The Chronicles of Riddick - Frank's Take
01/08/2004 . Source: Frank Ochieng 

Four years after Pitch Black, filmmaker David Twohy decides to follow up his celebrated pet project with the disjointed and bloated sequel The Chronicles of Riddick. Utterly ponderous and as clunky as a crater rock, Riddick fails to capture the spontaneous spirit of its predecessor.

Buy The Chronicles of Riddick in the USA - or Buy The Chronicles of Riddick in the UK

The Chronicles of Riddick (2004) Universal Pictures
1 hour. 57 minutes. Starring: Vin Diesel, Colm Feore, Thandie Newton, Dame Judi Dench, Nick Chinlund, Alexa Davalos, Karl Urban. Directed by: David Twohy

When writer-director David Twohy ushered out 2000’s promising sci-fi space yarn Pitch Black, he surprisingly oversaw what was a rather thrilling and refreshing vehicle that gave some much needed stimulation to the science fiction/outer space genre. Twohy’s sleeper hit was imaginative and unassuming in its cheesy charm. Four years later, the filmmaker decides to follow up his celebrated pet project with the disjointed and bloated sequel The Chronicles of Riddick. Utterly ponderous and as clunky as a crater rock, Riddick fails to capture the spontaneous spirit of its predecessor.

This sluggish planetary production has its visual moments but somehow Twohy forgot to inject his Diesel-fueled narrative with the spunk and drive that made his first installment Pitch Black the unexpected escapist popcorn fare so palatable.

There’s no doubt that The Chronicles of Riddick boasts the impressive-looking set designs and a high-powered notable cast to boot (just check out the inclusion of distinguished actress Dame Judi Dench on board to lend some of her notable presence). Yet with all the seemingly big budget firepower that Riddick possesses in its colorful arsenal, the movie feels very plodding in its plucky showcase of gaudy special effects. In fact, Twohy’s overdone intergalactic opus doesn’t have the gumption to develop its own darn identity.

Curiously, The Chronicles of Riddick is riddled with a smorgasbord of copycat references "borrowed" from other cherished sci-fi spectacles that range from the Star Wars series to the whimsical universe of Star Trek.

Muscle-bound action star Vin Diesel reunites with his Pitch Black helmer Twohy by crawling back into the adventurous skin of rousing rebel Richard B. Riddick, space outlaw personified. It was Diesel’s characterization as the rebellious Riddick that practically stole the show in Pitch Black.

Naturally, the opportunity presented itself to have Diesel bring back the moon-base misfit in an attempt to capitalize on the explosive protagonist and his misadventures amid the galaxy. Somehow the overzealous antics of Diesel’s Riddick cannot overcome the meandering subplots and pointless platitudes that bog down this drowsy, campy space opera.

The premise finds prison escapee Riddick still on the run five years later. Apparently, Riddick has managed to keep a low profile on the planet called Helion Prime. But our anti-hero is becoming restless and daringly wants to stare down the pursuers that are chasing him at will. Things start to come apart when the bloodthirsty alien race known as the Necromongers methodically invade Helion Prime. According to the Helion inhabitants, they believe that Riddick is the chosen one capable of eradicating the diabolical Lord Marshal (Colm Feore), leader of Necromonger Nation.

Before Riddick can begin to mess around with Lord Marshal and his creepy crew, he must contend with his captors led by a determined vigilante (Nick Chinlund). In terms of the Necromongers and their credo, if you don’t conform to their way of life and religion as they see it then consider yourself an unlucky recipient of an inevitable execution.

In other words, it would be in the best interest of Helion Primers to convert and accept the Necromogeric code otherwise one will suffer the dire consequences. As Lord Marshal oversees the destructive mode of his monstrous minions, his second-in-charge Vaakos (Karl Urban) and his opportunistic wife (Thandie Newton) contemplate taking over the hostile operations of the nefarious Necromongers.

With all his badass bravura in tow, Riddick is captured and whisked away to an underground prison called Crematoria. There, Riddick catches up with Kyra (Alexa Davalos) and still has some pending issues with the feisty female who shares his passion for mayhem while hopping from planet to planet looking for some punishing pleasure. The question remains this: Is Kyra the very same individual that he rescued a handful of years ago? Say what you will about this tumultuous tandem of Riddick and Kyra—they certainly have the nerve for sniffing out chaos at any cost.

As a furious fantasy-based thriller, The Chronicles of Riddick lacks something that is essentially dynamic in its unfocused scope. Whereas Twohy produced memorable characters in Pitch Black that were genuinely spry and alert in a story that was inherently riveting in its effortless vibes, there’s virtually no one here in Riddick that potentially stands out as someone the audience can emotionally hitch their suspense wagons to with giddy enthusiasm.

Diesel is predictably brawny and bold and does the "blow ‘em up to pieces bit" effectively but his stilted swagger seems so familiar and routinely manufactured. Diesel’s monosyllabic mumbling gets very old and his one-liners are as infectious and amusing as a kidney stone operation. Granted, Diesel’s Richard B. Riddick is indeed a misguided man of action and his tough guy persona with the taste for murderous manipulation can be a turn on given the right ribald possibilities that are fresh and frothy.

But Diesel’s sense of conflict and carnage feels completely wooden and waning. In the aforementioned Pitch Black, Diesel’s Riddick has a redemptive bone that appeared quite riotous but complex within that storyline’s flexible boundaries. However, we don’t get that dosage of urgency in The Chronicles of Riddick that warrant the same response in its spontaneous mood.

With the uninspired dialogue and the exaggerated but flimsy-looking CGI flourishes set aside, the players in this sci-fi snoozer awkwardly waltz through these transparent proceedings much like a grimacing tap dancer with severe arthritic knees. It’s inexcusable for some of these performers to be trapped in mediocre material that doesn’t benefit their supposedly larger-than-life characters. As the resident baddie, Feore’s Lord Marshal is mysteriously pedestrian as the vile soul. And when he finally gets to clash with heroic hothead Riddick, you find yourself rooting for the planet’s scorching sun rays to melt away the cartoonish combatants and the tedious trials and tribulations that make up this sketchy slab of boisterous bile.

Twohy is so preoccupied with having his flustered fugitive Riddick parading around the sordid place as he ducks and dodges bounty hunters while killing moving targets in sight like he’s in some mobile neighborhood penny arcade. Hence, there’s never really any momentum for the film’s players to be interestingly developed or rounded out accordingly as the whole overactive episode plays out. As over-the-top as Twohy wants his jumpy exposition to be, the only chronicles that are recorded in this overblown video game is a hodgepodge of knitted-together science fiction clichés that have been put to use more creatively in other recycled offerings.

Maybe all it takes is the goofy animated action violence and the superficial surreal sci-fi snap to make The Chronicles of Riddick the must see movie that adds an inexplicable completeness to your sequelitis needs. If you aren’t that demanding and insist that the passable ridiculousness of Riddick and his corrosive clan satisfies your appetite for a surefire space age serial then the best of luck in your appreciation for this dunderheaded Dune wannabe.

Remember now, there’s always that viable option to grab the flashlight and play in the delightful darkness of Twohy’s reminiscing cult favorite Pitch Black. It’s too bad that the light doesn’t shine as much in our criminal cad Riddick’s second foray into these convoluted chronicles, right?

Frank Ochieng

(c) Frank Ochieng 2004