Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins is a pandemic-postponed prequel to the Hasbro/Larry Hama/once-Marvel/DIC Entertainment ("A Real American Hero"), cinematic franchise, or as some dare claim, a reboot. It's directed by Robert Schwentke and written by Evan Spiliotopoulos, Joe Shrapnel and Anna Waterhouse, all of whom achieve success by giving the concept a scrupulous spin with a spirited heart.
In previous, cinematic Joe lore, the titular, anti-Cobra commando was performed by Ray (Darth Maul) Park, but is now represented by Henry Golding within a coming-to-be phase. Golding adds tiers to the cryptic, action-figure persona, depicting the Joe favorite as a revenge-ridden man who must press hard to attain his mythic categorization.
We learn that Snake Eyes, who doesn't sport an attribution beyond the evident alias (btw: the name springs from a moment of childhood trauma), is a super-skilled martial artist, who ascends to an even higher level while training with the Arashikage, a bygone ninja sect. That his crackerjack mentor, Storm Shadow (Andrew Koji), is also his pal (and a man whose life he saved, or so circumstances seem to convey) helps the progression, but friends can sometimes turn adversarial, as Joe aficionados well know.
In the process of the leads' predestined clash, a distinction of good and bad is drawn, not only through the movie's many melees (some of which overflow with immense mysticism), but by the aesthetic inclusion of Cobra's cunning Baroness (Ursula Corbero) and Snake Eyes' rising ally, Scarlett (Samara Weaving): converse staples who, to say the least, are pleasing to behold and more than hold their own with the guys. (They'd fit without a hitch in Black Widow or for that matter, any Bond epic.)
The overriding beauty, however, is Akiko (Haruka Abe), who brings a voice of reason to the often perplexing proceedings, which in turn complements the graceful path of the Blind Master (Peter Mensah), who combines a little of Gandalf with Yoda for his lesson plans.
These two, in turn, stand in stark contrast to the evil Kenta (Takehiro Hira), a suave, scary opponent with the self-serving need to throw all balance asunder. Indeed, balance, or the admonitory lack of it, is Snake Eyes' recurring theme.
As Snake Eyes finds his way, choosing one side over the other, visceral visuals keep viewers enthralled (the mega-anaconda sequences are gripping as hell), and Bojan Bazelli's opulent photography and Martin Todsharow's potent score augment the pulse-pounding exploits from start to mid-credits finish.
In the end, Snake Eyes becomes the cloak-and-dagger emblem that Joe fans desire, but with a build-up that gives the icon an unprecedented buckle. Will some purists feel betrayed by this backdrop dimension? Perhaps, but for the sake of leading the charge for an intended string of origin chapters, depth is more practical than presenting a constant, spectral figure. The latter might click to create the proverbial, stoic teammate, but as a headliner, Snake Eyes works better when he reveals what lurks beneath his steely stealth. Kudos to the conscientious filmmakers for hitting that right (ahem) balance.
