Category Archives: action

RED

Hollywood frequently seems to be having the movie equivalent of a key party. Two or three movies in as many months will turn up at the local cinema with the same high concept. This season’s exemplars are The Expendables and RED.

We’ve seen both, and both are more enjoyable than the reviews lead me to believe.

A bunch of guys with large caliber machine guns show up in the middle of a night at Bruce Willis’s house in Cleveland but Bruce is too good to be taken out so easily. He heads to Kansas City to pick up Mary Louise Parker, since he believes she’s in just as much danger. Despite the fact that Willis is a retired CIA agent nag Parker just a pension plan call center phone rep with a cute voice.

The appeal here isn’t the plot, which is reasonably serviceable given the source is a graphic novel, but the pure old pro action comedy skills of an all-star cast. Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren, John Malkovich, Richard Dreyfus, Brian Cox and Willis just slice through this like butter, ably abetted by Karl Urban, Julian McMahon, Rebecca Pidgeon and Parker.

One scene early on, where Willis puts a cop car into a spin, steps out mid-spin into a shooting stance without even noticing the car’s tail end missing by inches impressed me in the trailer. But I was even more impressed when I saw that the movie treated it as nothing special.

Director Robert Schwentke and writer Jon and Eric Hoeber worked the balance between camp and staying true to the spirit of the graphic novel. Besides the scene just mentioned, let’s just say that you have to be really special to use a machine gun as a baseball bat to smash a grenade 100 yards right at a guy who’s shooting at you!

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The A-Team

Joe Carnahan’s ‘re-imagining’ of the ’80s TV series keeps enough of the original to connect with the built-in audience and adds enough smarts to justify the big screen leap. This movie, for me, epitomizes the mindless summer action comedy with its combination of nonsensical conspiracy and improbable explosions–like the parachuting tank fighting off air force drone fighters–though never reaching the brilliance of Last Action Hero or True Lies.

Like many of the recent action hero/graphic novel movie adaptions this is an origin story: How did the A-Team come together and why are they fugitives? Which, by the way, the TV series never covered so we’re on pretty safe ground.

Acting: Bradley Cooper is turning out to be a surprisingly good romantic/comedy leading man, Liam Neeson is, well, a past master, mixed martial artist Quinton Jackson is fine in the quartet’s easiest role and Sharlto Copley shows his District 9 performance was not down to the director. Jessica Biel is wasted as the eye candy since she never really gets out of a baggy uniform, Brian Bloom (the evil private military contractor) and Maury Sterling (the first CIA agent called Lynch) chew up the villain roles and Gerald McRaney is, well, workman-like as the A-Team’s nominal commander.

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Kick-Ass

Saw this hit graphic novel adaptation last night with a buddy and walked out confused. One the one hand the script totally demolishes the normal human superhero genre (such as Batman), delivers some great laughs, captures the teenage condition almost too realistically and blasts some terrific action sequences. On the other hand a lot of those great action sequences involve an 11 year old girl, which seems to cross a line for me and Roger Ebert. Ebert writes in the opening of his review:

“A movie camera makes a record of whatever is placed in front of it, and in this case, it shows deadly carnage dished out by an 11-year-old girl, after which an adult man brutally hammers her to within an inch of her life. Blood everywhere. Now tell me all about the context.”

On the other hand, Big Daddy is about the perfect role for Nicholas Cage. He plays the 11 year old’s father, a man destroyed by the lead criminal in Kick-Ass and now totally devoid of any emotion; a fleshly machine running a program building slowly towards a massive revenge.

Aaron Johnson does a terrific job as the lead character. I totally believe him as a kid naive and enthusiastic enough to buy an odd looking scuba suit and go out in public wearing it. And getting his nuts kicked in too–after his first stretch in the hospital you’d think he’d at least go for a few lessons at the local dojo, but no.

Chloe Moretz does fine as Hit-Girl, the little ball of death and destruction, though I question her parents decision to let her take the role–I’d question any parent who did. Maybe they thought the purple hair and raccoon mask would keep her from years of nightmares and therapy.

Matthew Vaughn (Layer Cake), who directed and co-wrote the film, does an excellent job translating the graphic novel to the screen. Leaving the theater I felt like it was only 30 minutes since the opening credits came on but on the other hand I was also feeling like I should take a shower.

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Next

Nicholas Cage has starred in many big action movies over the years but given his physical and emotional natures has been a poor choice for the roles (e.g., Gone in 60 Seconds, Face/Off, Con Air). Characters that are a bit on the quirky, self-conscious side are better fits (Matchstick Men, City of Angels, The Rock). This film, which does not require him to be strong or fast or even all that smart, turns out to be a good choice.

