Spoiler warnings have become a polite way to signal to the Internet that you are about to discuss an aspect of a film that viewers might prefer not to know before seeing the film. There is endless debate about this on the internet What is a spoiler and what needs to be warned?. But the question becomes even more complicated when a studio’s marketing for a film involves giving out spoilers.
It happens surprisingly often. Trailers are designed as sizzle reels, and trailers for action or effects-oriented films often include footage from the finale to sell a film around its biggest and most spectacular moments. Marketers often view a film’s big twist as a similarly spectacular draw: recently, all of the trailers and even the poster for the horror film have been released Abigail gave away a revelation that the film clearly intended to be a major narrative twist. Let’s look back further: marketers at James Cameron’s Terminator 2: Judgment Day were so focused on showcasing Arnold Schwarzenegger’s role that they built an entire marketing campaign around it which Cameron clearly intended as a big surprise midway through the film
The marketing for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes doesn’t feel as blatantly pernicious as these examples until you actually watch the film. However, in the search for a poster-worthy image, the film’s marketing team significantly undermined director Wes Ball and his writers’ intentions with the film’s story.
[Ed. note: Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes ahead — or at least, context that’ll make it clearer how you’ve probably already been exposed to the spoiler.]
Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes begins with the funeral of Caesar, the chimpanzee at the center of the Apes Revolution that began with the 2011 reboot of the Apes series Planet of the Apes: Prevolution. The plot then jumps forward “many generations” (300 years, according to 20th Century Studios), to a time when humanity is scattered and sparse, former human cities have become lush jungles, and monkey clans live in distinct communities. The protagonist Noa (Owen Teague) and his close friends Soona (Lydia Peckham) and Anaya (Travis Jeffery) belong to the Eagle Clan, a tribe of monkeys whose small society revolves around the birds of prey that they raise, train and with Build a bond.
Noa, Soona, and Anaya begin the film trying to collect eagle eggs for an upcoming ceremony where they will receive their own bonded birds. But after a catastrophe, Noa is separated from the others and travels with Sun, Noa’s father Koro’s eagle. Noa previously had a strained, longing relationship with both Koro and Sun. He believes that Sun is only traveling with him to mock and judge him for his perceived mistakes.
Throughout the film, Noa repeatedly either attempts to interact with Sun, which has violent consequences, or loudly rejects Sun’s presence out of guilt and shame. Noa literally spends this entire film I try to relate positively to this giant eagle, whose approval represents Koro’s approval and his legacy. It is clear that Noa connects his acceptance of masculinity and his place in the tribe with his attempts to form a bond with his father’s bird of prey. Their connection is at the heart of Noa’s entire character arc and is closely tied to the film’s climactic action scene.
And yet we saw this story arc end 30 seconds into the very first teaser Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes
The sun shining on Noa’s arm is the iconic image in the center kingdom‘s Marketing. It’s on the character posters, the movie posters, and the concept art. It is in the full trailers, on the T-shirtshell, even on pint glasses and on that AMC exclusive popcorn tin. You definitely won’t miss it if you’ve paid any attention to this film at all. Their bond was a selling point for the film from the start. And that’s incredible once you watch the film and see how much weight the story places on the question of whether they can ever make a connection.
The strange thing about this particular spoiler is that it doesn’t read as such when looking at the poster or a trailer. It just reads like a world-building detail: This particular group of monkeys practice falconry with eagles certain human tribes have done it in the past. It’s a mildly interesting reflection of the way a posthuman species has adopted some of humanity’s habits while deliberately abandoning others.
But after half an hour, it becomes clear that Ball and the writers expected the audience to become emotionally invested in the drama surrounding Noa and Sun’s relationship and Noa’s hurt and confusion about whether Sun will ever accept him. For those of us who watch trailers or movie posters, that question was answered six months ago.
Did we always know that these two crazy kids would finally get back together? Naturally. After all, this is a four-quadrant action blockbuster designed to give audiences a sense of triumph and catharsis. There has never been a version of the world in which the hero of this film never receives a reward for his journey, never completes his story arc, and never finds fulfillment after all his losses and changes. We could certainly all have expected Noa and Sun to make peace at some point.
If they were in conflict at all. A slightly sad aspect of this entire arc is that Noa clearly thinks that Koro finds him disappointing and looks down on him, but nothing about Koro’s behavior suggests that this is true. He seems to genuinely love his son and wants him to be happy. Koro isn’t a tyrant or a distant, domineering monkey, he’s just a clan elder with lots of other youths and eagles to watch out for. Their breakup seems to happen entirely in Noa’s head.
His problems with Sun similarly seem to stem more from shame and self-doubt than reality: it seems clear from the start that Sun shares Noa’s grief, that Sun leads the chimp to his lost tribe, and keeps trying to to turn to him for comfort and connection. But Noa’s fear, insecurity and anger hinder their relationship. They cannot form a bond until Noa lets go of some of these doubts and confidently moves forward to inherit his father’s legacy.
All of this should be a triumphant moment and the conclusion of an emotional, satisfying story arc. If only we hadn’t announced the end of this story on every poster and promotional image – long before we even knew what the story was Was.