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This is the first entry in a new and irregular series of posts about film marathons I’ve undertaken that follow a certain theme (directors, actors, franchises and so on). For the inaugural effort I decided to pick The Fast and the Furious series, as up until a fortnight ago I’d never actually watched any of these movies before, unless you count the 1955 B movie The Fast and the Furious written by Roger Corman (which obviously you shouldn’t). I wanted to find out what I’d been missing, so set off on a journey with perma-serious Dominic Toretto and his fellow high-speed drivers, his seemingly endless supply of expensive, fast cars and his rather annoying habit of extolling the virtues of la familia every ten or fifteen minutes…

Who would have thought that a garish, poorly-written Point Break rip-off set amid Los Angeles’ illegal street racing scene – a screenplay inspired by a Vibe magazine article about New York-based racers of imported Japanese cars – would become one of the world’s most financially reliable movie franchises, with not only eight blockbuster films made to date (and at least three more in development at the time of writing) but also associated theme park rides, tie-in books, video games and mountains of promotional vehicular tat?

Had I watched The Fast And The Furious upon its release in 2001 and asked myself that very question, I doubt I’d have predicted that a ninth film would be in production by 2018, let alone a spin-off featuring characters who didn’t even join the series until 2011 and 2015 respectively (next year’s Hobbs & Shaw will concentrate on the semi-comic interplay that has developed between characters played by Dwayne Johnson and Jason Statham). In 2001 I would have probably underestimated the sheer amount of desire that exists among cinemagoers for ultimately vapid films that are filled with fast cars, bodies that conform to a certain widely-held notion of sexiness, simple dialogue and risible plotting, but I should point out here for the uninitiated that the longevity of this series is mostly due to the decision made around the time of the fourth film to bring back certain characters and to gradually phase out the street racing in favour of globetrotting espionage, slicker action and crazy stunts, the kind of multiplex-friendly material that has reliably drawn big crowds for decades. Over the course of a decade and a half, these films have deliberately been moulded in order to appeal to a wider audience, one whose primary interest doesn’t really lie with pricey supercars, though there are still enough lingering shots of brightly-painted, curvy bodywork in each entry to slake the thirst of any hardened petrolhead.

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Vin Diesel and Paul Walker

It’s a series that is partly defined by its moments of transition; what’s interesting to me about The Fast And The Furious isn’t so much the movies themselves – some of which are very, very entertaining – but what has happened in-between releases, i.e. the decisions that have been made prior to and during production. All of them adhere to a certain formula associated with three-act Hollywood action cinema, but a severe re-working and then a gradual honing of the product – and we are very much talking about ‘product’, here – has taken place between films four and eight, with one director in particular (Justin Lin) making his mark on the series as it moved from boy racer wet dream to a more muscular action extravaganza.

Lin made the third film, and is also responsible for the fourth, fifth and sixth; soon, he will return to the fold to make the ninth and tenth iterations. Screenwriter Chris Morgan has probably been just as important, writing seven of the films to date (if you include Hobbs & Shaw). Today, as a result of this consistency, and a desire not to stray too far from the successful model Lin and Morgan established ten years ago, everyone who follows the franchise knows what will be in the next film, much in the same way that those who watch James Bond or Mission: Impossible films know that certain boxes in those movies will be ticked for as long as they are made.

While you’re watching the Fast and the Furious films, it’s impossible to escape the sense that the studio tightly controls the life of this cash cow, and that we’re not necessarily seeing one director’s vision, but that of several directors past and present combined, who have all had to manage the input of power-wielding stars, producers and, no doubt, entire marketing departments. Of course filmmaking is a necessarily collaborative process, but it’s obvious that during the past seventeen years or so owner Universal Pictures has managed to slowly shed everything that doesn’t quite work, or isn’t popular enough, and has kept in everything that tests well with audiences and puts bums on seats. It’s not rocket science, I guess, but woe betide the director who comes in and tries to Last Jedi the fuck out of a future installment – because people expect certain things from this franchise, and thanks to the studio, the public gets what the public wants. (As I watched one film after another during this marathon I started to experience the same feeling I get when I go into a McDonald’s or buy a Coke; familiarity can be comforting at times but it can, eventually, also become boring.)

