By Kirk Honeycutt

Bottom line: Steven Spielberg gives Earth a pounding in sci-fi actioner as Tom Cruise and Dakota Fanning keep the focus on human beings.


This review was written for the theatrical release of "War of the Worlds."

In "War of the Worlds," Steven Spielberg marshals state-of-the-art tools of cinema and computerized imagery to mount eye-popping scenes of destruction, chaos and horror. Exploring the dark side of his old films "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial" and "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," Spielberg more than does justice to the granddaddy of all alien-invasion tales, H.G. Wells' still terrifying novel published in 1898. The real question the film raises is whether post-Sept. 11 audiences are ready to view destruction, chaos and horror as entertainment.

Most action films since that tragedy have involved either comic book characters, historic battles or ancient civilizations. But this intergalactic war movie starring Tom Cruise might be too realistic for its own good: The film takes perhaps a little too much glee in its abilities to manufacture mayhem. That being said, the ride is extraordinary.

Spielberg and his writers, Josh Friedman and David Koepp, opt to tell the invasion story through the eyes of Cruise's Ray Ferrier, a blue-collar guy with no plan of action other than the protection of his loved ones. It is a three-character drama with the world literally crashing down around their ears.

But it's how the world falls apart that amazes. At one point, an airline plunges to earth, but we see only the heart-rending aftermath as our protagonists have hidden in the basement next to the crash site. At another point, a train roars past a crowd of fleeing refugees with each and every car consumed in flames. Then there is a ferry boat, which aliens upend, spilling cars and people into dark waters.

The writers retain several key elements from Wells' novel. An opening narration, gravely yet coolly voiced by Morgan Freeman, echoes Wells' ominous first lines, telling us that in the first years of the 21st century across the gulf of space, our world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's who "regarded our planet with envious eyes."

Also the movie's death machines, the so-called Tripods, resemble the 100-foot-tall killing machines envisioned by Wells. And Spielberg's aliens, like Wells', suck blood from living humans for sustenance. This results in a startling image of a surreal, blood-sprayed, ruined landscape that is grotesque and fascinating at the same time.

Ray is no superhero who combats this invasion. In fact, he is barely a hero. A divorced New York dockworker, Ray has pretty much alienated his teenage son Robbie (Justin Chatwin) and younger daughter Rachel (the impossibly precocious Dakota Fanning). When his pregnant ex-wife (Miranda Otto) and her new husband dump the kids with Ray for a weekend visit, clearly neither child relishes the idea of time with Dad.

Robbie, sullen and scornful, has little use for his father. He even wears a Red Sox cap in defiance of Ray's Yankees cap. Rachel is more tolerant but no less wise to her dad's shortcomings. The family has little time to resolve any issues, however, as a terrific wind is followed by a weird electrical storm that sees lightning hammer away at the same intersection in this working-class neighborhood.

Ray heads for the intersection. In the film's first big CGI set pieces, streets and buildings crack open as a towering three-legged war machine rears up from beneath the earth. The Tripod lays waste to the urban landscape. All humans caught by its death rays disintegrate into so many molecules.

Ray escapes, grabs the kids and takes off in the only car that seemingly works. Ray's only thought is to get his kids to his ex-wife in Boston, which is not much of a plan. In reality, Ray is simply trying to hold things together as his daughter screams and son yells. He must keep his cool and pour all conflicting emotions and energy into the task at hand: survival.

The family barely escapes the Tripods only to find themselves and their car at the mercy of a violent mob willing to kill for a ride. The trio are on the run through the entire film until Robbie insists on going his own way for reasons not entirely clear but no doubt stemming from a long-simmering animosity toward his dad.

Spielberg keeps tightening the screws as he clearly is in full command of this war zone. One tracking shot choreographed with his longtime and brilliant cinematographer Janusz Kaminski has the camera pivot around the speeding car, moving close for dialogue among the fleeing family, pulling back and around for a longer view, then moving back in for more dialogue. It's a dazzling shot, reminiscent of and topping the camera choreography in Spielberg's first feature "The Sugarland Express."

Spielberg waits 87 minutes to reveal the alien creatures themselves, and only at this point do we realize what little bloodsuckers they are. This then leads to the movie's eeriest sequence.

A stranger (Tim Robbins) invites Ray and Rachel to take refuge in a farmhouse. They soon realize that tragic events have unhinged this stranger. Ray must then decide whether the stranger's psychosis truly jeopardizes his family's own survival and what he must do to eliminate that threat. It's a creepy, uncomfortable sequence but the most human moment in a film that contains wall-to-wall destruction.

The main humanizing element is the team of Cruise and Fanning. They play off the rise and fall of each other's emotions, each trying to coax the other into a false sense of security when the reality of their situation denies any such notion. If Ray didn't have a child to protect, he probably would be as lost as the mobs that surge haphazardly this way and that. With these two, it's not always clear who is the child and who the adult as the actors continually switch those roles in a juggling act of tense emotions.

Tech credits are all aces as one would expect, especially Kaminski's skillful cinematography, ILM's amazing CG visual effects, John Williams' nerve-tinkling score and Rick Carter's resolutely realistic production design.