In Next Cage plays Chris Johnson, a man made nearly miserable by having been born with the strange talent to see about two minutes into his own future. He uses this skill to be a modestly successful Las Vegas magician and win just enough money to stay under the radar of the various casino bosses.

One night, though, he catches the eye of a security manager and needs his ability to barely escape (the unstated) unpleasantness that would surely follow being caught. On his way out, however, he bumps into a man who plans to rob the casino’s cash cage and shoot two people dead; his nature won’t allow him to skate by without stopping it from happening.

Somehow–the movie never explains this important fact–Johnson has also already come to the attention of FBI counterterrorist agent Callie Ferris (Julianne Moore) and a polyglot terrorist band who’ve smuggled a nuclear device into Los Angeles. Both are tracking him, though the baddies just want him out of the way and Ferris wants his help stopping them.

The last complication is Liz Cooper (Jessica Biel). For the first time in his life Johnson has seen one thing more than two minutes in the future: he sees Liz walking into a Vegas diner. And he sees it over an over again, to the point where he goes to said diner every morning at the time of his vision, since he doesn’t know the day. Finally she shows up and he uses his ability to ensure the perfect approach. They leave together.

Just ahead of the Feds and bad guys, as it happens. He’s already fallen for her and sure enough she falls for him (he cheats, of course). Then the downside of his emotional attachment becomes clear as the bad guys take Cooper hostage to get to Johnson.

This movie doesn’t require Cage to be a fighter or a genius, just to be overly aware and able to portray a man weary beyond his years, something he can do quite well. Think about how ‘old’ Chris Johnson’s brain must be, reliving so many moments in time until they come out just as he desires; two minutes over and over again.

Lee Tamahori, a Bond veteran (Die Another Day), has a good touch with the mix of special effects and action, not always showing all his down cards. The script, by Gary Goldman (Total Recall) and Jonathon Hensleigh (Die Hard With a Vengeance, Armageddon, The Punisher), muddles a bit more than one would like but decent overall. Honestly I’m a bit surprised that Next wasn’t a bigger hit since I think it’s a better movie than a number of Cage’s which were.

recommended

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Spartacus

This 1960 movie is one of those classics I’m willing to bet most people under the age of 60 have never watched but still feel they know all about. I admit I was one of them until the other day. Let me say upfront, I don’t really see the whole Spartacus as Christ thing, any more than I do for Neo in The Matrix trilogy; if this were so than the same would be true of the hero of nearly any straightforward epic story. But some people want to see such things anywhere they can.

Spartacus is a slave born a few decades before the aforementioned Christian savior in a north African Roman colony, where he’s spotted by gladiator trainer (Peter Ustinov, who won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar) and taken to Italy. Life is easier in Capua than in a Libyan mine but he still chafes under the rules and constraints imposed by his masters.

Then one day two leading Roman senators (Lawrence Oliver as the patrician Crassus and John Gavin as a young Juius Caesar) and their lady friends turn up at the school unexpectedly and want a show. The sniveling master is happy to oblige until the women insist the gladiators fight to the death, as is custom in Rome; he tries to convince them that doing so in the school would be a really bad idea but the arrogant women want what they want.

One shortcoming of Dalton Trumbo’s script for me is that Crassus never really understands that what he and his friends did that afternoon was the inciting incident of everything that came after, including his own downfall, the death of tens of thousands and the rise of Caesar. Even at the very end, when Crassus realizes who Spartacus is (since all the men captured with him famously stand up and say “I am Spartacus”), there’s no light of recognition.

Still, this is one of the best performances Kirk Douglas gave, Olivier is as terrific as ever, Ustinov is a very good shifty, sniveling, out for his own good Roman plebe, Jean Simmons is wonderful as Varinia, the Brittanic slave who immediately falls for Spartacus (and vice versa, to be sure), Charles Laughton punches his weight as Crassus’s populist political opponent and John Ireland a strong right arm to Douglas.

The movie was also a triumph for writer Dalton Trumbo. He was nearly destroyed by the McCarthy blacklist, the most prominent member of the Hollywood 10, and Spartacus was the first credit he got after that dark era ended. He worked for another decade after this, giving us the scripts for Exodus and Papillon before passing away in 1976.