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Michelle Rodriguez

The notion of a series that has regularly found itself in periods of transition also applies to the actors, and their characters. Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of the franchise is that no-one has really managed to appear in all of the films. Vin Diesel – who plays Dom Toretto, a man who starts off as a small-time hijacker and street racer leading a crew of fellow criminals before later evolving into some sort of godlike, injury-avoiding, stunt-driving superhero – has had a good stab at it, but I don’t count the archive footage that’s used briefly in second film 2 Fast 2 Furious or the cameo at the end of the third, Tokyo Drift (which happens to be the third in terms of release date, but not the third chronologically); still, Toretto’s total of six appearances shows Diesel’s enduring box office appeal. Paul Walker, who sadly died in a car crash during the making of the seventh film, also made it into six of them; his undercover cop/former undercover cop Brian O’Conner being the only familiar face in 2 Fast 2 Furious, which is the worst of the bunch. Other mainstays include Michelle Rodriguez as driver Letty Ortiz (five films), Jordana Brewster as driver/love interest/Dom’s sister Mia Toretto (six films but pretty much sidelined with a baby for the past couple), Tyrese Gibson as loudmouth wheelman Roman Pearce (five films), Chris ‘Ludacris’ Bridges as mechanical wizard Tej Parker (five films), Sung Kang as enigmantic driver Han Lue (four films), Johnson as US agent Luke Hobbs (four films) and Gal Gadot as ex-Mossad operative Gisele Yashar (three films). More recently Nathalie Emmanuel, Statham and Luke Evans have had recurring roles, while Charlize Theron’s hacker villain Cipher will surely be back in the future.

Cast members come and go, but teamwork and the importance of family are always emphasised as Toretto and his crew battle some kind of megalomaniac (usually a gangster, drug kingpin or simply a classic headcase who wants to get their hands on a nuke to start World War Three). However, many of the principal characters are in a constant state of flux, usually exhibiting criminal behaviour of some sort but switching sides at a whim, co-operating with law enforcement forces one minute but being hunted by the police and other authorities the next. Throughout they remain anti-heroes, usually morally in the right, beneficiaries of the skewed movie logic that makes characters seem ‘good’ because the person they’re battling is ‘badder’.

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Dwayne Johnson, Vin Diesel, Paul Walker

Walker’s Brian spends a few of the films as an undercover agent, but the lure of the family becomes too strong and his conflict of interest eventually ends; he becomes part of the gang on the run. Toretto – perhaps the most code-driven movie character we’ve ever seen – has to turn his back on the group in one film, becoming a kind of villain of the piece. Statham’s Deckard Shaw is the seemingly indefeatable big bad in one film only to have an abrupt about-turn in the next, his skill-set being of considerable value to Toretto and co as they take on a different enemy. In an arc spreading across three films Letty Ortiz is presumed dead only to reemerge – without any memories of her past– on the side of another enemy. And so on. The films stay the same, yet change is everywhere.

I watched them in order (ie by release date), knowing that I’d probably begin to enjoy them more as the stunts became more outlandish and everything became sillier. Rob Cohen’s original (2/5) is a serviceable action drama, in which O’Conner tries to infiltrate Toretto’s crew as part of an investigation into hijacking operations, and while doing so he earns the respect of Dom and co while falling in love with Mia. It lurches from one plot or dialogue cliche to the next, but it does have its moments, particularly the Mad Max-esque truck chase near the end. However, whenever we and the characters leave the insides of the vehicles the shortcomings are painfully obvious; as I said earlier it’s a fairly tepid Kathryn Bigelow rip-off and I began to worry about how I would feel after watching so many Vin Diesel movies in a row, as here he exhibits all the charisma and acting ability of a baked potato.

If the first one is basically Point Break with cars, 2 Fast 2 Furious (1.5/5) is a thinly-disguised homage to Miami Vice, with Walker and newcomer Gibson doing passable impersonations of Crockett and Tubbs as they zoom around trying to outwit a gang of rote Floridian gangsters. It did at least instantly change my opinion on Diesel; he is sorely missed here, if for no other reason than the second movie needed another strong link to the original (alongside Walker). As acting rappers go, Ludacris is very much a step up on Ja Rule, who is in the first one, but John Singleton’s effort is very weak overall, and even a week or so after watching the movie it’s hard to recall much of the detail.

