Three stars. Rated R, for violence, dramatic intensity and profanity
By Derrick Bang
At his syndicated prime, Joe Bob
Briggs would have been all over this one.
Kidnap is a classic drive-in exploitation flick:
gratuitously violent, wholly preposterous and at times laughably acted ... but
you gotta give director Luis Prieto credit for momentum, and for cunningly
winding up his viewers.
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| Karla (Halle Berry) spends most of this film's vehicular pursuit looking ahead, toward the car that contains her kidnapped son ... except when the baddies in that car do something dreadful to other folks. |
And for knowing when to get off
the stage. At a revved-up 82 minutes, his film certainly doesn’t overstay its
welcome.
Matters could have been improved
considerably, however, had Prieto bothered to find a better writer. First-time
scripter Knate Lee may have delivered a smashing concept pitch, but his
dialogue is atrocious ... particularly during the first act, when star Halle
Berry spends far too much time talking to herself (by way of — needlessly —
telling us stuff that we already
know).
Berry’s clumsy, unpersuasive
delivery doesn’t help the situation. She’s far more convincing during the final
act, when she talks less and relies more on mama-bear fury. By that point, you
should expect to hear repeated shouts of “You go, girl!” from the audience.
And you’ll probably be perched at
the edge of your own seat, as well.
Prieto opens his film with a
sickly sweet montage that demonstrates the depth of Karla Dyson’s (Berry)
devotion to her son Frankie, from birth to adorable young kidhood. Now played
winningly by Sage Correa, the bespectacled Frankie is every inch the lovable,
trusting and achingly vulnerable little boy.
Karla, alas, scrambles as a
hard-working New Orleans waitress and single mother, often taking double shifts
just to make ends meet, and embroiled in a custody battle with her ex and his
new girlfriend. Both are much more financially stable.
The latter subplot, apparently
introduced for character depth, goes absolutely nowhere. It’s entirely
superfluous and offers no closure. Sloppy.
A rare shared afternoon’s fun at
the magnificent City Park grants Karla and Frankie some quality time, until her
attention briefly wanders while taking a phone call from her divorce attorney.
But that’s enough for Frankie to vanish, Karla’s initial concern igniting into
full-blown panic when she sees her son being hauled into a scruffy hatchback by
an even scruffier woman.
An unseen driver roars out of the
parking lot, but Karla is close enough to her minivan to hop in and give chase.
And “chase” is rather an
understatement.
