Lucy: An evolutionary leap in cinematic swill

Lucy (2014) • View trailer 
One star. Rated R, for strong violence, dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

Goodness, what an abomination.

This ghastly excuse for a movie blends the worst elements of spring’s Transcendence and the loopy “Star Gate” sequence from 2001: A Space Odyssey, with the “creation of the universe” nonsense from Tree of Life tossed in, for no particular reason.

Her senses heightened by a powerful designer drug, Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) finds that
she can "see" lines that represent cell phone conversations; she therefore sorts through
them until finding a key chat between the thugs waiting to ambush her.

And you thought this was a standard-issue revenge thriller? Think again.

French filmmaker Luc Besson is a one-man movie machine, with more than 100 titles to his credit during the past three decades: most as producer, but also quite a few as writer and/or director. He’s best known for helming high-octane action epics such as La Femme Nikita and The Professional, and he also created Jason Statham’s enormously popular Transporter series.

Besson’s hits have made pots of money, which have allowed him the luxury of self-indulgent vanity projects such as Angel-A and the children’s series that began with Arthur and the Invisibles. To put it kindly, such efforts have done little to burnish his reputation.

Lucy may tarnish it for several years. Not even the promise of three more Transporter entries is likely to compensate for this jaw-dropping example of pointless, wretched excess.

Besson directed and takes sole writing credit on this mess, so he deserves all the blame. And although Universal’s marketing strategy suggests a Nikita-esque thriller with Scarlett Johansson as the wronged, hard-charging protagonist, that’s a serious mishandling of this film’s actual nature.

Veteran filmgoers will feel nervous from the moments the lights dim, as we watch a CGI representation of ... cells dividing.

Say what?

Next up: a short prehistoric visit with AL 288-1, the female Australopithecus afarensis dubbed “Lucy” by anthropologists wise enough to recognize the value of shorter headlines.

Say what what?

After which, finally, we launch into what feels like familiar thriller territory, with an on-the-move introduction to Lucy (Johansson), a carefree American student livin’ la vida loca in Taiwan. At the moment, though, she’s wisely resisting a request by recent hook-up Richard (Pilou Asbaek) to deliver a briefcase to unknown parties at a posh hotel. Alas, Lucy’s self-preservational instincts aren’t fast enough to prevent Richard from handcuffing the case to her wrist.

Brick Mansions: Thick as a...

Brick Mansions (2014) • View trailer 
One star. Rated PG-13, despite frenetic gunfire, relentless violence, profanity, drug content, sexual menace and racial epithets
By Derrick Bang

My 8-year-old nephew could have written a better script.

Pinned down by an overhead sniper, Lino (David Belle, left) and Damien (Paul Walker)
try to figure out their next move. It won't be hard; in a movie this daft, I'm sure they
could just sprout wings and fly up to confront their attacker.

I marvel at the fact that people — in this case, Luc Besson and Bibi Naceri — got paid actual money to generate such swill. This inept excuse for an action flick may not be as disgustingly mean-spirited as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s recent Sabotage, but it’s just as stupid.

Actually, Brick Mansions isn’t even a movie; it’s just a big-screen talent showcase for French parkour founder David Belle, a fast-moving force of nature best known as a stunt coordinator on films such as Transporter 2, Colombiana and The Family. Belle is the real star here, and — I cannot lie — his jaw-dropping free running, climbing, jumping, hopping and bopping are a sight to behold.

Poor Paul Walker — the late Paul Walker — may be top-billed, but he’s little more than a shadow in Belle’s wake.

And both of them are ill-served by this limp-noodle project from Besson, the French movie machine — he also co-produced this junker — who dashes off scripts, individually or collaboratively, like grocery lists. And, frankly, filming a grocery list might have given us a better plot.

Besson has delivered numerous enjoyable hits, from La Femme Nikita and The Transporter to Taken. But he’s also responsible for a lot of disappointing junk, including recent efforts such as Lockout and this year’s Kevin Costner vehicle, 3 Days to Kill.

Brick Mansions actually is an American remake of an earlier Besson/Naceri script, 2004’s District 13. Belle played the same character in that version — same name, even — which was set in the “futuristic” Paris ghettos of 2010, where an undercover cop and an ex-thug (Belle’s part) teamed up to infiltrate a criminal gang in order to defuse a neutron bomb.

Imagine. I managed to type that last sentence with a straight face.

3 Days to Kill: Silly spy stuff

3 Days to Kill (2014) • View trailer 
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.

Once past her initial hostility, Zoey (Hailee Steinfeld) decides that she likes having her
father, Ethan (Kevin Costner), back in her life. Unfortunately, their fragile bonding
efforts keep getting interrupted by Ethan's demanding boss, with fresh bad guys for
him to find and kill.

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.

The Family: Dysfunction reigns

The Family (2013) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: R, for violence, considerable profanity and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang

Comedy is hard. Dark comedy is much harder.

Giovanni (Robert De Niro) and Maggie (Michelle Pfeiffer, back to ccamera) naturally wish
to know how their children fared, during their first day at a new French school. Warren
(John D'Leo) and Belle (Dianna Agron) downplay their activities, unwilling to admit that
their larcenous instincts — a family quality — will allow them to own the school by the
end of the week.