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Lucas Black and Nathalie Kelley

I’m not sure what happened in the lead-up to The Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift (2.5/5), but it’s the best of the first three (ie the ones that tend to concentrate on street racing). With no returning cast members (aside from Diesel’s brief cameo at the end) this detour could easily have been a disaster, but I think it has a fair bit going for it, not least the excellent race sequences that were put together by Lin and his crew (the ‘drift’ through the Shibuya Crossing that takes place here is probably the highlight of the first three movies). Again the plot is a bit by the numbers and the performances are generally uninteresting and uncharismatic (with the notable exception of Kang, making his debut here), but shifting the action away from the US injected a bit of ooomph.

If Universal has concerns about Walker and Diesel as leading men prior to Tokyo Drift, any such fears will surely have been put to bed with the advent of fourth film Fast & Furious (2.5/5) – by this point Walker in particular had really improved as an action hero. I liked this one – with the usual reservations about acting, plotting and the script – and you could argue that it’s the most important film of the series, as it represents the point that the studio moved away from the street racing and car culture side of things in favour of more robust and outlandish action, plus the most important established characters return. It’s all very macho, and often very silly, but the stunt driving is typically excellent once again, and Lin really does excel at the big set pieces. By this point I’d watched half of the franchise in the space of a day and started to get a headache from the heady mix of fast cutting and engine revving. It was time for a break, but as the fourth one drew to a close I realised I’d finally warmed to Vin Diesel – an actor of limited ability but a likeable, earnest trier – and I was looking forward to the arrival of Dwayne Johnson, who joined the franchise in Fast Five.

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Gal Gadot and Sung Kang

I carried on the following day, slightly weary of car porn and risible acting but still eager to watch what many feel is the high watermark of the series. They definitely upped the ante with the fifth entry (3.5/5), which is set in Rio, bringing back a number of old characters for a ridiculously stoopid but hugely entertaining heist movie. In terms of the big set pieces I’m less of a fan of the one involving a safe being dragged through the streets than I am of the earlier train sequence, which is terrific fun – it’s so over the top that I was chuckling away to myself by the end of it. Once again my opinion of Walker had improved by the end; by this point in time purely in terms of his physicality he was on a par with quite a few of Hollywood’s bigger names, and the rooftop dash across the favela seen here is the equal of similar, more lauded scenes featuring Daniel Craig and Matt Damon in the Bond and Bourne franchises. Johnson is a fun addition, though his Hobbs is evidently less cuddly here than in later instalments (the actor has gradually taken on more likeable roles outside of this franchise, too), but I enjoyed the ultra-macho rivalry Hobbs has with Dom, which culminates in a wall-pounding fist fight. Over the top and frequently hilarious, Fast Five is a total blast and it’s probably the film that really converted me into a fan.

The problem with watching them back-to-back – certainly from the fifth movie onwards, anyway – is that it becomes harder to distinguish one from another; what marks them out is the appearance of a name actor, such as Theron, or a particularly memorable stunt – and Fast & Furious 6 (3/5) has two of the latter, both of which are as silly as they are entertaining: a crew vs tank showdown culminates, hilariously, with Vin Diesel flying through the air like Superman, while the crew vs aeroplane set piece includes bone-crunching fights, the death of a notable character and Diesel flying through the air again, albeit this time in a car as it exits an exploding jumbo jet via the flight deck and nose cone. The rest of the London-set material here pales a little, by comparison, but is still enjoyable in and of itself. There’s terrible dialogue yet again, and there are times when you feel there isn’t enough space or time for all of the characters to actually do or say something important, but obviously these films stand or fall on their car chases, stunts and races, and number six delivers in that regard.

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The cliff-edge stunt

As does Furious 7 (3/5), which is both The Jason Statham One and Paul Walker’s swan song, the actor’s tragic death in a single vehicle accident occurring mid-production. Memorable stunts this time feature a synchronised car parachute drop, a car smashing through the glass upper floors of three separate Abu Dhabi skyscrapers and – my personal favourite – a rather tense escape by Walker’s O’Conner from a precipitous, cliff edge bus just before it falls (filmed using a stuntman and without CGI). Walker’s brothers stepped in to help complete the late actor’s scenes and the movie includes a touching tribute to the actor as its finale, very much a ‘goodbye’ from the cast and crew that could easily have been cringeworthy but is instead genuine, heartfelt.

