Posted: 04/15/2005

Sahara

(2005)

by William Furlong

“The best parts of my life happened in the water. All of them.” So says Dirk Pitt (Matthew McConaughey) to Dr. Eva Rojas (Penelope Cruz) as they float serenely down the Niger River in a borrowed yacht. Well Dirk, unfortunately for the both of us, you’re in a movie called Sahara, so I’ll have to take your word for it.

For the first half hour or so, Sahara had me. Opening with the last days of the Civil War, an armored Confederate ship slips defiantly though a maelstrom of Union cannon fire to vanish into the fog, exploding cannon balls bouncing and bonging off its steel hull all the way. In present day Africa, we follow Cruz as a World Health Organization doctor who has discovered a new outbreak. We know it’s new because it leaves its’ victims with crusty, bloodshot cataracts over their eyes, something she’s never encountered before. Very soon, she’s rescued in a superbly shot and edited scene (unfortunately the only one of its kind in the film) by Dirk Diggler himself. I mean Brad Pitt. Ahem, I mean Dirk Pitt.

Even then, things move along smoothly as we, and Cruz, meet Al Giordino (Steve Zahn) and Admiral Sandecker (William H. Macy), Pitt’s sidekick and boss respectively. The stars align as the Admiral agrees to lend his yacht to Dirk and Al as they go in search of that long lost Confederate gunship and give the good doctor a ride to Mali to search for the source of the outbreak. But don’t get too interested in the mysteries of the first act, as they’re abandoned for action movie clichés and explosions soon enough. Why would a Confederate captain sail to Africa to hide his cargo? What is it about this disease that makes your eyes look all Dawn of the Dead? Why doesn’t William H. Macy get more work? Alas, you won’t find the answers here or in the film, though director Breck Eisner (fun fact: son of Disney’s Michael Eisner!) does his best to make you forget you ever asked the questions.

After the first half hour or so, Sahara lost me. That’s when the first (of many) chase scene occurs involving three boats and a jeep. Later we’ll see camels, a train, a classic car and a makeshift windsurfing airplane tooling across the desert to the strains of “Magic Carpet Ride.” We’ll explore the desert fortress of the rebels with hearts of gold, the towering, James Bondian solar energy plant - all mirrors and unguarded tunnels, and of course, the Sahara itself, which turns out to be much smaller than I thought, as Dirk and Dr. Rojas can’t seem to stop bumping into one another. By the time that French guy (Lambert Wilson) from the Matrix movies and stock character #42 (Evil African General) show up twirling their mustaches, all hope for a kindler, gentler, more thoughtful action flick is lost.

It’s impossible not to compare this flick to any Indiana Jones movie, especially Raiders of the Lost Ark. You shouldn’t compare the two, but you probably will, especially when Dirk tussles with a mysterious man in a turban as under the whirling blades of a revving helicopter. Don’t get me wrong, Sahara has that Indy sense of fun, but it’s missing any sense of danger. I was twice taken by surprise when Dirk showed up with blood on this face. ‘d just watched him commit whatever feat of derring-do, but, like a Three Stooges episode, I didn’t expect the violence to have consequences.

McConaughey is only okay as Dirk Pitt. He’s got the physical part down, but seems to be lacking a bit of the edge that a former Navy SEAL ought to have. Even though McConaughey and Penelope Cruz began a real life relationship while shooting the film, their romantic scenes fizzled. The real chemistry comes from McConaughey and Zahn who, as kindergarden/Navy/action-adventure buddies, really click. Who needs a love interest when you’ve got heterosexual life partners (just a couple of good old American heroes, as we’re constantly reminded by the out of place classic rock soundtrack)? I guess the same people who need Al leaping to safety in slo-mo as a humongous fireball bears down on him. The same people who need Dirk taking cover from machine gun fire behind an upholstered yacht chair. The same people who need a whole lot of gunplay with absolutely no casualties. Michael Bay, I’m looking at you.

Sure it’s goofy fun, but that first half hour hints at what might have been. On a related note, I’ve never read any of Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt novels, so I can’t claim that Sahara the book was better or worse than Sahara the movie. However, Mr. Cussler is suing the producers of the film who allegedly promised, then failed, to give him final script approval. Guess he thought the book was better.

William Furlong is a writer living in Manhattan.

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