Four stars. Rated R, for violence, profanity and some sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.13.17
This film likely isn’t on your
radar.
It should be.
 |
| Irish Deputy Minister Liam Hennessy (Pierce Brosnan, right) is kind enough to grant some time to Quan Ngoc Minh (Jackie Chan), who hopes to learn the identity of the terrorists who killed his daughter, back in London. The meeting ... does not go well. |
Director Martin Campbell and
scripter David Marconi have transformed prolific British thriller author
Stephen Leather’s 1992 novel, The
Chinaman, into a crackerjack espionage drama: an absolutely perfect vehicle
for star Jackie Chan, shrewdly playing a character his actual age (63 years
young).
And while it’s true that the
beloved martial arts sensation no longer hurls himself out of trees, or through
multiple plate-glass windows, he still has moves. Plenty of them.
Marconi’s script is a clever
update of Leather’s novel, which was written while the Provisional Irish Republican
Army’s brutal bombing campaign was climaxing (and which, mercifully, would
conclude with a cease-fire in 1997). This big-screen adaptation benefits from
taut direction, crisp editing and a devious narrative laden with twists and
double-crosses.
And, most of all, from Chan’s captivating
portrayal of a character who completely wins our hearts and minds.
The contemporary setting
introduces Quan Ngoc Minh (Chan) as a quiet London restaurateur, who dotes on
his teenage daughter, Fan (Katie Leung): the sole family member left after a
couple of earlier tragedies. Campbell and Marconi deftly sketch their loving
relationship during a prologue that feels ominous because of its mundane
normality.
Our fears prove justified, when
Fan’s enthusiastic dive into a dress shop turns tragic as a terrorist bomb goes
off. Credit for the heinous act is claimed by a group calling itself The
Authentic IRA.
Although swept into in a
maelstrom of grief that threatens to drown him — Chan’s expression and body
language are heartbreaking, during these early scenes — Quan patiently,
doggedly navigates “proper channels” in an effort to secure a piece of
information that he deems naïvely simple: the name, or names, of the bombers.
He finally gains a chat with
Commander Richard Bromley (Ray Fearon), head of the British anti-terrorist task
force charged with investigating the attack. Although sympathetic, Bromley
assures Quan that his team is doing everything possible, and sends him home.
But Quan cannot let it rest, much to the mounting concern of his restaurant
partner, Lam (Tao Liu), who clearly loves him.
Meanwhile, Irish Deputy Minister
Liam Hennessy (Pierce Brosnan, allowing his Irish brogue to flow) has gotten a
stern warning from British Ministry of Defense official Katherine Davies (Lia
Williams): Identify and arrest those responsible, or we’ll have boots on the
ground. Although a former IRA operative himself, Hennessy now heads an Irish
ministry that has collaborated with the British government since 1997, in an
effort to uphold the peace accord.
Getting to the bottom of this
assault by an apparent splinter faction — and quickly — is in Northern
Ireland’s best interests, and Hennessy knows it.
But as the days and weeks drag
on, “quickly” proves insufficiently swift for Quan. Frustrated beyond endurance
by the paralysis of bureaucracy, he prepares a nondescript green van in a
manner most unbecoming a humble restaurateur. And we suddenly wonder: Who is this guy?
Quan drives to Belfast and is
allowed a brief meeting with Hennessy, who offers condolences. Quan requests
the names of those responsible for the bombing. Exasperation beginning to rise
above sympathy, Hennessy insists that he simply doesn’t know. You can find out,
Quan replies, with quiet, fixed-stare conviction.
Now well and truly annoyed,
Hennessy dismisses his visitor. Quan retreats, with a promise.
At which point, matters become
... interesting. And exciting, suspenseful and thoroughly engaging.
When Constant Companion leaned
in, toward the end of the second act, and whispered “I love this film,” she spoke truth. The third act is even better.
Our unreserved involvement with
Quan’s impossible quest notwithstanding, the film also gets plenty of juice
from the complex relationships and politically charged atmosphere that swirl
around Hennessy. Professionally, he balances on the razor’s edge: on the one
hand, wanting to maintain the fragile peace; on the other, mindful of the
nationalistic fervor typified by fellow Irish minister Hugh McGrath (Dermot
Crowley) and his constituents, who are blind to the generation-ago bloodbath
they’re too young to remember.
Hennessy’s personal life also is chaotic,
his wife Mary (Orla Brady) clearly beginning to suspect the affair that he’s
having with the much younger Maggie (Charlie Murphy).
These intriguing character
dynamics are augmented further by the fascinating procedural elements that
Marconi works into his script: the rigorous efforts of intelligent, dedicated
anti-terrorist operatives — crisply staged by Campbell and editor Angela M.
Catanzaro — as they analyze every scrap of information, while mounting the sort
of all-stops-out investigation that we’d love to believe takes place on our side of the pond, under such
circumstances. (They’ve got more cameras. So far.)
Chan’s sympathetic performance
propels everything else, thanks to the underdog folly of Quan’s stubborn and
increasingly dangerous antics. (It’s not as if a Chinese man can “blend” well
in Belfast.) Quan’s age and vulnerability are visible throughout: This guy isn’t
the daredevil of Chan’s Supercop
days. Quan endures much throughout this story, and we wince at each body-blow
during the increasingly brutal skirmishes persuasively staged by stunt
coordinators Greg Powell and Guanhua Han.
Brosnan, in turn, carries the
story’s expanding espionage element. Although introduced as a prancing
government pony, Hennessy’s three-piece-suited surface gloss conceals a much
more complicated individual. The fascination of Brosnan’s performance comes
from the subtle ways in which Hennessy’s civilized manner slowly yields to the
IRA mercenary he has tried, for so long, to leave behind.
Rory Fleck Byrne exudes an
appropriately lethal aura as Sean Morrison, Hennessy’s nephew, who initially is
tasked with liaising secretly with Bromley — because an Irish agent
collaborating openly with the British would be anathema to hard-charging
nationalists — but later is asked to employ his more lethal skills.
The delectable Murphy is bubbly
charm as Hennessy’s girlfriend Maggie; Brady, in turn, makes his wife Mary
increasingly waspish and exasperated, as their lives are upended by a situation
that spirals rapidly out of control. Rufus Jones is believably scruffy as Ian
Wood, the newspaper journalist who receives the post-blast confirmation call from
the bombers.
Cliff Martinez’s score, less
melodic and more propulsively atmospheric, relies heavily on pounding blasts of
low-end synth. The results are effective, if not terribly noteworthy.
Everything is orchestrated with
tightly controlled snap by Campbell, who knows the territory well; his résumé
includes a pair of the better 007 thrillers — GoldenEye and Casino Royale
— along with the terrific 1985 TV miniseries, Edge of Darkness.
The Foreigner
is an energetic, meticulously plotted suspenser. Don’t let it get away.
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