Walker might have started out as one of the two lynchpins of the series but in the later films he was sharing screen time with a much-expanded cast, and arguably was less integral to the franchise than he was, say, two or three films earlier. I say this not to denigrate the man but instead to explain why it’s no surprise that Universal and it’s employees carried on without him (well, there’s also the small matter of a billion dollars profit per film, but I’m trying to link these paragraphs together here, cut me some slack). There’s the briefest of mentions of his character in the eighth film – he supposedly retired at the end of the seventh – and that’s it. Joining the remaining performers for The Fate Of The Furious (2.5/5, released as Fast & Furious 8 in the UK) are Charlize Theron, Helen Mirren and Scott Eastwood, while Kurt Russell – who first appeared in number seven – reprises his role as Mr Nobody, a government agent with considerable reach. Statham also returns, this time in cahoots with the Toretto crew, though the gang are actually trying to take down their old chum and de facto leader due to some rather dubious plotting. It’s all a bit soap opera, and there’s perhaps a little too much emphasis in this one on the importance of family, but it does at least culminate in a gloriously silly submarine and car chase across an ice field, and Statham, Johnson, Mirren and Russell seem to be having a lot of fun.

‘Fun’ is the operative word with regard to this series. It got much better when it stopped taking itself too seriously and ditched the street racing in favour of silly, high-octane chases featuring astonishing stunt driving. Around the same time, the cast became more stable, with characters played by Gibson and Ludacris in particular adding some comic levity through their interplay, a tone that was later enhanced by the addition of the Alpha Male bromance between Hobbs and Shaw, as well as Russell’s knowing, confidently-delivered quips. Few people, I imagine, would wish for a return to the days of the early films, in which there was more emphasis on the frowns of Letty Rodriguez, Dom Toretto and Brian O’Conner.

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Tyrese Gibson flying high

Those three characters have, however, been integral for most of the eight films to date, providing the nearest thing we have here to character arcs and through storylines. By the latter stages of this marathon I felt some sort of affinity to them, particularly as Walker’s passing cast its shadow over film seven, but then that’s hardly surprising given that I’d spent around 16 hours in their company during the past two days.

At their best, the Fast and the Furious movies offer solid popcorn entertainment, with jaw-dropping set pieces that provoke as much mirth as they do admiration for those working in the stunt industry. But let’s not get carried away… the acting and scripts are often risible and there’s the danger of a formula eventually stifling creativity, which some may argue has already happened. How much you enjoy them probably depends on how attracted you are to big (and stoopid) blockbusters, or to the extent that you are able to embrace the stupidity of the series. What have I learned by watching these films back-to-back? Not a great deal, but I guess the main thing is they’ve just about persuaded me into becoming a fan… or perhaps a member of the family – ah yes, that word again – who shows up for everything but lurks on the fringes, wondering when they can leave.

Ranked, best to worst (only including those released at the time of writing):

Fast Five
Fast & Furious 6
Furious 7
The Fate Of The Furious
Fast & Furious
Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift
The Fast and the Furious
2 Fast 2 Furious

[Note: There has been so much written about this film – which is every bit as cumbersome and bloated as its title – that I can hardly muster the will to add more noise to the cacophony, which has been about as enjoyable to sift through during the past week as the Phone Book. But I will nonetheless, purely for the simple fact that I may one day wish to go back and read about my own thoughts on Batman v Superman: Dawn Of Justice (herewith referred to as ‘BvS‘) at the time of release. Here goes.]

