Caught somewhere between a rethink of Black Panther fav Conquest of the Planet of the Apes and a blank slate junction for further simian sequels, Rise of the Planet of the Apes charts the captivity of wunderkind chimp, Caesar. Born to the star test subject of a glossy neuroscience conglomerate that specialises in pumping violence gas into higher primates, Caesar narrowly escapes a post-riot cull, becoming the surrogate infant in a household dealing with Alzheimer's. Although a human cast circles the edges, they never amount to anything more than gears and cogs. Who cares about soppy vets or greedy business buddies when you've got the King of the Apes spoiling for a scrap?
Andy Serkis's performance as Caesar is beguiling. Ostensibly mute, Serkis and Weta Digital communicate the chimp's ideas and mental state through expression; beginning as a fluid mix of movement and wide-eyed mooning, eventually developing into a regal frowner with a fixed, biped, posture. Caesar incessantly registers as intelligent, equally capable of mercy and malice. This is Rise's coup, it's Caesar's story. He is the centre. With Caesar estranged from his human family, the film's focus narrows to a mime acted prison break, with Caesar demolishing his rivals then conceptualising visual metaphors for collective action. He is the hero - Spartacus in a zoo - and you root for his victory. You want him to pulverise all the boring humans.
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