures where you feel like one of the crew scouring jungles, deserts, and azure oceans for a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow — it’s the most confined journeys that stand out. The movies where a ragtag crew of disparate personalities coalesce to find treasure, typically in one location, bolstered by production and cinematography, are a lot more interesting than globetrotting thrillers where disparate personalities gallivant from country to country like members of the Fast and Furious (*cough* *cough* Davinci Code).
Human emotions are always more exciting than CGI explosions or manufactured car chases — we’ll always be less interested in Johnny Depp’s poop deck in Pirates of the Caribbean and more interested in Johnny Depp’s poop bed in court. The Goonies, Stand by Me, and Treasure of Sierra Madre are always going to be more interesting than National Treasure or Pirates of the Caribbean, because we’re able to settle into a single setting, get to know the characters, why they’re here, how they think and their motivations, as opposed to jumping from place to place, reading ponderous scrolls, and tracking down laughable clues in paintings.
In the hands of Guy Ritchie, Fountain of Youth is a mix of National Treasure and a Reddit conspiracy thread. A deep state organization tied to the Vatican has been hiding the fountain of youth and a dying billionaire (Domhnall Gleeson) wants to track it down. That’s where Luke (John Krasinski) comes in, driving his Vespa through the alleys, stalls, and malls of Bangkok while a group of snarling gangsters chase him with machine guns. He’s got a valuable painting under his arm, a canvas that has clues to where the mythical fountain is located. After evading his pursuers, Luke hops on a train where he’s confronted by the illustrious Esme (Eiza González), who informs him she recovers rare paintings like the one in his possession. What a coincidence! A couple knife fights, dead bodies, and train cars later, Luke is back with his employer and team of scavengers back home.
That’s the first of many convoluted yet curiously entertaining chase sequences on display. Luke’s next stop is the British museum where his sister Charlotte (Natalie Portman) dabbles as a curator, at least until he steals a painting that holds more clues to the fountain’s location, forcing Charlotte to join forces with her estranged brother as they flee in a blue convertible that drifts around the cobblestone streets of London. With their team in tow, they’re pursued by a detective (Arian Moayed) with a collection of increasingly gorgeous outfits and a litany of other villains as they search for clues in locations ranging from the Austrian Library to the Vatican to a rusted boat in the middle of the ocean, where a sinking knife fight makes for the most vivacious action sequence in the film, allowing Ritchie to showcase the playful editing and witty dialogue that made him a staple of action cinema.
If Fountain has a standout, it’s screenwriter James Vanderbilt’s charming banter between characters. While Krasinski is a bit miscast in the role, he’s in his element as a more confident, quick-witted version of his character Jim in The Office. He’s matched by Portman, who isn’t given much to do besides whine and bicker, but is trying her darndest to bring depth to a depthless well of silliness. The rest of the cast, Moayed in particular, are serviceable at playing quirky side characters worthy of a slapstick comedy.
Fountain of Youth is fine, and occasionally diverting, but while some moments are inspired, it’s mostly a chaotic endeavor that must have been fun to film but is much more confusing to watch. We’re in Egypt, then Vienna, then we’re kicking it with Stanley Tucci in the Vatican (which makes you wonder if he ever left after filming last year’s Conclave?). It’s not like we get to settle into any of these set-pieces — the resplendent libraries and museums and pyramids — since every establishing shot and exposition dump is followed by a muddled shootout where all the main characters leave unscathed and the bland extras pile up like a pyramid of dead bodies. That’s typical of recent treasure hunt movies, most of which are made for streaming, but it makes you long for the treasure maps that didn’t cross the continents but traversed the peaks, ridges, and valleys of the human soul. ❖