3.5 stars. Rated R, for relentless profanity, crude sexual content and graphic nudity
By Derrick Bang
Well, color me surprised.
Far from the train wreck I
anticipated, Baywatch is an
unexpectedly entertaining take on the popular 1989-01 television series, which
became must-see TV throughout the world — in syndication — after being dumped
by NBC following a single season. (And boy, I’ll bet somebody’s head rolled
after that mistake.)
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| As Mitch (Dwayne Johnson, left) and Matt (Zac Efron) grow increasingly suspicious of the activity on a fancy yacht, they wonder if this might have something to do with the nefarious development scheme that threatens their beloved Emerald Bay. |
Mind you, we’re not talking
classic cinema here. But director Seth Gordon and his half dozen credited
writers keep their tongues firmly in cheek, and the result is an engaging blend
of snarky comedy, rat-a-tat repartee, improbable action, bonding melodrama and
— as was the case with the TV show — the ripped abs and barely zippered
pulchritude of unapologetic beefcake and cheesecake.
As guilty pleasures come, this
one’s shamelessly enticing.
Credit where due, Dwayne Johnson
has a lot to do with this film’s success. It’s not merely a matter of his
herculean feats of brawn, which we never tire of watching; he also knows how to
toss a glib one-liner. Johnson has undeniable charisma and presence, and enough
acting chops to navigate this sort of material. In a word, he’s fun ... and so is this film.
Johnson stars as veteran
lifeguard Mitch Buchannon, top dog of the team at Emerald Bay: a
well-recognized figure admired by all, who arrives early every morning to
patrol his busy stretch of beach. He’s assisted by Stephanie Holden (Ilfenesh
Hadera), his regimented, by-the-book second in command; and CJ Parker (Kelly
Rohrbach, a former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model), a free-spirited
lifeguard who keeps the zipper low on her halter top, and has the uncanny
ability to jog in slow motion (one of the film’s many running gags).
The summer season has just begun,
which means it’s time for tryouts for three open spots on the Baywatch team.
The hopefuls include the bookish, hyper-competent Summer Quinn (Alexandra
Daddario); and the awkward, slightly pudgy but stubbornly determined Ronnie
(Jon Bass), an Emerald Bay local taking his third stab at joining this elite
squad.
Much to Mitch’s displeasure, he’s
also forced to consider former Olympian Matt Brody (Zac Efron), a two-time gold
medalist — in solo events — who blew off his teammates in the relay event. Matt
has since devolved into a law-breaking, self-indulgent bad boy who still believes the world owes him a
living, despite having become a social media joke.
Mitch doesn’t want anything to do
with this arrogant loser, but his micro-managing boss (Rob Huebel) insists, believing
that adding Matt to the team could be a public relations gold mine.
No surprise: Summer, Ronnie and
(sigh) Matt win their place on the team. Cue the script’s first dramatic
conflict, as no-nonsense Mitch constantly butts heads with the smug, insubordinate
Matt, a dynamic that Johnson and Efron handle well. Another great running gag:
Mitch’s refusal to call Matt by name, instead referring to him via a seemingly
endless string of insultingly youthful, pop culture-oriented nicknames (one of
which, a quick throwaway, is guaranteed to raise a smile).
The Mitch/Matt warfare soon takes
a back seat to a much larger problem: Little packets of a new and potentially
lethal designer drug have been washing up on the beach. Mitch is suspicious of
the über-wealthy Victoria Leeds (Priyanka Chopra), owner of the Huntley Club, a
high-end beach resort that has just opened at one end of Emerald Bay. Leeds,
always accompanied by a pair of dangerous-looking thugs, has been quietly
buying up beachfront property, with the clandestine assistance of a local city
councilman (Oscar Nuñez) whom she has in her pocket.
Chopra is a hoot as the
cheerfully evil Victoria, always seen in the most expensive couture designer
clothes, and who appears on the beach only if she can stand on a little
platform, thereby avoiding the sand. When she scoffs at Mitch’s distrust and
says, “Goodness, I’m not a James Bond villain,” the line elicits a grin because
that’s precisely what she is.
You’ll hear plenty of similar
inside-joke dialog, as when Mitch explains the potential complexities of the
Baywatch team’s job to a dubious Matt, by citing a trio of the original TV
show’s more outlandish plots. We can’t help but chuckle.
You’ll also want to pay close
attention to the fish tank in Mitch’s home.
All of this plays into the charm
of Gordon’s film: It’s clear that everybody is having a great time, not taking
themselves too seriously, and their enthusiasm is infectious. It’s easy to go
along.
To a point.
The relentless F-bombs and verbal
vulgarities permitted by the film’s R-rating are reasonably amusing, because
they’re appropriate to Matt’s loutish personality, and the
give-as-good-as-he-gets approach with which Mitch combats it. On the other
hand, a needlessly explicit sequence in a morgue is the sort of over-the-top,
tone-deaf misfire that we’d expect from Judd Apatow’s aggressively crude
repertoire company: coarseness for the sheer sake of being distasteful, which
brings the film to a screeching halt.
That issue aside, Gordon moves
his film breezily along, wisely focusing on the various character dynamics.
Efron is thoroughly convincing as the narcissistic Matt, stubbornly arrogant
despite mounting evidence that he’s alienating everybody; we eagerly anticipate
his epiphany, because it’s always satisfying to see bad boys get their
comeuppance.
Daddario makes Summer spunky and
resourceful, and it’s fun to watch her keep the cocky Matt at arm’s length.
Rohrbach has a sparkling effervescence, and CJ’s sympathy toward Bass’ hapless
Ronnie is quite sweet ... if frequently staged to maximize the latter’s
embarrassment.
Hadera delivers the one truly
“straight” character, with Stephanie often offering the pragmatic counsel that
keeps everybody else (somewhat) grounded. Yahya Abdul-Mateen II is a hoot as
Sgt. Ellerbee, the region’s actual
beach cop, constantly trying to maintain his authority in the face of Mitch’s
boundary challenges.
Gordon and his scripters also
find time to insert a couple of respectful cameo appearances. (What are the
odds that two current high-profile
films would high-five David Hasselhoff?)
The Florida and Georgia locations
are undeniably gorgeous, and Gordon takes every opportunity to showcase scores
of buff bods and scantily clad lovelies. The manner in which Mitch and his gang
handle the crime-laden subplot is improbable stuff and nonsense, but everybody
plays their roles with a wink and a nod, as if — even within their own universe
— they’re fully aware of the core absurdities.
Too bad our real-world visits to
the beach can’t be this much fun.
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