BvS opens with the big battle from the end of 2013’s Man Of Steel, and we glimpse Henry Cavill’s Superman fighting Michael Shannon’s antagonist General Zod in the skies above Metropolis; the continuity is a nice touch, and it also introduces the audience to Ben Affleck’s take on Bruce Wayne/Batman, here on the ground sans-Batsuit and trying to save employees unlucky enough to be working in one of the many buildings destroyed by the men of Krypton. (Ever the capitalist pigdog, Wayne drives past dozens of similar buildings that are presumably full of innocent people who need saving in order to get to those on his payroll.) Zack Snyder, the earlier film’s director, is back in the chair for this blockbuster, and I like the fact that he addresses one of the overwhelming criticisms of Man Of Steel, which concerned its lack of empathy with the countless people presumably killed or injured amid all the Zod/Superman carnage. Indeed the issue of that human collateral damage subsequently becomes the driving force for Wayne’s mistrust of Superman, which is echoed more generally by the rest of society, and which in turn paves the way for the good guy versus good guy battle that the title promises.

In this film Superman is a figure who divides public opinion: those who have loved ones saved by the hero treat him like a deity, and he arrogantly bathes in their adoration, while a monument has already been constructed in his honour in Metropolis. Others are skeptical, protesting at said monument and outside the US Capitol, with some wishing to develop the means to control him, including Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex Luthor (a performance that I actually found slightly entertaining and colourful, where all else is dark, grave and intentionally serious). Wayne and Luthor’s developing interests in Superman occur in tandem, though the screenplay by Chris Terrio and David Goyer gets slightly bogged down with details while juggling their particular motivations with all the political wrangling. Superman, meanwhile, doesn’t quite know what to make of it all, and still seems to be a work in development, battling a crisis of confidence. On the other side of the ‘versus’ Affleck’s Batman is a tired, grizzled brawler wrestling with his own demons, and his alter-ego Bruce Wayne is a man of few words. Affleck had the tougher job here – new to the franchise, and with Christian Bale’s recent performances as Batman still fresh in the memory of lots of fans – and he does quite well, all told, with his physical presence emphasised by director and cinematographer Larry Fong, which draws attention away from his limitations as an actor. I’ve certainly seen worse Batmen.

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Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman in BvS:DoJ

It takes an age to get to the promised face-off between the two, with plenty of silly dream sequences and tonally-surprising material interrupting along the way (Superman apparently has no problem killing (Arabic) people, for example, while Batman’s brand of rough justice really does become a brand). Meanwhile all the usual peripheral figures from the old comic books and the previous films drop in and out of the story at irregular intervals: Lois Lane, Perry White, Martha Kent and Alfred Pennyworth are all present and correct and played by big stars whose talents are largely being wasted. When the Batman and Superman fight finally takes place it’s a bit of a let-down, all told, and – considering the long build-up – it’s over with quite quickly; lots of unimaginative smashy-smashy, plenty of by-the-numbers paggery-paggery, and a little bit of seen-it-all-before ouchy-ouchy, before the pair bury the hatchet at a surprising speed. This they do in order to engage in another fight, and their enemy for the final showdown is the Luthor-created Doomsday, an orc-like figure who sends out massive shockwaves and who is capable of destroying entire neighbourhoods in seconds (the script’s insistence on pointing out to the audience that these areas are currently deserted, to head-off those earlier criticisms, is laughable). Of course Snyder is into more comfortable territory by this point, and the battle is every bit as long, loud and noisy as you’d expect. Anyone who has seen Man Of Steel will know what’s coming, though it does feature the notable addition of Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman, who has set many pulses a-racing already and will continue to do so in her own spin-off film, slated for 2017.

