It takes a special kind of stupid to make a movie like Independence Day: Resurgence happen, so pinning down its source is a special challenge. Is it Roland Emmerich, co-writer, co-producer, all director, all hack? How about Dean Devlin, Emmerich’s enabler, the devil on his shoulder for pictures like Stonewall, Anonymous, 10,000 BC, The Day After Tomorrow and, of course, the original Independence Day? Is it the studio system that inexplicably still gives Emmerich money to make movies and, perhaps more inexplicably, agrees to distribute them for public consumption? Or is it Hollywood’s foolish over-reliance on franchising and branding as its new, viscous lifeblood?
Maybe it’s one of these, or all of them, or some combination of the four. If anyone can dodge blame for Independence Day: Resurgence’s conception, creation and release (aside from Will Smith, who 20th Century Fox decided wasn’t worth paying for in pre-production), it’s fans of the first Independence Day, an indisputably dopey movie that nonetheless works as an explosive bale of cotton candy. They’re innocent in this, because even the most enthusiastic among them didn’t ask for a follow-up. Why would they? What is there to follow up on? The end of Independence Day left little to be examined beyond the slow process of rebuilding the planet after a global alien invasion. Is there an interesting movie in that aftermath? Possibly. Forget “interesting,” there might even be a good movie there.
But is there a spectacle in that aftermath? Not at all, which is why Independence Day: Resurgence goes overboard to top its predecessor. This is the true nature of “part twos.” They must be bigger, louder and more obnoxious than their “part ones.” We expect more from our sequels, so the demand for extravagance is partially our fault. But Independence Day: Resurgence ignores the fundamental questions of blockbusting as much as it tries to answer them, and when it does answer them, it’s usually wrong, or perhaps idiotic. The film goes so big that characters are given dialogue to speak its bigness aloud, in case it isn’t clear to the audience that an alien spaceship whose dimensions span the Atlantic satisfies baseline size requirements.
All the computer-generated business is a thin cover, though, for the fact that Independence Day: Resurgence is, for all functional purposes, the same goddamn film as Independence Day, sans the execution, the excitement and, worst of all, the Smith. It’s a two-hour rumpus of winking and nudging that tries to replicate what’s great about Independence Day via carbon copying. Once again, we tour around Earth meeting various people involved in various government agencies at varying levels of access, and once again, all of those people are caught with their pants down when vicious conqueror aliens burst into our solar system packing laser cannons and bad intentions. The major difference is the passage of time. (Also: One of those aliens is tall as an office tower. Where’s a Jaeger when you need one?)
Independence Day: Resurgence never misses a moment to remind us that 20 years have gone by since these aliens first attacked Earth. Characters separated in that period reunite and marvel at how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other, or remark on each other’s appearances. If there’s no organic way to express the elapse of two decades, the writers drop in nods to 1996 through one-liners. Don’t be offended by the obviousness. Remember: It’s a stupid movie. It isn’t a masterclass in finesse and elegance. It’s a window into Roland Emmerich’s zany psyche, caught in a perpetual sugar high (possibly among other highs). You’re not here as a witness to nuanced, economical screenwriting or expertly crafted spectacle. You’re here to see national landmarks go boom, humans go splat and Jeff Goldblum go full-Goldblum.