Three stars. Rated R, for strong bloody violence, relentless profanity, sexual candor and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang
Too long, too loud and too laughably ludicrous.
Too profane, as well. Along with deplorably violent.
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| In characteristic fashion, Marcus (Martin Lawrence, left) wants to reason with a highly agitated suspect, whereas Mike (Will Smith) prefers the more direct, confrontational approach. |
Par for the course, in a film co-scripted by Joe Carnahan (who previously brought us Narc, Smokin’ Aces and 2018’s remake of Death Wish, among others).
Carnahan got an assist from co-writers Peter Craig and Chris Bremner, and the result — the very late-arriving threequel to 1995’s Bad Boys — delivers precisely what this series’ fans expect. I’ve no doubt they’ll all go home satisfied.
That said, this bloated cop thriller would be a slog without the mirthful banter between Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, returning as forever bickering “bad boys” Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett. Except that they’re no longer “boys, as their much younger colleagues frequently point out. They’ve become the cop equivalent of creaky old-timers, and the story has fun with this dynamic.
Marcus, a newly minted grandfather, is more than ready to call it a day. Mike, lacking his partner’s family ties, stubbornly hangs onto his bad-ass rep … while clandestinely dying his signature goatee, in order to conceal the grey. He believes the rep is all he has, despite Marcus’ insistence to the contrary.
Bad Boys for Life — something of a surprise, given the space between it and 2003’s Bad Boys II — is fueled by a classic “one last rodeo” plot. It’s laden with nonstop mayhem: gun battles; sniper assassinations; landscape-pummeling vehicular pursuits in cars, motorcycles, sidecars and helicopters; and several gratuitously gory deaths. Scores of assault gun-wielding thugs are dispatched bloodily, like swatted flies.
It’s all quite over the top; at a self-indulgent 123 minutes, this film definitely wears out its welcome. It also stretches credibility way past the breaking point, starting when Mike unexpectedly takes four to the chest from a semi-automatic assault weapon. And survives.
Seriously?
Catching one bullet would be sufficient for story purposes; four is an early indication of the absurd excess favored by Moroccan-born co-directors Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah (who built their résumé with the Belgian crime dramas Image, Black and Gangsta).
And no; that’s not really a spoiler, since this intended assassination takes place scant minutes into the film.
It’s part of a plot orchestrated by the viciously vindictive, witchcraft-wielding Isabel Aretas (Kate del Castillo), a Mexican crime baroness determined to reclaim the Miami franchise that was smashed years earlier by Mike, along with various police and judicial associates. To that end, she has sent her equally lethal son, Armando (Jacob Scipio), to kill all those who were involved: a task he embraces with cold precision, if chafing a bit under his mother’s strict instructions.
Marcus, wanting nothing to do with this increasingly violent nonsense, retires to a life of driving his wife Theresa (Theresa Randle) crazy. Mike, after recuperating, is bent on revenge … much to the frustrated displeasure of long-suffering, high-strung boss Capt. Howard (Joe Pantoliano, returning to the franchise). Pantoliano is a hoot, frequently reduced to babbling near-hysteria in the face of Smith’s stubbornly insistent Mike.
Howard finally relents, but only with a compromise: that Mike act solely as advisor to a new police unit dubbed Advance Miami Metro Operations (AMMO, you gotta love it), headed by Rita (Paola Nuñez), with whom he Has History. Rita’s team comprises tech expert Dorn (Alexander Ludwig), former DEA agent Rafe (Charles Melton) and feisty weapons expert Kelly (Vanessa Hudgens).
This prompts a droll old school/new school clash between Mike and the others, most notably Melton’s smug Rafe, who misses no opportunity to needle this unwanted “senior citizen.” As with the Smith/Lawrence dynamic, the banter is a welcome relief from the rest of the film’s eardrum-shattering mayhem.
El Arbi and Fallah also have fun with the disparate paths (initially) taken by Mike and Marcus. While the former screeches through Miami’s streets in his beloved 992-Generation Porsche, editors Dan Lebental and Peter McNulty cleverly cross-cut with Marcus navigating the intricacies of his living room La-Z-Boy recliner, while thoroughly absorbed in a telenovela.
But we just know (of course!) that circumstances will re-unite our two bad boys.
Smith has lost none of his smooth swagger and charming insolence, and his killer grin is put to maximum use. As a token weight-lifting scene clearly reveals, his 51-year-old bod remains impressively buff; he still looks and sounds qualified to be a bad-ass Miami cop. (It should be interesting, as time passes, to see whether Smith can outlast Tom Cruise in these highly physical action thrillers.)
Lawrence, in deliberate contrast, is hilariously cranky and put-upon: the guy who noisily protests all the way to the next fracas. The constant digs at Mike’s vanity notwithstanding (the dyed goatee), Marcus is equally guilty of refusing to wear the glasses that’ll allow him to seewhat he’s shooting at. Or driving toward.
Nuñez’s Rita is appropriately crisp and commanding, although her “flirty banter” with Smith feels less like real dialog, and more like contrived script readings. Ludwig’s “gentle giant” act — Dorn apparently has a reason to eschew violence — is unconvincing and just plain weird; the actor never sells this role.
Hudgens and Melton, more relaxed and natural, are a better fit for this film’s snarky tone.
Lorne Balfe’s score is all but buried beneath a shrieking assortment of rap and urban songs by DJ Durel, Pitbull X Lil Jon, Buju Banton, Meek Mill and others … along with numerous reprises and remixes of Inner Circle’s iconic reggae title theme.
All told, Bad Boys for Life is a classic example of action thriller wretched excess, which (lamentably) these days seems par for the course.
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