The Matrix: Overloaded

The same, but different; that’s just about how any decent sequel can be summed up. We come to successive installments of a cinematic franchise expecting the elements that won us over the first time around, but reconfigured and repackaged so that we can enjoy them anew. It’s when sequel-makers get an inflated sense of their own importance and of the “legacy” they’re continuing that a sequel all too often fails; George Lucas while making The Phantom Menace, or Francis Ford Coppola during The Godfather III, bought into their own hype and tried to improve on already-sacrosanct formulae. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and thankfully writer-directors Andy and Larry Wachowski kept their cool when they decided to expand their 1999 bombshell The Matrix into a trilogy.

Pay careful attention to the title of part two, The Matrix Reloaded. It’s still The Matrix, with the trademark elements that blew our minds four years ago: the leather and sunglasses, the now-we’re-fast-now-we’re-slow-now-we’re-fast-again time-bending action sequences, the dimestore philosophizing, the staggering urban destruction and collateral damage, the endless rounds of kung-fu. But “Reloaded” is not the same as “continued” – it’s more like starting over, like hitting “reset” on your Nintendo™ game, and this time you can make different moves you didn’t try before. Don’t come to this movie thinking the Wachowski brothers are going to re-write the manual like they did the first time around; they’ve set the rules for the new cinematic millennium, and in Reloaded they’re going to show you some additional approaches to the same ideas.

The story is continuing, of course, as Neo (Keanu Reeves) and Morpheus (Lawrence Fishburne, who clearly gained some weight between films) and Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss) persevere in their crusade to free the human race from the machine-run computer programs that keep everyone believing they’re living normal lives but hide the fact that they’re nothing more than robot food. The first Matrix film led us to believe there were very few liberated humans running around underground and occasionally making mischief within the computerized illusion, with Morpheus in a clear position of authority; Reloaded pulls the camera back to reveal an entire subterranean society of possibly millions, populating level after level of cavernous and foundry-like structures. This stronghold called Zion is ruled by a council of elders, protected by a substantial army of which Morpheus is but one officer, and discovers that the malicious machines above are now drilling downwards to exterminate them once and for all. Matrix Uno also gave the impression that Neo’s newly-emerged superpowers spell the end of humans’ oppression and the ultimate futility of the mass digital deception; turns out not even everyone in Zion believes Neo is destined to save the day. Viewers might be thrown off by Reloaded’s lengthy exploration of Zion’s mundane activities during the first hour or so, but remember, this all existed even before Keanu swallowed the red pill and freed his mind, so think of it as a built-in prequel of sorts.

Soon enough our impeccably-dressed trio dives back into the matrix to open numerous cans of virtual whoop-ass, and the combat is both more of the same and incomprehensibly relentless. When the Wachowski clan understood that a sequel should be more of the same, the emphasis is clearly on more. After a lengthy encounter between Neo and seemingly hundreds of clones of his arch-enemy Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving, clearly enjoying his line readings more and more) finally wrapped up, I discovered my jaw had lowered considerably from its usual spot. Reloaded’s brawling vocabulary is so detailed, so extensive, and so improbable that the eye can only grasp bits and pieces; action sequences proceed at virtually the speed of thought (with occasional “bullet-time” breaks), a stylistic choice that will evoke adoration in some and overwhelm others. If that isn’t enough of an evolutionary leap, wait until Trinity and Morpheus flee from their enemies via the freeway; there’s no telling how long this ordeal lasts, but the physical effect on the viewer is palpably draining. From dodging machine-gun fire to hand-to-hand melee in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce to hurtling against traffic on a motorcycle to samurai sword action atop a 16-wheeler to a spectacular head-on collision with another massive truck, Reloaded endlessly ratches up the stakes, and it takes a toll on your nerves. (Or more succinctly: Reloaded pretty much kicks your head’s ass.)

My immediate response to all this dogged pandemonium was essentially shock and awe, but others will be justified in declaring it simply too much. Audiences may not be ready for Reloaded’s assault on the senses, and its occasional incursions on our mind are no less unsettling. Whereas the first Matrix could be neatly wrapped up in largely Christian symbolism, the extended dystopian universe of Reloaded is a Godless one. Though many citizens of Zion leave offerings at Neo’s apartment door and ask for his blessings, there are many more figures who seek to explain their circumstances in more academic ways. Agent Smith speaks of “purpose,” the Merovingian of “causality,” the Architect of “choice,” while Morpheus holds onto his beliefs in the propechies that assert all they need is Neo (though Neo himself isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do). Everyone wants answers, and what proves dispiriting is how Reloaded strips down the supernatural and explains everything away as mere instances of flawed programming: ghosts, angels, werewolves, aliens, even the Oracle herself are simply instances of computer code gone awry. That leaves the biological entities to try and make heads or tails of it all with lengthy speeches which also have the capacity to try the viewer’s patience. I won’t claim to have followed half of the rhetoric filling the spaces between physical fracases, and it’s again clear the Wachowskis never intended for us to keep pace. It’s all stimulation, whether visual or verbal, and that’s the movies’ primary service – who’s to fault Reloaded for giving you more for your movie dollar than you expected?

I can’t imagine what’s in store for a third installment (don’t make the same mistake I did and leave during the closing credits – the trailer for The Matrix Revolutions plays afterwards!); maybe the Wachowskis will instead go for Less-is-More. In the meantime, Reloaded gives us plenty to chew on, with new characters like Jada Pinkett-Smith’s Niobe, who shares a romantic history with Morpheus, to Lambert Wilson’s Merovingian, who suggests that Neo wasn’t the first “anomaly” to cross his path, and then there’s the evil Smith him/itself, who gets a good deal of his own character development and seems to have become a free agent, making endless copies of himself within the matrix and somehow downloading himself into Zionistas below. The Wachowskis don’t even wait until the final act to introduce the Architect of the matrix himself, residing within the “Source” (read: mainframe), and revealing to Neo that he is in truth the sixth iteration of “the One,” a bug that keeps surfacing no matter how many times he upgrades his program (from whence the Reloaded title comes).

Mysteries pile upon mysteries, even as the humans’ plight seems increasingly hopeless, and in Reloaded’s closing moments it appears Zion is already lost, Neo has extended his powers beyond the matrix, and they’re stranded within the bowels of the earth, without a ship or a way to re-enter the computer world. All they have left are the two variables the Architect confesses are what make us uniquely human and which have exasperated him from the start: love and hope. Presented with two options, save the human race or save the woman he loves, Neo opts for a third choice – save them all – and we must wait until this winter for Revolutions to see if his love and hope are enough. (And after that, we see if money talks and Warner Brothers inflicts a series of prequels on us. And as we’ve seen so far, a prequel can never equal.)

There’s more to it all, of course, much much more, which is the guiding principle of this middle film. You can ponder why everyone insists on wearing sunglasses indoors all the time, why the agents look like members of Spandau Ballet, how an elderly Keymaker keeps his cool while being tossed all over a freeway, why there has to be a fight scene every 20 minutes or so, the significance of Zion’s very tribal behavior, and if Link’s constantly reassuring his girlfriend that he’s coming back pretty much targets him for elimination. You can wonder what Neo’s teenage groupie has to do with the story, whether the French language truly is like “wiping your ass with silk,” whether Neo’s resuscitating Trinity might unleash super-powers of her own, and just how the folks trapped in the matrix are dealing with the inconceivable carnage all the squabbling leaves behind. Whatever it all means, it’s one hell of a bargain for my money, and you’ll have to decide if there is finally a cinematic equivalent of too much of a good thing.