In theory, this film is the droll saga of a Mafia family trying to maintain the low profile demanded of the Witness Protection Program, while too easily sliding into former bad (i.e. violent) habits, much to the ongoing consternation of their FBI handler. That’s a premise with considerable comedic potential, particularly when the handler is played by Tommy Lee Jones at his morose, long-suffering best.

And things would have been fine, had our protagonists confined their lethal behavior to the various goombahs trying to find and whack them, and if said goombahs had limited their nasty tendencies toward each other.

But far too many innocent bystanders get killed along the way, sometimes quite unpleasantly. It’s rather hard to chuckle when another inquisitive neighbor gets shot between the eyes. That simply isn’t funny, and it, ah, kills the mood. Repeatedly.

The trouble is, veteran French action director Luc Besson doesn’t seem to know what kind of movie to make this time; his script — co-written with Michael Caleo, from Tonino Benacquista’s comedic novel Malavita — keeps sliding back and forth between the grim “straight” drama of La Femme Nikita or The Professional, and the far lighter, satiric tone of The Fifth Element. These styles are mutually incompatible, and the result is rather a mess.

Caleo, I note, co-wrote one episode of TV’s The Sopranos with that show’s creator, David Chase. That may have been the serio-comic mood Besson hoped to achieve, since Chase masterfully blended sarcastic humor with heinous violence in his groundbreaking show. And, at times, Besson and Caleo almost get there ... but then they spoil it with another dollop of brutal behavior.

Giovanni Manzoni (Robert De Niro) and his family have spent years on the run, at various locations in the States and now France, due to the persistence of mob bosses infuriated by his having ratted them out. Giovanni’s wife, Maggie (Michelle Pfeiffer), has grown accustomed to packing and unpacking; teenagers Belle (Dianna Agron) and Warren (John D’Leo) have resigned themselves to the constant uprooting faced by military kids.

Now, newly ensconced in a sleepy French village in the Normandy countryside, saddled with the fresh identity of “Fred Blake,” Giovanni attempts, once again, to blend. On impulse, he greets neighbors by claiming to be a writer of history; trouble is, the locals know far more about his fabricated topic — the D-Day invasion — than he does.

FBI handler Robert Stansfield (Jones) isn’t amused; that’s precisely the sort of sloppy thinking that could get “Fred” exposed as ... well, as somebody other than who he claims to be.

Taken 2: Familiarity breeds ennui

Taken 2 (2012) • View trailer
Three stars. Rating: PG-13, for relentless violence and action
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.5.12

I often lament the market-driven ubiquity of sequels, many (most?) of which not only fail to live up to their predecessors, but often taint those happy memories.

Do not get between this man and his family. When Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) runs into
a kidnapping plot resulting from unfinished business lingering from this film's
predecessor, he does what he does best: shoots and kills, shoots and kills. Sadly,
though, the bloom has worn off this particular rose.

Case in point: Taken 2, which became inevitable after its 2008 predecessor turned into a surprise hit that earned $224 million in worldwide box office.

This new entry isn’t a bad film, per se; it’s simply unnecessary. It covers no new ground, except to soften the long-estranged relationships between Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) and his ex-wife, Lenore (Famke Janssen), and their outrageously spoiled teenage daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace).

But that’s not the meat of director Olivier Megaton’s amped-up action thriller, which exists mostly so that Bryan can meticulously execute dozens of anonymous tough guys, who clearly flunked out of Thug School. Rarely have we seen such a careless, sloppy and unskilled collection of ruffians; even with automatic weapons, they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. They dishonor the tattoo that marks their clan.

In fairness, contrivance and coincidence also played a major role in the first Taken, but we weren’t quite as distracted by narrative implausibility; it was fun to see Neeson emerge as an unlikely but persuasively competent black-ops veteran. Mostly, Neeson’s Bryan was mesmerizing because of his shrewd and almost uncanny intelligence. Sure, he kicked plenty of ass, but mostly he out-thought his opponents. The concept felt fresh.

Yes, Taken 2 finds a way to further explore Bryan’s smarts; scripters Luc Besson and Robert Mark Kamen are savvy enough not to mess with success. But that’s the point; they also haven’t expanded upon that formula. In some ways, Taken 2 feels less like a sequel and more like a remake; it suffers badly from a sense of sameness.

But to cases:

Things have indeed improved between Bryan and Lenore, in part because Stuart, her second husband — never seen and only referenced; I guess Xander Berkeley wasn’t available to reprise the role — has been exposed as a louse. Bryan still monitors Kim too closely, although most parents could forgive his paranoia; after all, she was kidnapped and almost sold into white slavery.

Bryan’s insistence on über-scheduling includes helping Kim pass her driving test, in order to secure a license: a plot sidebar that blatantly telegraphs an eventual car chase with an ill-prepared Kim behind the wheel. In fairness, it’s a corker of a chase, but I’m getting ahead of things.

