First things first: "Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes" is an inappropriate title. The previous movie was called "RISE Of The Planet Of The Apes." You can technically rise before the dawn. But why would you? Nope. It makes no sense. Flip it.
Thankfully this is my only major complaint. While the first (exceptional) installment from 2011 in this newly dusted off series rose to its lack of occasion, this one soars past its already major occasion, topping its predecessor in every conceivable way. Not only is a great summer blockbuster (which is a patronizing way of saying it's good, but c'mon), but it's just a triumphant movie, full on, no exceptions.
A superb blend of visual wizardry, economical storytelling, straightforward action, and parable, it calls into question what the hell other mainstream movies think they're doing.
Some critics seem keen to label "Dawn," with apes and humans laying claim to their own pieces of the word and no one willing to concede, as a redressing of Israel versus Palestine. And that's fine. You can certainly make that argument. I think a more general take feels appropriate - the idea of two parties convinced of their rightness even as violence escalates isn't exactly specific to one time or place. But therein lies what makes "Dawn" special. It is whatever you want it to be. Read between the lines if your heart desires; director Matt Reeves and screenwriters Mark Bomback, Rick Jaffa, and Amanda Silver probably welcome it. Or pour a tub of artificially flavored popcorn and stay for the spectacle of apes riding on horseback while brandishing firearms.
This is a multilayered movie where you can't see the layers, all seamlessly integrated with temerity and fierce intelligence. And it's the perfect kind of intelligence, if that makes any sense. It's smart in the way that, for example, "The Dark Knight" is smart, or any great piece of pop art is smart. It's got big-tent brains, with a conceit clear enough that anyone who's willing can get in on the conversation, but not so overbearing that it ever feels like a chore.
For all the ape-on-human and ape-on-ape carnage promised in the trailers, "Dawn" is a surprisingly thoughtful movie and a patient one at that, revealing itself gradually and subtlety volleying our alliances until we accept the immutable fact that both sides in any conflict can be as right as they are wrong. As the movie opens with a swift recap of the ten years separating the previous movie and this one, mankind is rendered all but obsolete, and indeed we spend the first 15 minutes entirely with the apes, occupying a section of forest outside the San Francisco bay which feels positively Edenesque. This is our world. These are our protagonists. When humans first enter the picture, it's positively jarring - a rupture in what we've come to expect.
It's the first instance in the movie where Reeves switches viewpoints, but it won't be the last, and just as surely as "Dawn" juggles spectacle and meditation, so does it juggle our allegiances. Reeves and his writers rarely feel content to peg anyone into de facto roles of hero and villain. Everyone kind of has a point. Led by Caesar (Andy Serkis, once again topping himself in a motion captured performance), the apes don't want to exterminate mankind so much as lay rightful claim to what's their's after a lifetime of servitude. And the humans, even when they push back, react less with malice and more with the instinctual desire to protect their species' very existence.
There are no easy answers. There are no easy solutions. And when the movie arrives at its triumphant final shot, it's with the rare ellipses not designed to shamelessly set up a sequel, but with the honest inevitability of the ongoing. Sometimes all we have, ape and human alike, are the individual choices we make now which lead us into whatever comes next.
And all this comes couched in such a visceral experience! Armed with a tactile sense for the visual, Reeves tells his story with a sort of sensitive aggressiveness, pausing to observe even as he plows on through, with a motto that shuns "Here it is" in favor of "Here you are" (wait for the killer single over-the-shoulder take of an ape as it captains a tank). This world doesn't feel created. It feels lived in. It feels dirty. It feels like the result of all that came before. And this also owes no small thanks to Serkis who, along with the visual effects team, infuses a talking ape with, how else to put it, a soul.
If there's any mild disappoint in the climax, which favors summer movies' usual "epic fight makes things crash down" pattern, that's only due to its own expectations. "Dawn" merely works because it's wickedly exciting and visually sweeping. It resonates because behind it all lies a conscience.
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