Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes review: A new hero rises in agreeable, dutiful blockbuster

As the Planet Of The Apes franchise has shown us for almost 60 years, its primates won’t stop evolving, and neither will its movies. Case in point: the saga of Caesar, brought to motion-capture life by Andy Serkis in three films released throughout the 2010s, was a bleaker affair compared to the sci-fi shocks that sent Charlton Heston into a belligerent froth in 1968's Planet Of The Apes.

This change in tempo felt like a deliberate response to the morally complex blockbusters of the period; the funkier aspects of Apes—makeup, costuming, ham acting (no shade)—were tossed out for a more grounded Genesis fable, as befitted this gritter landscape. In frequently thought-provoking detail, the rebooted series of films explored how Earth became a planet of apes via dizzying computer effects and deeply human performances from the likes of Gary Oldman, John Lithgow, and (paradoxically, given all the fur) Serkis. The Apes revival succeeded because it met our complicated times on its terms.

The series’ headier themes returned with a vengeance in 2013's Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes, which cemented Caesar’s role as the apes’ reluctant leader and explored the bleak consequences of violence. By the time War rolled around, Caesar’s reluctance was replaced with vengeance, and naturally, the films descended further into moral murk. Given all this darkness and Serkis’ uneclipsable role, it’s not such a surprise that Wes Ball’s Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes would bring some sunshine back into the franchise by easing off all this gloom and doom—and it must be said, losing a lot of its charisma in the process—so that the Apes might live on for another decade or so.

That’s not to say Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes is a step down from what came before. It’s the most entertaining Apes movie since Dawn, and exceeds it in terms of scale. Set in a far-flung future where Caesar’s legacy still looms large, Ball’s film explores two of the various ape civilizations that have flourished over the generations since his death. At its core is Noa (Owen Teague), a burgeoning member of the Eagle Clan, who is introduced during an amazing egg-hunting sequence that showcases Maze Runner filmmaker Ball’s confidence with digital trickery and eye for labyrinthine visuals. Through Noa’s nimble ascent and the film’s often mesmerizing imagery (a blend of on-location shooting and effects from Wētā Workshop), Ball draws us deeper into his vision, going to impressive lengths to define it.

As the newest lead in a series rife with magnetic characters, Noa is a decidedly more measured protagonist; living a quiet life free of dangers, he’s guided by compassion for his friends and unwavering devotion to his family. This amicability extends to his inevitable retribution quest, spurred on by a thrilling attack sequence that decimates his peaceful tree tower community. Once the flames rise and the apes begin to drop, Noa shifts into revenge mode with surprising ease. This is where the script by Josh Friedman hits one of its few stumbling blocks: As a brighter, more optimistic hero, Noa’s introduction to violence doesn’t pack the same punch as Caesar’s. He adapts so quickly to it that we never grasp its effects on his spirit.

This surprise attack was done on the orders of Proximus Caesar (Kevin Durand), a self-styled monarch who has erected a fiefdom amid hollowed-out ships beached on the shores of the American West Coast. Proximus is a proper modern-day demagogue; he appropriates the words of Caesar—and, you’ve surely noticed, adopted his name as a title—and uses them to cow others to serve his goals. He preaches evolution for the good of the race and decrees himself as the leader who will guide them through this next developmental leap. You can’t help but daydream how the true Caesar would trounce this guy.

When Noa finally meets this ridiculous strongman, Proximus’s presence is earthquaking. He lays out what he wants boisterously, captivatingly: “Apes will learn… I will learn!”

This, perhaps relatably, leaves Noa blinking at him incredulously before he states the obvious: The king’s methods are wrong. Our hero’s simplicity makes the ensuing conflict surprisingly lopsided and flimsy, given how powerfully Kingdom pops off during its exhilarating and engaging first half.

Luckily, there’s a slightly more complicated X factor to this minor war in the form of Mae (Freya Allan), a human whose heightened intellect and discerning fashion sense set her apart from the feral remnants of her kind. (Among the few people we see in this movie, the ferals wear tatters, drink from streams, and collectively perk up their heads like meerkats before a hyena attack—which would almost seem shocking if they weren’t seen from such a distance.) As Mae silently shadows Noa on his odyssey, a fragile trust gradually forms between them, threatening Proximus’ reign while laying the groundwork for a potential new trilogy, should audiences embrace this less knotty yet undeniably crowd-pleasing installment.

That’s perhaps Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes’ biggest shortcoming: It’s too agreeable, too dutiful to building a new series, and too reluctant to disrupt this new status quo even as it detonates its many explosive setpieces. It makes its ending, which aims to evoke the shock twist of the 1968 film, land with a thud. Instead of flooring us with a daring finale, it offers mild surprises in the interest of brand proliferation. That’s the essence of Wes Ball’s blockbuster-to-be; it wants to amp up a new generation of Apes die-hards but is only allowed to politely jostle them.