I miss Guy Ritchie.
I miss the British director who burst onto the scene with snarky crime thrillers such as Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, populated by arch characters with improbable names such as Hatchet Harry, Barry the Baptist, Franky Four Fingers and Bullet-Tooth Tony, all bumping each other off in ways that would have been appalling, were they not so darkly hilarious.
That Guy Ritchie attempted to go mainstream a decade ago, with uneven results, by tampering with pop-culture icons such as Sherlock Holmes and Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)
As "H" (Jason Statham, second from left) begins his first day on the job, Bullet
(Holt McCallany, far left) introduces him to Hollow Bob (far right) and
Boy Sweat Dave (Josh Hartnett).
Happily, the original Guy Ritchie returned with 2019’s The Gentleman, another cheeky crime thriller leavened by the writer/director’s caustic sense of humor.
Alas, that Guy Ritchie is AWOL in his new film. Wrath of Man hasn’t a single wry chuckle in its dreary 118 minutes; it’s nothing but a grim revenge saga with far too much collateral damage to be enjoyable on any level.
It’s not fun, merely tedious. No snark. No attitude.
It’s also a disappointing reunion with star Jason Statham, who was introduced — nay, detonated — in Lock, Stock and Snatch. Statham also isn’t fun here; he’s merely a grim rage machine, in an under-developed role that could’ve been played by any number of grade-C action stars.
The sole Ritchie touch evident — in a script co-written with Marn Davies and Ivan Atkinson, and adapted from the 2004 French thriller Le Convoyeur — is the clever, non-linear structure that teases us with partial details, until finally Revealing All during the third act.
But that’s hardly enough to hold our interest, when surrounded by so many one-dimensional characters.
Maybe the Los Angeles setting is to blame. Ritchie needs to operate in his native Merry Olde, where British wit is an institution. Everybody knows that Los Angeles has no sense of humor.
Anyway…
After a deadly ambush on one of its armored vehicles, L.A.-based Fortico Securities replaces one of its slain guards with tight-lipped Patrick Hill (Statham), who immediately is dubbed “H.” He barely passes the necessary driving, behavior and shooting tests administered by the veteran Bullet (Holt McCallany), who nonetheless speaks up for the new recruit, despite the doubts of depot manager Terry (Eddie Marsan).
Fortico handles the transport of major cash sums that — for one reason or another — can’t be processed via banks (a good option for marijuana dispensaries).
At first blush, H seems to be a quiet, keep-your-head-down type who simply wishes to earn an honest paycheck; Bullet is happy to partner with him. But when he and H are jumped by a group of thugs, the latter’s ruthlessly lethal nature — along with gun skills far superior to what he earlier displayed, on the firing range — are revealed.
In truth, H is an undercover crime boss who has a very specific reason for having signed on with Fortico. He also has a “relationship of convenience” with FBI Agent King (Andy Garcia), who seems content to allow this loose cannon to take out competitive trash.
In this case, that turns out to be a cadre of ex-military men led by the methodical Jackson (Jeffrey Donovan), who has conceived a once-in-a-lifetime heist that’ll yield millions. His team — all former soldiers who served with him in the Middle East — comprises Brad (Deobia Oparei), Carlos (Laz Alonso), Sam (Raúl Castillo) Tom (Chris Reilly) and Jan (Scott Eastwood), the latter a barely controlled sociopath.
The various Fortico drivers include Boy Sweat Dave (Josh Hartnett), Hollow Bob (Rocci Williams), the Armourer (Geradl Tyler) and Dana (Niamh Algar). The latter is the sole woman in this testosterone-fueled outfit, and it’s nice to see that Algar holds her own.
It’s certainly no spoiler to suggest that Jackson’s meticulously conceived plan, despite all of its carefully calculated details, will go awry.
The problem, when things do go down, is that the film becomes increasingly mean-spirited. H’s actual reason for joining Fortico is motive enough to make us loathe the bad guys; we don’t need excess — and excessive — assassinations to further amplify our involvement. Indeed, this has the opposite effect; the minimal vicarious pleasure we might possess, as we hit the violent third act, rapidly turns to dismay.
Statham certainly doesn’t hold our attention, despite his powerful screen presence; H is little more than a scowling cipher, although he clearly has the respect of his own crime crew. (I won’t bother with their names, as they don’t play much of a role in these events.) Fans expecting to see Statham deliver some of his signature athletic mayhem, will walk away disappointed … unless watching him run fast is sufficiently exciting.
Happily, McCallany’s Bullet has an actual personality. He’s an imposing bear of a man: gruffly genial and quick with a smile. Donovan also stands out; Jackson has the cool, calm bearing of a guy accustomed to being in charge. He’s also quite wary of Jan, and deservedly so; Eastwood makes him hot-headed, unpredictable and far from trustworthy. (Just in passing, he sounds a lot like his father.)
The action sequences are choreographed with very little pizzazz: merely standard-issue carnage. That’s also disappointing, coming from a director capable of much better. Christopher Benstead’s deafening synth “score” is beyond obnoxious; it sounds like one basso profundo note on a massive church organ is stuck throughout the entire film.
You’ll find little to admire here, and I’m surprised it’s getting mainstream theatrical release.
No comments:
Post a Comment