This film was also the first really big hit directed by Stanley Kubrick, whose next four pictures were the phenomal Lolita, Doctor Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange. Kubrick realized the epic scope of his story required grandiose outdoor settings but he skillfully navigated the line between tasteful and the campiness embraced by contemporaries like Cecille DeMille. He didn’t shy away from visuals that studio execs probably objected to, such as the crucifixions of the captured rebels which lined the army’s road back to Rome.

recommended

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Shoot 'Em Up

After a career mostly spent writing children’s animated dinosaur movies and writing and directing fluffy romantic pics, Michael Davis steps up and, in my book, scores a near bullseye with a misunderstood satire of the recent Jason Stathem/Vin Diesel ultra-violent anti-hero thrillers.

Clive Owen is Smith, the anti-hero at the core of Shoot ‘Em Up, and, as he did in Children of Men, shows why he was most everyone’s first choice to be the current Bond (even though Daniel Craig was fine too). He faces off against henpecked hitman Hertz (Paul Giamatti, taking his cues off Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Mission: Impossible III global bad guy) attempting to protect a beautiful whore (the beyond gorgeous Monica Belluci) and an infant whose mother died in Smith’s arms.

How does Davis turn the cartoon-level violence on its head? For starters, Smith’s signature killing move is driving a carrot through an opponent’s eye–and having Smith, a real invisible man further off the radar than Gene Hackman’s character in Enemy of the State, actually grow his own carrots in the vacant building in which he squats. That’s what I call a whole ‘nother level.

In the current batch of one man going up against an army of killers movies, the protagonist somehow evades multiple fusillades of bullets but Owen and Belluci take this to ridiculous heights in Shoot ‘Em Up, with two confrontations towards the end, one in Smith’s squat and the other where Owen tracks Giamatti to his client and attacks their lair. The idea that his aim–and luck–is so much better than every single one of the baddies’, well, I just have to laugh.

Warning: Though this is decidedly a satire, and a high-grade one, I want to be clear that bullets and blood are onscreen in massive quantities.

recommended

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Lucky Number Slevin

Paul McGuigan takes an American spin on the gangster revenge flick he did so well a half decade earlier in Gangster No. 1. The result here is good but while it is no doubt funnier lacks the vicious edge that put the 2001 movie over the top. You will want to pay close attention, though, as almost nothing is as it seems.

Lucky Number Slevin has quite the cast. Josh Hartnett is the title character, Bruce Willis is a veteran mob hitman called Goodkat(?), Morgan Freeman and Ben Kingsley are partners turned rival gangsters called The Boss and The Rabbi (yes, Kingsley’s character really is a rabbi), Stanley Tucci is an NYPD detective, Mykelti Williamson is a dimwitted henchman, Danny Aiello has a cameo as a bookie, Robert Forster a cameo as one of Tucci’s colleagues and Lucy Liu is her usual sexy, gregarious self as Slevin’s accidental love.

The plot is a black humor twist of Hitchcock’s mistaken identity classic, North by Northwest, with Slevin standing in for Cary Grant’s Roger Thornhill and Liu for Eva Marie Saint. Writer Jason Smilovic doesn’t leave the comparison to chance and has Kingsley’s character talk about taking his immigrant father to see it. But while we viewers know from the start that Slevin Kelevra is not the Nick Fisher the others seem to think, well, like I said at the top nothing is as it seems; Lucky Number has onion-like layers, an Outback Steakhouse Bloomin’ Onion, fried and big and greasy and still so tasty.

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Smokin' Aces

Writer/director Joe Carnahan (the less than stellar Narc) was apparently going for a parody of an early ’70s, semi-blaxsploitation type of movie, with plenty of carnage and characters so stereotyped they could have come from Ralph Bakshi’s animation studio in a setup more cliched than the Spy Kids trilogy. He almost made it work, too, until a jarring turn to the serious at the climax nearly ruined all his good work.

Jeremy Piven is Vegas entertainer and friend of the mob Buddy “Aces” Israel and the title refers to a rumor that dying mafia chieftain Primo Sparazza wants his last act to be rubbing out Israel, with a $1 million bounty. See Buddy’s gotten a little too close to his criminal pals and crossed over into active participation, and when he gets caught decides to trade his inside knowledge for a free pass.

From the large cast, a few performances stand out. Ryan Reynolds and Ray Liotta are FBI agents, partners sent to get Aces from his Reno penthouse hideout as soon as the ink is dry on his deal. Alicia Keys and Davenia McFadden are a beautiful pair of hitters (and lovers); McFadden gets the biggest gun of all, a .50 caliber she sets up in a room in a hotel across the street facing Aces’ suite. Joel Edgerton is an assassin whose stock in trade is a mastery of disguise and mimicry, his Hugo about as different from his lead role in Kinky Boots (which is another one I missed writing up!) as I can imagine.

