How do you solve a problem like Ender Wiggin? For years it seemed as though Orson Scott Card's 1985 science fiction classic Ender's Game would never see a multiplex. It features not only disconcertingly violent children, but ones who do battle in a zero-gravity battle room that once would have seemed impossible to film. It also happens to couch its strongest messages – the power of the individual, steadfast humanism, the value of intent over action – in pockets of nuance between white-knuckle action pieces. In short, it has a lot going on – maybe too much for one film.
Considering the problem at hand, writer/director Gavin Hood's version of Ender's Game, like perhaps Cloud Atlas before it, is probably the best film version of the book possible – for better or worse. Hood's film strips the story about children socially engineered to lead a war against an alien race down to its core, and while the movie version is more sizzle than steak, it does have moral and emotional meat on its bones. Just not enough. If you're looking for a faithful adaptation, there's plenty to chew on, even if there are nits to pick for those that want to find them (the term "email" – not present in Card's book and probably antiquated by Ender's time – feels awfully out of place, for starters).
When we first meet Andrew Ender Wiggin (*Hugo'*s Asa Butterfield) he's handily winning a videogame played on an iPad-like device against another young boy. When the kid comes back for a more physical rematch, Ender again wins decisively. Later, when asked why he kept kicking the boy after he was down, Ender replies, "I wanted to win all the next ones too."
This level of cold calculation in the teary eyes of a child is exactly what Colonel Hyrum Graff (Harrison Ford) and Major Anderson (Viola Davis) were hoping for. "It was a strategy to stop future attacks," notes Graff, a military leader determined to win the war against the aliens known as Formics (gone is their nickname "Buggers" from the book). Ender's previous two siblings had been deemed unable to go to Graff's Battle School; his older brother was Peter too brutal and his sister Valentine too soft. But Ender – a "Third" child rarely permitted in this future's form of population control – is perfect. He possesses the traits embodied by both his siblings, a combination that allows him to strike a death blow when necessary and weep about it later.
This dichotomy follows him into Graff and Anderson's Battle School, an off-Earth training center where scores of gifted children are sent to train for the alien wars in a zero-G Battle Room by shooting at each other with laser guns. And thanks to the sort of CGI that has become commonplace in Hollywood films, this world finally comes to life on the big screen. Ender's Game is not Gravity, but it is nonetheless stunning. It's easy for the audience to feel just as in awe of the school's space station as Ender is. Card's novel – for all of its in-depth reporting on Ender's internal struggles – leaves a lot to the imagination, but along with Tron: Legacy production designers Sean Haworth and Ben Procter, Hood builds a stunning visual palette that never feels unreal.
From the moment Ender heads off to Battle School, the movie picks up speed and never stops. The fast momentum makes for a thrilling ride, but it's hard not to wonder how Ender proves himself as a savior in what feels like a few weeks/days and two major face-offs. It's also a blood-letting in terms of character development. Gone are the book's struggles – both internal and external – between Ender and both his fellow soldiers and the school brass. He no longer sullenly walks alone through the Battle School halls, but instead exerts his quiet dominance through knowing looks and grins to the fellow students who want to hitch their wagon to a star.
Card's initial screenplay was even "a buddy-movie approach," he told WIRED, with Battle School cadet Bean as Ender's confidant. Hood used a similar concept in his screenplay, but made another cadet, Petra (Hailee Steinfeld), the one who helps Ender learn how to shoot in the Battle Room and stands at his side against the bullying of his platoon (or "toon") leader, Bonzo. Even through Graff speaks of keeping Ender isolated, aside from a lonely lunch or two this isolation is never really seen. The only real insight we get into Ender's emotional state is narrated by Major Anderson, who also seems to be the only one willing to comment on the fact that training children to fight a war might be just a little bit morally bankrupt, regardless of Graff's justifications.
What Ender's Game has lost in heart, it attempts to make up for with lushly filmed battles to fill the void, scored by Transformers composer Steve Jablonsky. It's not a fair trade, but for a film that wants to be an all-ages sci-fi blockbuster, it feels like a necessary evil. And by the time we've hurtled through Battle School and into Ender's promotion to Command School, it's easy to forget there was even an emotional struggle at all. After meeting Mazer Rackham (an awkwardly compelling Ben Kingsley in a Maori face tattoo), the pilot who defeated the Formics in war once before, Ender begins the series of endless battle simulations that lead to the story's epic climax, which – without spoiling it for those who haven't read it – will likely please those that have.
That doesn't mean necessarily that Ender's Game is without soul, it just may not be enough. Ender's crisis of conscience – the event that leads Graff to take him back to Earth to see his sister Valentine (the largely unused Abigail Breslin) – is still there. And when he confesses that he loves his enemy right before he destroys them, the conflict in that made so many kids identify with him comes through, albeit briefly. Hood told WIRED those elements of empathy were important for him, particularly given the disconnect between the message many Ender's Game fans took from the story and the much-publicized homophobic personal views of Card.
"For me the great themes of the book were ... 'I better find a way to be tolerant, compassionate, empathetic, and empathize with people who are different than me,'" Hood said at this year's San Diego Comic-Con. "Then I find the author is now expressing these very, in my view, intolerant views — where did all of that empathy go?" He may not know where Card's empathy went, but he made sure it stayed in his film.
The influence of Card's views on the film's potential box office take has been mentioned in nearly every review, and it would be remiss not to mention it here. The purpose of a review is to provide criticism, yes, but also to inform readers as to whether or not a movie is worth their time and money. Many people opposed to Card's views – largely organized through the organization Geeks OUT – promised to boycott the film. (Card reportedly gets no cash from ticket sales, but those behind the boycott note poor box officer performance could dissuade studios from optioning other books by the author.) Others may simply find it hard to enjoy something that – even if a few steps removed – comes from the mind of someone with whom they disagree. Still others have suggested a variety of different ways to attempt to enjoy the movie – and celebrate the talents of its creators – while still objecting to its content.
But ultimately, it's nearly impossible to determine if the film is enjoyable enough to outweigh any person's level of distaste for Card. It's a shame any movie simply meant to entertain and inspire would face such a hurdle, but it's there regardless.
During a particularly heated confrontation between Ender and Graff, the colonel stipulates that winning is "all that matters." No, Ender retorts, it's not: "The way we win matters." Hood has done what he can to make an entertaining film that reinforces its source material's message of understanding. It's a perfectly good popcorn flick, but it lacks a depth that would raise it to the level of brilliant. Ender's Game picks its battles and wins some of them – it's up to viewers to decide whether that matters enough.
