Uncharted: Gleaming Hollywood Star Power Can’t Save this Silly Actioner

By Thom Ernst

Rating: C

There's little question about Tom Holland's movie star status. Once you achieve Marvel Universe creds, then you're about as legit of a Hollywood star as you can get.

But Holland is proving himself to be more than just a dude taking his lap around the Spiderman franchise. He does big screen very well. Holland performs with unjaded fresh face appeal even if the film is old-hat lazy.

And that brings us to Uncharted.

Directed by Reuben Fleischer (Zombieland, Gangster Squad, Venom), Uncharted stars Holland as Nathanial "Nate" Drake. Nate is a street-smart (adult) orphan lured into adventure by Victor "Sully" Sullivan (Mark Wahlberg), who might know something about Nate's older brother. Also, Sullivan owns an original map charting Ferdinand Magellan's pre-empted quest for gold, something that fuels Nate's curiosity before his brother abandons him with a promise to return.

Within the first few moments of Uncharted, Holland has convinced me that there are no pursuits more worthwhile than the very things my mother hoped I'd avoid pursuing: life as a bartender flinging cocktails like a circus performer, a nimble pickpocket, and a fearless thief, and (topping my mother's list) being an orphan.

By the time Nate and Sully meet, and the two engage in a repertoire of one-up-conmanship, I've enough invested in Nate to not be too concerned where the rest of the film will take me. I felt destined to champion Uncharted as a playful send-up of the Hollywood blockbuster.

And so, I strapped myself into a story that I knew would test credibility, distract with beautiful people cleverly bantering in exotic locations, and substitute suspense with ricocheting allegiances and a PG 13 body count.

For a while, I manage to cling to that commitment. But eventually, my loyalty erodes into skepticism and finally into the harsh acceptance that, in the face of blockbuster action films, Uncharted is a bust.

It's not easy to admit that this raucous adventure that chases history and artifacts through catacombs, beneath churches and cities, into hidden rooms, and narrowly escaped booby traps fails. It's even harder to pinpoint why.

Might it be Wahlberg who fares better when playing blue-collar cops, oil workers, and porn stars? Sure, you can dress Wahlberg up, but he doesn't look comfortable in Armani playing James Bond at evil-rich people's charity auctions.

It would be too much to place guilt solely on Antonio Banderas, who, as Santiago Moncada, the film's penultimate villain, underplays as if in direct opposition to the scene-chewing villainy commonly seen in these types of movies.

So, perhaps it's the grand-finale Disney ride set piece? Or the connect-the-dots script that promises the world but on a flat-earther's terms? Or is it the uneasiness that comes from watching a story striving for Indiana Jones appeal but delivers National Treasure disappointment?

My bias is against Uncharted for being the latest in transitions from video games to blockbuster film. Uncharted may well be an engaging game to play, but as a movie dips well beneath the watermark of the throw-back matinee actioners, it so feverishly wishes to be part of.

Uncharted once again confirms my belief that video games make for bad to mediocre movies. At least Uncharted scrounges up enough fortitude to be mediocre.

But Holland? Yeah, Holland makes it tolerable.

Uncharted. Directed by Reuben Fleischer. Starring Tom Holland, Mark Wahlberg, and Antonio Banderas. Opens in theatres February 18.