Aeon Flux

By Mark Ramsey | 2005/12/04

The first problem is a title nobody can pronounce. There I was in line behind a guy who, in his perplexity, asked for a ticket to “Arion Flux.” This was immediately translated by the crack box office droid who was not at all surprised that the request was for one ticket only.

The second problem is a potential audience characterized by the guy a few rows to my right: A magnificent bulbous belly sheathed in a helplessly form-fitting t-shirt – except for the football-sized puncture right where the navel is supposed to aeonflux_blinds.jpg

be when it isn’t buried under enough flesh to hide the lost city of Atlantis.

The third problem, of course, is the movie itself, and by itself is where Aeon Flux should have stayed.

This movie skipped the traditional critics’ screening because, well, who are we kidding? Normally, a film of this caliber features a badly animated saber-tooth tiger and David Keith in safari gear. Unfortunately for Charlize Theron, David must be busy signing Officer and a Gentleman lobby cards or installing replacement windows.

It’s the future.

A future with neither freedoms nor NASCAR merchandise, and I think I speak for many when I say I don’t know which is worse.

99% of the world has been killed by a fatal virus, and the remaining 1% probably smoked like chimneys, with my luck. Evidently, the survivors took their personal style from a German modernist disco! This must be that future where The Cure is still cranking out hits.

There is injustice being done, so Charlize slides into a black catsuit and fights for freedom and against underwear: “I shall liberate the populace from panty lines!” she exclaims as she double-somersaults, dodging blizzards of gunfire without a scratch, without a stray hair, and most of all, without a shred of shame.

“I had a family once, I had a life. Now all I have is a mission,” says Charlize, “a mission to send the audience rushing from the theater in droves.”

Charlize’s arch-enemy is the Goodchild regime which, like all good regimes, rules by bickering in a cavernous room, but unlike all good regimes boasts really expensive hair.

To get to Goodchild, however, Charlize will need to change into her white catsuit: Beware acrobatic avengers dressed in white, especially after Labor Day!

To get this job done, Charlize will have to team up with a partner so committed to the cause she modified her feet and replaced them with another pair of hands. No, that’s not a joke, unless you count the one on the audience. aeonflux_water.jpg

Madame, if it’s a second pair of hands you need, BRING A FRIEND!

“It’s so I can grip weapons better,” she says. “And kick, er – casually man-handle – some ass!”

“But isn’t it easier to run on feet than on hands?” asks Charlize.

“I knew I should have had the wheels installed instead!”

Charlize is on her own now, but she has mad skills: She can command tiny balls to do her bidding! “How do you think I got an Oscar?” she said.

She shakes her hips like they’re firing off box-office piercing bullets. But despite her best efforts she is captured and placed in a cell…with a glass of water! Oh the deplorable conditions!

But what’s in the water? Aha! Luckily, Charlize stows a forensic testing kit in her shoe, which is why her heel must be in an upright and locked position before her hips begin to sway down the runway.

In the climax (such as it is), Charlize must leap to a floating Goodyear blimp with bay window curtains hanging from its posterior. What possible aerodynamic benefit can be provided by toilet paper hanging from the ass of an airship?

I hope there’s enough toilet paper for the whole audience, because after Aeon Flux we’re going to need it.

Photos Copyright ©2005 Paramount Pictures

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