Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins’ on Paramount+, a Dead-on-Arrival Franchise Reboot That Henry Golding Can’t Save

Now on Paramount+, Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins reboots a film series that’s been moribund since 2013’s G.I. Joe: Retaliation, and takes pains to reestablish the 1980s toy-based IP as the latest post-Marvel mega-crossover franchise — although its recent super floparoo at the theatrical box office might have just nuked any hopes of future films. So it goes, in spite of roping in Crazy Rich Asians breakout star Henry Golding to play the titular Snake Eyes, who was easily the coolest character in the whole toy line/comic book series/cartoon-slash-toy-commercial, because he wore all black and carried an uzi and was also totally a frickin’ ninja. So did the movie deserve such a fate? That’s why you’re reading this, right?

SNAKE EYES: G.I. JOE ORIGINS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: LET IT HERETOFORE BE KNOWN that the first scene in the final trailer for this film, in which Snake Eyes (Golding) snaps down his visor in preparation for some hot ‘n’ salty fighting action, is actually the last scene. He does not wear his iconic-to-dorkoids-of-a-certain-vintage gear in every preceding scene, because why cover up Henry Golding’s face? He’s a star now, and on top of that, the mystery of Snake Eyes, the primary sweet-ass trait of the character (for dorkoids of a certain vintage), is kaputskies because this movie tells us how he came to be so sweet. I lead with this as a warning, perhaps, although mostly directed to dorkoids of a certain vintage (and I am one of them).

Anyway. We meet Snake Eyes as a child (Max Archibald), when his father is killed by evil fartwads for reasons that the movie eventually will get around to revealing, almost certainly after lots of fights and sweet ninja shit — and also showing us how he got the name Snake Eyes. And so young Snake Eyes vows revenge against the men who made him an orphan. Twenty years later, Snake Eyes does what any psychologically dubious person consumed by vengeance and who’s significantly beefed up his butt-kicking skills would do: clobber goons in illicit MMA fights in underground thunderdomes until nobody will bet against him, then move to the next town and find a new underground thunderdome so he can do it again. It’s a living, I guess. One day, a Los Angeles Yakuza honcho recruits him on a promise to find his father’s murderer. He reluctantly agrees, and spends his days stuffing giant dead fish with guns, thus making them easier to smuggle. The guns, I mean, not the fish. On another one day, a fight breaks out because one of the Yakuza dudes is a snitch, and smack in the middle of the choppa-lotta brouhaha, Snake Eyes decides that working for the bad guys is all kinds of bad mojo, and sides with the snitch, helping him escape.

The snitch happens to be Tommy Arashikage (Andrew Koji), a very rich guy whose influential Tokyo clan has beef with the Yakuza, and consists of a whole crapload of super-sweet ninja, and possesses a magic gem that “contains the power of the sun,” and has a big deep pit housing… well, nevermind, I’m straying from the point here, which is that Snake Eyes joins them, and learns how to fight like a ninja from the Arashikage masters. Tommy introduces our protagonist to clan leader Sen (Eri Ishida), the Blind Master (Peter Mensah), the — don’t giggle — Hard Master (Iko Uwais) and clan security chief Akiko (Haruka Abe), all of whom wonder if this brash, stoopide Americain has what it takes to be even a half-sweet ninja. And so, he must face “the three challenges of the warrior,” each one unintentionally funnier than the previous.

We get some training sequences, and mystical ninja crapola (eventually, but not soon enough, involving the good, sharp weapons), fights with guys with swords and fedoras, car/motorcycle chase action bits, the eventual involvement of familiar franchise characters Scarlett (Samara Weaving) and the Baroness (Ursula Corbero), and a scene in which Snake Eyes spars with Akiko which could be interpreted as foreplay, what with all the sexual tension between them, and the thrusting of poles (she also calls him simply “Snake” — yowza!). The plot essentially gets into the three challenges then goes whoops, we forgot about Snake Eyes’ vow of vengeance, then gets into the vow of vengeance, and then whoops again, what about the three challenges, and gets back to the three challenges. We’re essentially stuck in the middle with him, and these two whiplashing plots will eventually merge into one big kerflooey. And this is where we zip up and treat spoilers like ANCIENT NINJA SECRETS.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The last time a big-franchise spinoff sucked eggs this hard was X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

Performance Worth Watching: This movie is a classic case of horrible dialogue handcuffing its cast by forcing them to say crap like, “They call you Snake Eyes, yet you’re always winning!” and “You should have killed me when you had the chance!” Thankfully for Golding, he has the fewest moronic lines, so I guess his performance is worth watching, because if you’re watching this movie, you gotta be watching something.

Memorable Dialogue: Tommy, on Snake Eyes ninja training: “You will be tested. You will be hurt. You will suffer. And you will fail. But the hardest part will be listening to you complain about it.”

Sex and Skin: Akiko and “Snake” (yowza!) never get beyond the sparring stage because this is essentially an overly violent children’s movie.

Our Take: Welp, director Robert Schwentke (the Divergent series, ugh) has not broken precedent and made a good G.I. Joe movie. The previous two do indeed exist, as I have seen them, but remember almost nothing about them — something about “the Nanobite Wars” and The Rock, and an extended Bruce Willis cameo. Did anybody watch these movies a second time? Hell, not many of you watched them a first time, and life goes on.

In concept, Snake Eyes doesn’t lack allure (to etc. of a yada-yada vintage and all that), because Back In The Day, he was a badass who covered his face, carried a sword and didn’t speak, and if you needed someone to beat some ninja at their own ninja game, he was your ninja. But here, the character’s appeal has been peeled away and all that remains is a bland banana, he said, immediately regretting what he just typed. And so we’re left with Golding, who absolutely has the actorly muscle to elevate such proceedings, but Schwentke and a puerile script give him one thing to do, and no room to do anything else, because there are generic action sequences they need to get to. Generic action sequences like a borderline-comprehensible car chase in which the heroes and villains end up fighting atop a car carrier, and as always happens in these movies, the driver of the car carrier just keeps barreling along at top speed, never even considering maybe pulling over, even when a character hijacks one of the cars and crashes it off the back end and spins it around backwards so it can go reallyreallyreally fast in reverse for no discernible reason. Why doesn’t the driver stop the truck, Bart? WHY DOESN’T HE STOP THE TRUCK?

The film frequently inspires the question, Why are they fighting again? The only answer is, because we apparently want to see them fight. I might add, it definitely would be better if we could actually see them better, and maybe discern one character from another in these fights, which aim to thrill but are so frequent and executed with such uninspired direction, I often felt my attention slipping away, along with some precious moments of my life, like sands through the hourglass. The less said about the characters, the better — I’ve propped up dead, lifeless action figures in more charismatic poses, and at least they carried with them the potential of an eight-year-old’s playtime imagination. That eight-year-old would roll his eyes at this junk, and I would know, because that eight-year-old is still inside me, hoping for a sweet-ass G.I. Joe movie that has yet to come.

Our Call: SKIP IT. I want you to know that Snake Eyes stinks. AND KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.