A 2.5 for the humor and confident action of the first 90 minutes. Points off for the last 15 minutes as well as driving home Buddy Israel’s sleaziness well beyond the necessary.

modestly recommended, if you like this kind of thing.

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Banlieue 13 (District B13)

Garret recommended this 2004 French action flick months ago but it just turned up on On Demand. If you saw the Daniel Craig Casino Royale last year, remember the opening sequence where Bond chases a man through an African city and that action style, known as Parkour, came from this movie and specifically from David Belle. When I saw that Luc Besson co-wrote the script there was no question but to watch it right away.

Belle co-stars in Banlieue 13 with Cyrill Rafaelli, Bibi Naceri and Dany Verissimo; Naceri co-wrote the script with Besson and Pierre Morel directed. Honestly, though the movie was subtitled, I could have enjoyed the movie nearly as much with no dialog since the plot was ridiculous, anti-government paranoia mashed up with a drugs gang, and only serves as a minimal framework from which the action sequences were hung.

In Paris three years from now (six after the picture was released) the government has erected walls around the worst crime districts of the city and cut off all services to those left within. Taha (Naceri), a crime boss, is turned over the police on the last day before they pull out completely by Leito (Belle) but the cops arrest Leito and turn his hot younger sister Lola (Verissimo) to Taha’s tender care. Somehow Taha’s crew captures a neutron bomb in transit, so the Feds send in Police Captain Tomaso (Rafaelli) with Leito, liberated from prison, as his guide. Taha has turned little sis into his drug-addled slave, so that’s his motivation.

Anyway, the real treat from this movie is, as I said, the action and so visual I’m not sure I can describe it well with a few words. Parkour is a stunning combination of gymnastics, running and a sort of boxing-oriented martial arts fighting style; you can watch this movie and easily be thinking that a lot of the more acrobatic moves are done with wires. But you’d be thinking wrong as everything was done by the performers.

Imagine a track meet, a bunch of sprinters who hate each other and instead of running around a gravel circle they race through and across buildings and alleys. They jump over bannisters to go up and down stairwells, barely break stride as they leap from rooftop to rooftop, run right onto and over cars coming straight at them. Throwing nasty punches and kicks, dodging trucks and scaling fences along the way. At full speed!

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Eastern Promises

Star Viggo Mortensen and director David Cronenberg reteam for this alternative musing on the same thoughts behind their 2005 film A History of Violence (which I saw but apparently forget to write up here). Maybe it’s the improvement from having done this before, changing the setting from rural America to London’s urban core, that the sympathetic innocent is Naomi Watts rather than Mortensen, or that the capacity for violence of Mortensen’s character is not ever concealed, but I prefer Eastern Promises to the first movie. Maybe Steven Knight (Dirty Pretty Things) is just a better writer than Josh Olson.

A teenage girl, who speaks no English, dies giving birth to a daughter and a hospital midwife called Anna Khitrova (Watts) takes home the girl’s diary looking for clues to her identity. The writing seems to be Russian and Anna’s uncle Stepan is a Russian emigre, but he and her mother give her grief about it so she goes to the restaurant whose card was inside the diary.

There Anna meets Semyon (Armin Muller-Stahl), the owner, who agrees to take a look at the photocopy of the diary. He’s also, it turns out, patriarch of a family which belongs to the Vory V Zakone, a Russian mafia variant, and the girl was a prostitute who belonged to him. Nikolai Luhzin (Mortensen) is one of his soldiers, working for Semyon’s son Kirill (Vincent Cassell, familiar to US audiences as Clooney’s rival thief The Fox in the Ocean’s 11 movies), though he introuces himself to the pretty Anna as “just a driver.”

Just as in History of Violence, family is the fulcrum on which all else balances. Semyon and Kirill bring Nikolai into theirs–during the scene where he becomes a ‘made’ man the Vory V Zakon leaders insult Nikolai’s real parents and require that he renounce them–and Anna risks not only her own safety but her family’s as well.

The plot is dense, much of it delivered through the emotional tones of the actors’ performances and Knight supplies a number of twists that elevate Promises above the philosophical trap into which Cronenberg might have easily been snared. Plus, you need to remember this is a David Cronenberg movie and that means you won’t walk out without a shuddering over a few gruesome scenes; here he uses throat cuttings, perhaps attempting through repetition to push through the instinctive disgust to find a deeper meaning.

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