Three stars. Rating: PG-13, despite considerable intense violence, profanity and lurid sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.21.14
In theory, teaming French action
filmmaker Luc Besson and American action director Joseph McGinty Nichol — who
prefers the nom de guerre “McG” — should produce the perfect cinematic
marriage.
The former is a one-man movie
machine well known for (among many others) La Femme Nikita, Jason Statham’s Transporter series and Liam Neeson’s Taken series; the latter is perhaps
notorious for the two big-screen Charlie’s Angels entries and 2009’s Terminator Salvation.
Assuming your desires extend no
further than noisy, attitude-laden eye candy, what could possibly go wrong when
these two fellas get together?
Clashing sensibilities, of
course.
3 Days to Kill — directed by
McG, written by Besson and Adi Hasak — proudly displays its comic book tone
right up front, as veteran CIA agent Ethan Renner (Kevin Costner) and a sizable
team prepare to capture nasty international terrorists laughably known only as
The Albino (Tómas Lemarquis) and The Wolf (Richard Sammel). The operation goes
awry, and the baddies get away, much to the annoyance of CIA handler Vivi Delay
(Amber Heard), sent by Washington to monitor the situation.
Worse yet, Ethan gets rather bad
news while recuperating from injuries sustained during this fiasco: a diagnosis
of advanced terminal cancer that’ll kill him in a few months. Not that this
will stop any of the action to come; just as Ali MacGraw became more radiantly
beautiful, the sicker she got in 1970’s Love Story, ol’ Ethan loses none of
his flair for beating up on baddies twice his size and half his age.
Even so, he’s tired and
discouraged, and wants to spend his remaining time with his ex-wife, Christine
(Connie Nielsen), and long-estranged teenage daughter, Zoey (Hailee Steinfeld),
both living in Paris. But catching up on a decade’s worth of missed birthdays
and youthful milestones isn’t easy, and Zoey isn’t about to cut him any slack.
On top of which, Vivi rather
inexplicably wants Ethan to finish the botched pursuit of The Albino and The
Wolf. I say “inexplicably” because Vivi clearly has the resources, the ruthless
attitude and the improbable skills necessary to complete the assignment
herself, likely in half the time.
As conceived and audaciously
played by Heard, Vivi is equal parts Marvel Comics’ Black Widow, Sidney Bristow
(from TV’s Alias) and strip club lap dancer. Why waste time with the dying
Ethan, who’s obviously — in Vivi’s mind — long past his sell-by date?
Well, because the script says so.
And, so, Vivi “encourages” Ethan
into this one final mission, dangling the promise of an experimental drug that
could delay his imminent death. Understanding that this could mean more time
with his daughter, Ethan reluctantly agrees.
Which, of course, runs counter to
the promise he gave Christine, to give up the spy biz.
The resulting blend of
action-laden spy craft and family melodrama remains reasonably entertaining
much of the time, particularly with respect to Ethan’s personal life. Bad
enough that Zoey wants nothing to do with him; he returns to his long-unused
Parisian apartment to discover that a large family of squatters has taken up
residence ... and it seems French law prevents him from evicting them during
the cold winter months.
(That’s not fiction. The right to
housing is constitutional in France: Squatters who occupy a space for more than
48 hours cannot be evicted, but must instead be sued by the property owner,
which can take months.)
Besides which, the family’s cheerful
paternal spokesman (Eriq Ebouaney) explains that his very pregnant daughter is
days away from giving birth. Could Ethan be so hard-hearted as to toss these
loving folks out onto the street, particularly when the youngest boy takes such
an instant shine to him? Of course not.
That sort of droll supporting
character detail is classic Besson, as is the Middle Eastern limo driver who,
despite being a link to The Wolf, becomes valuable for his understanding of how
teenage daughters think and act; and the Italian accountant who cooks The
Wolf’s books, while also sharing precise details about his mother’s famed
spaghetti sauce, which Zoey needs in order to impress her boyfriend.
Then there’s the matter of the
very purple bicycle that Ethan gets for Zoey, which she naturally hates; and
the fact that she programs his phone to play a particularly harsh ring tone
every time she calls him. This becomes the film’s best and funniest running
gag: Every time Ethan’s about to administer another dose of whup-ass, the phone
goes off. The baddies smile indulgently and wait patiently, as he answers with
a “Honey, can I call you right back?”
All this stuff is quite amusing,
and well integrated with the gritty, authentic stunt work that McG prefers to
CGI fakery. The hand-to-hand melees are deftly assembled by the film’s fight
choreographers and edited by Audrey Simonaud, and the a furious car chase
through Parisian streets — inspired by similar sequences in Claude Lelouch’s Rendezvous and John Frankenheimer’s Ronin — is damn impressive.
Unfortunately, the film falls
apart every time Heard’s Vivi reappears. Her femme fatale act quickly becomes
tiresome, as do her slutty attempts to get Ethan into her pants. Her dangled
doses of “the miracle cure” also are irritating, particularly since this
so-called wonder drug seems worse than Ethan’s advancing illness. Eventually,
we cannot accept the fact that various baddies take such a long time to
react to Ethan’s frequent dizzy spells and loss of consciousness.
Even in a script this contrived,
that’s one absurd detail too many.
His fainting spells
notwithstanding, the attractively scruffy Costner is reasonably persuasive as
this world-weary spy. It’s a welcome return to a starring role clearly shaped to
his talents, after equally enjoyable supporting roles in Man of Steel and Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit. There’s no denying Costner’s easy charm, and he
knows precisely how to use his mocking half-smile.
Steinfeld, still making good on
the promise she displayed in 2010’s remake of True Grit, deftly blends
petulance and vulnerability as the rebellious Zoey. Films of this nature don’t
demand much in the way of true dramatic chops, but Steinfeld nonetheless makes
Zoey feel reasonably authentic. She also shares some touching father/daughter
scenes with Costner, notably when Ethan teaches Zoey how to ride that bicycle,
and how to slow-dance.
I’ve already dispensed with
Heard, who belongs in a different movie. Nielsen isn’t terribly convincing as
Christine, her performance wavering between flat and awkward. Marc Andréoni is
a hoot as the aforementioned limo driver, who becomes Ethan’s rather reluctant
confidant; the unlikely dynamic here is similar to the relationship Jason
Statham’s Frank Martin shares with François Berléand’s French cop, Inspector
Tarconi.
Bruno Ricci is similarly amusing
as Guido, the nervous accountant with the scrumptious spaghetti sauce recipe.
(Truthfully, it sounds delicious; I should have taken notes.)
Such lighter moments aside, this
film is filled with violent skirmishes, lethal gunfire and body-mangling
crashes and explosions, all of which make a complete mockery of the (supposed)
family-friendly PG-13 rating. I mean, come on; one of Ethan’s colleagues, early
on, gets decapitated by a descending elevator (The Albino’s handiwork).
Granted, the actual impact occurs off-camera, but we still get the ghastly
crunch.
Then there’s the matter of Vivi’s
carnal tastes, and her fondness for strip clubs.
Comic book sensibilities notwithstanding,
this flick deserves an R ... and the fact that the idiots staffing the MPAA’s
ratings board let so much violence slide, merely demonstrates anew how unfairly
arbitrary their so-called standards can be.
None of which matters, of course,
to adults wishing some popcorn thrills. 3 Days to Kill could have been
better, given a tighter script and a smoother meeting of the minds between
Besson and McG, but it’s still a diverting guilty pleasure.
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