From Paris with Love: Frantic French free-for-all

From Paris with Love (2010) • View trailer for From Paris with Love
Three stars (out of five). Rating: R, for violence, profanity and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.5.10
Buy DVD: From Paris with Love• Buy Blu-Ray: From Paris with Love [Blu-ray]

Live-action cartoons rarely are worth writing home about, but the better ones can be fun to watch.

And when it comes to crazed action thrillers, few filmmakers deliver the goods better than Luc Besson, the French writer/director/producer who seems responsible, at times, for every third film released in France. At his best, Besson has brought us La Femme Nikita, The Professional and The Transporter series, and even lesser efforts — Danny the Dog and Angel-A — are intriguing misfires.

Impulsive black-ops agent Charlie Wax (John Travolta, left) thinks nothing of
breaking into an apartment in order to spy on somebody across the street, an
act of questionable legality that draws reproach from neophyte partner James
Reese (Jonathan Rhys Meyers). Charlie's response to James' raised eyebrow is
always the same: a long-suffering glance and an unspoken "Do you want to
get the job done, or not?"

From Paris with Love is a hoot 'n' a holler, not to mention a triumph of clever directing (Pierre Morel, strutting the same stuff he gave us in Taken) and slick editing (Frederic Thoraval). It couldn't have been easy to turn paunchy, 55-year-old John Travolta into a credible action hero, and yet his Charlie Wax (love the name!) brings down the bad guys with the panache of an actor 20 years his junior.

Besson takes credit solely for story here — scripting chores having been handed to Adi Hasak — but all the usual elements are firmly in place: oversized weapons, laughably overblown gouts of gunfire, plenty of male bonding and a tendency to treat women as appendages.

Despite being preposterous beyond words, though, Morel moves things along at a pace slick enough to minimize questions, while Travolta and co-star Jonathan Rhys Meyers keep us amply entertained every step of the way.

Folks seeking a rip-snortin' way to spend 95 minutes on a Friday evening couldn't do better.

Rhys Meyers plays James Reese, personal aide to the U.S. Ambassador in France (Richard Durden). James is a capable young man who has earned the respect of his boss, with whom he frequently plays chess. James also has a gorgeous, loving girlfriend (Kasia Smutniak, as Caroline) who designs clothes and dotes on him, and an enviable Parisian apartment with a rooftop perfectly suited to dining beneath the stars.

More than anything else, though, James likes his side job as a low-level operative for the CIA: a bit of moonlighting that he hopes, one day, to transform into a career as a bona-fide agent. This desire takes an unusual turn when his never-seen handler sends him on an urgent mission to collect somebody at Customs.

Enter Travolta's Charlie Wax, introduced as he verbally abuses the French Customs agents who are refusing to allow a bag of canned sports drinks into the country.

Transporter 3: Revved up

Transporter 3 (2008) • View trailer for Transporter 3
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for action violence and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.28.08
Buy DVD: Transporter 3 • Buy Blu-Ray: Transporter 3 [Blu-ray]

When it comes to cinematic guilty pleasures, few action stars deliver better than Jason Statham and his Transporter series.

The first film, released in 2002, had a lot to do with turning Statham into a household name; credit goes both to the actor and co-writers Luc Besson and Robert Mark Kamen. The plots often don't make much sense, but as Besson — also a stylish action director, on other projects such as La Femme Nikita and The Professional — has demonstrated time and again, even silly storylines can be entertaining, if presented with enough panache.

Hoping to catch a couple of gun-toting thugs by surprise as they search a train,
a concealed Frank Martin (Jason Statham, left) spots a dangling motorcycle
helmet and deftly kicks it straight toward their heads ... merely one of countless
martial-arts stunts employed by the always engaging action star of this flick.

Flash-forward to the present day, at which point the impressively buff Statham has become England's answer to Jackie Chan in his prime: a martial-arts force of nature whose tightly choreographed exploits often involve furniture, clothing, stray household objects and anything else that can be snatched, smacked or kicked into an opponent's groin.

Transporter 3 has several choice fight scenes that gleefully adhere to this pattern, while also indulging every possible excuse to strip Statham to the waist. After all, with a bod like his, why be modest?

All the elements are in place as this film begins, with Statham's Frank Martin — on a break in between making his "high-risk deliveries" — enjoying some unexpectedly peaceful down time with his best (only?) friend, police inspector Tarconi (François Berléand). It can't last, of course; as Tarconi is summoned to an unusual crime scene, Frank heads home for a quiet evening.

Too bad a car smashes through the outer wall and hurtles into his living room.

The vehicle contains a badly wounded driver and a stunningly attractive young woman named Valentina (Natalya Rudakova); both wear rather odd-looking bracelets. Frank processes the latter bit of information too slowly; when ambulance attendants haul the injured man a specific distant from his vehicle, the bracelet explodes and kills everybody within range.

One crack on the head later, Frank wakes up to find himself wearing an identical bracelet. He's given an unusual assignment by his new "client," an unctuous fellow named Johnson (Robert Knepper): Drive the same young woman to a series of stops in Marseilles, Stuttgart, Budapest and Odessa, each time pausing long enough for additional instructions.

And if Frank ever moves too far away from his car, he'll meet the same fate that befell the previous driver.

With no choice in the matter, Frank reluctantly agrees.