‘Rebel Moon – Part Two: The Scargiver’ is another Zack Snyder Flub

In an industry where science fiction still relies on Orientalism (look no further than The Creator and Dune: Part 2), the first Rebel Moon, despite being a narrative hodgepodge, cut through that aesthetic status quo with deftness and ease. Its villains, the Motherworld, aren't just Nazi-esque, like Star Wars' Empire—Rebel Moon notably began as a Star Wars pitch—but they serve to bring George Lucas' Vietnam-era critique of American militarism full circle, with armor reminiscent of 21st Century U.S. army uniforms. The Scargiver carries forward those designs, and it still features a ragtag, multi-ethnic group of bandit heroes from different cultures, though it does little with them as individuals.

Having returned to her adopted home planet of Veldt, former imperial pawn Kora (Sofia Boutella) celebrates what she thinks is a major victory alongside her makeshift warrior crew, including her farmer love interest Gunnar (Michiel Huisman), who accompanied her on her mission in the previous film. Kora is the latest of Snyder’s battle maidens and perhaps the most interesting from a distance, not only because Boutella plays her with a sense of burden, but because her beau is hilariously lacking in any discernible talent beyond simple decency. That might sound like a knock, but their dynamic is refreshing. They’re joined by the various warriors they recruited in Part One in order to protect their village: former military strategist Titus (Djimon Hounsou), cyborg sword-master Nemesis (Bae Doona), mysterious blacksmith Tarak (Staz Nair)—whose deep spiritual connection to animals doesn’t actually come up in the sequel—and the unfortunately nondescript Millius (Elise Duffy), a member of a larger rebellion, whose leader was slain in the previous entry. The group's celebrations are cut short when they learn that the last movie's villain, ruthless Motherworld general Atticus Noble (Ed Skrein), is still alive, and is still coming for Veldt's grain supply.

With little deviation from the first movie’s basic setup, the series already feels stagnant a mere two entries into Snyder's planned six (though whether any future sequels will be made remains to be seen). Right from the start, it also lacks the grandeur and pizzazz of a fun, nominally action-heavy sci-fi sequel, thanks to janky editing decisions that rob moments of impact rather than enhancing them. The opening scene reveals that Noble has been resurrected, and as he prepares to enact vengeance upon Kora, he stares into the camera in closeup and utters her nickname: "The Scargiver." It's a moment of crescendo that ought to yank the movie's title onto our screens, but instead, the film has him speak a further two lines before its name comes up. A significant chunk of the movie’s built-in tension as a sequel dissipates in its cold open alone.

Where Part One sprang forward too quickly without letting moments land, Part Two is filled with these record-scratch moments of dead air and misplaced cinematic emphasis. A trio of minor characters, who disappeared after Part One's first act—imperial robot warrior Jimmy (Anthony Hopkins), reformed Motherworld Aris (Sky Yang), and the latter's farmer love interest Sam (Charlotte Maggi)—are present throughout most of the runtime here, since they all live on Veldt, but they're still glossed over despite their moral conundrums. Jimmy and Aris have switched allegiances, while Sam has fallen for a man once responsible for oppressing her people, but none of this ever comes up. All they are is levers to adjust and move the plot.

As the Motherworld troops approach, General Titus instructs Veldt's farmers to harvest all their wheat to use as a bargaining chip, resulting in an extended farming montage where lens flares take up more of the frame than actual objects and people. It's one of several long stretches of relative nothing-ness, including a sequence of all six leads sitting around a table and reminiscing over the reasons they oppose their imperial conquerors. This is, on one hand, completely unnecessary in a sequel to a film where their recruitment depends on stirring each character's emotions enough for them to want to fight once more. But it's also oddly instructive: each character's story yields flashbacks that, though they simply repeat familiar information—some of the film’s dialogue amounts to “Hey, remember that thing I already told you?”—are much more interesting in appearance than the movie we're actually watching. This is especially the backstory of Bae's gothic western-inspired Nemesis, and the surprising way she acquires her sword-wielding robot arms.

The color palette on Veldt features a grim gas-lamp wash that makes its numerous sunrises and sunsets feel sickly (the lush farmland seldom feels worth protecting), while the flashbacks narrated by Titus, Tarak, Millius, and Nemesis are far more visually dynamic and alluring. They feature Snyder's signature, comic book-like high contrast as well as his use of slow-motion, which extends each memory infinitely outward, like defining moments for each character. Unfortunately, this use of slow-motion ends up indiscriminate—it continues throughout the movie in ways that rob the action of momentum—and there are just as many serious moments as there are goofy ones that announce their presence. Chief among these is a flashback of Kora being forced to commit murder, as a diegetic score is performed by a classical orchestra in the corner of every frame. It's distracting at best. At worst, it verges on genre self-parody in the vein of Mel Brooks.

By the time the Motherworld ships arrive on Veldt and the plot actually begins, about an hour has elapsed, and few of the subsequent action payoffs are properly set up. Almost every problem a character faces is solved by the interference of someone else rather than their own wit or skill. And while this theoretically speaks to the movie's collectivist spirit, it's deeply dissatisfying in execution (compared to, say, having the characters work together in the first place, rather than entering each other’s scenes all of a sudden).

Things go ka-boom en route to a laser-sword finale right out of Star Wars Episode III—not even its volcanic climax, but rather, its introductory scenes. Despite all of Rebel Moon's sound and fury, it wraps up without anyone being afforded meaningful character moments, even though each actor plays up the story's broad emotions to the best of their ability. The film even leaves the overarching plot dangling in mid-air in the hopes of a sequel. Even as the second half of a single production, it brings home practically none of the first film's ideas or subplots about resisting imperialism, and reaches no meaningful conclusions. It doesn’t end, so much as it simply peters out.