‘National Treasure’ is fool’s gold

You probably knew that “National Treasure” was going to be a preposterous movie as soon as you saw the trailers. Just look at the premise: a treasure hunter searches for an ancient Egyptian fortune that was recovered by the leaders of the American Revolution. They hid it in secrecy, but they left a map, which is invisibly inscribed on… wait for it… the Declaration of Independence.

Ridiculous, right?

For a while, “National Treasure” seems to play around with that absurdity; the actors look like they’re having fun with the hokey dialogue, and the plot takes a few too-silly turns that inspire some laughs. However, as the film proceeds, your smile will fade as you are hit with a stunning revelation: it’s trying to be dead serious. The filmmakers actually expect you to take this at face value.

The treasure hunter in question is Benjamin Franklin Gates (Nicolas Cage), descended from six generations of patriotically named nut jobs who spent their entire lives searching for the riches. With the help of Ian Howe (professional villain Sean Bean), Ben has finally located a clue to the treasure from within an abandoned ship filled with gunpowder. Through a riddle, it points to the Declaration of Independence to find the next hint.

Ian suggests that they travel to Washington and steal the document, which Ben readily rejects. Unfortunately, Ian is still rather fond of the idea, and one predictable explosion later, they part ways. Ben and his sidekick/insipid comic relief, Riley (Justin Bartha), must warn the government of the upcoming robbery. However, after being laughed off by National Archives employee Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), Ben decides the only course of action is to steal the Declaration himself. Now it’s a mad chase to find all of the clues before Ben’s enemies or the FBI catch up with him, and he manages to bring Riley, Abigail, and even his skeptical father, Patrick Henry Gates (Jon Voight), along for the ride.

Look any further into the plot and it will fall apart like a house of cards. Of course, suspension of disbelief is one of the most significant qualities needed to enjoy any film, but “National Treasure” pushes it to the limit and beyond. It seems so concerned with the preservation of history—Ben rattles off a number of obscure facts—and yet it fails at the level of basic high school education. For example, the clues to the treasure were largely created by Benjamin Franklin, but they also include the clock tower of Independence Hall, and what time it shows on a modern hundred dollar bill. One problem: the design on the bill wasn’t created until the 20th century. No wonder Gates’ ancestors had such a hard time finding the clues: Some of them didn’t exist yet!

These problems could all be ignored if “National Treasure” were exciting. The scenario, after all, is little more than an excuse to shoot action sequences in Washington DC, New York, and good old Philadelphia. You can’t blame them for that, because at first, the film follows through with some gripping instances of adventure. The actual heist of the Declaration is delightfully silly; the document’s bulletproof casing, with the document still inside, is literally used as a shield.

Unfortunately, the thrill tapers off considerably after those scenes, and the movie becomes an exercise in action clichés, complete with a boring car chase, a tired kidnapping scheme, and an underdeveloped romantic subplot to boot. Throw in a few life lessons and a predictably happy ending, and voilà, you have a cure for insomnia. The only way to stay awake is by counting the numerous logical mistakes therein.

Nicolas Cage is one of the finer actors of his generation, but not even his bemused exasperation as Ben can hide his poor judgment in picking scripts this time around. This film could have acknowledged the inherent silliness of the action-adventure genre, and everyone would have had more fun watching it. Unfortunately, it takes a well-traveled road, pretending that it’s completely original while making the audience wish they had rented “Raiders of the Lost Ark” instead. Calling “National Treasure” “entertainment” is like finding a coffee mug and calling it the Holy Grail.