Even with my limited comic book knowledge I can see that Snyder and his writers have picked certain well-known titles as influences, in terms of the story, the script, the tone, the costumes and the production design of BvS: Mike Carlin’s Death Of Superman series is perhaps the most obvious, while Frank Miller’s famously-murky graphic novel The Dark Knight Returns is also a touchstone; there are hints to A Death In The Family and, presumably, many others. I actually feel a little more generosity toward the director now than I did a couple of years back, as he has at least successfully drawn on this rich history in order to establish a template for this new DC franchise, even if you do happen to dislike the joyless direction he’s moved it in and the reliance on long, skull-buggering set pieces, as I do myself. The DC films do at least feel distinct from those offered up by Marvel, which are generally lighter and frothier in comparison (Snyder, if anything, is a director who seems to have a deep-rooted mistrust for jokes). My sympathy for the director also increased in the wake of the terrible reviews for BvS that stacked up last week; yes it’s long, messy, loud, way too bleak and riddled with plot holes (how exactly does Lois Lane know to find the spear she has thrown away?), but it’s not that bad. (Lest we forget that this recent film is still stinking out the superhero stable.) I don’t disagree with the general thrust of those poor notices, though; the script is wonky and suffers from overcomplication, you exit feeling like you’ve been bashed over the head for 150 minutes, and the relentless dourness sucks most of the enjoyment out of the process. The superhero films I like contain at least a small degree of fascination with the powers wielded by their subjects, particularly when it comes to Superman, but there’s none of that here. There’s nothing in BvS that thrills in the same way as seeing Christopher Reeve’s Clark Kent/Superman catching a mugger’s bullet for the first time, or saving Lois Lane as she falls from a skyscraper (though BvS does have its own equivalent of the latter), and it’s those moments of wonder that you miss. Snyder peppers his film with impenetrable dream sequences, references to comic book plots and characters that most viewers will miss or not understand, dreary post-9-11 symbolism, glimpses of actors and heroes who will feature in forthcoming Justice League movies and more building destruction than Fred Dibnah managed in a lifetime, but crucially he has failed yet again to add any real magic to proceedings. Only Hans Zimmer’s side of the shared score manages to do so, and only when it sporadically and briefly incorporates the main theme from Man Of Steel.

Directed by: Zack Snyder.
Written by: Chris Terrio, David S. Goyer.
Starring: Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Jesse Eisenberg, Amy Adams, Gal Gadot, Jeremy Irons, Laurence Fishbourne, Diane Lane, Holly Hunter, Scoot McNairy.
Cinematography: Larry Fong.
Editing: David Brenner.
Music:
Hans Zimmer, Junkie XL.
Certificate:
12A.
Running Time:
151 minutes.
Year:
2016.

2 Comments

John Hillcoat’s Triple 9 is one of those cops-versus-robbers thrillers that invites the application of adjectives like taut, or muscular. And it’s apt that those words are normally associated with the human body: this is the kind of film that requires its actors to act tough and look tough, so it’s jam-packed with stars who have clearly been working out at the gymif you were to sniff the screen at any point you’d probably OD on testosterone. All the men here sweat profusely as they do their Man Things, such as loading weapons, robbing banks, shooting other people, grimacing, chasing other men with guns, driving really fast and telling each other to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Then, to remind you that deep down some of them are actually sensitive human beings, and that we should care about their fate, Hillcoat ensures that we see a couple of wives being kissed or the affectionate ruffling of a child’s mop top.

Sadly the film never quite manages to wriggle out from underneath a suffocating blanket of cops-versus-robbers-muscular-taut-thriller clichés. It’s partly about a group of bent cops and ex-military badasses who are performing artfully-planned robberies in Atlanta at the behest of Kate Winslet’s ruthless Russian Mafia boss. As soon as you meet the group you can guess what their fates will be: there’s the leader (Chiwetel Ejiofor) who doesn’t trust a couple of other members of the gang; his loyal right-hand man (Norman Reedus), whose status marks him out as dead meat from the off; the wild one whose mouth is going to get them into trouble (Aaron Paul); a conflicted detective (Anthony Mackie); and a very unconflicted, cold-hearted detective (Clifton Collins, Jr) who is bound to sell everyone down the Chattahoochee at some point. It’s also partly about an honest cop (Casey Affleck) who gets caught up in their plans to steal some kind of MacGuffin or other from a secure facility: the gang’s aim is to create a ‘Triple 9’ diversion in the city by killing Affleck’s cocky detective Chris Allen, thus drawing most of the city’s police force to the scene, and allowing the gang extra time to carry out their theft elsewhere.

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Kate Winslet and Chiwetel Ejiofor in Triple 9

As you can see the chief selling point of the film is the ensemble cast; in addition to those mentioned above Woody Harrelson has a fairly sizeable role as Allen’s coke-snorting, weed-smoking uncle, who also happens to be the baggy-suited Sgt. Detective trailing the bank robbers (you have to regularly ignore such unlikely coincidences during Triple 9). Gal Gadot – at the beginning of a month that will presumably change her life forever, regardless of earlier success and achievement – has a small role as Ejiofor’s girlfriend, who is also the mother of his child and the sister of Winslet’s icy Irina Vaslov. Michael K. Williams and Teresa Palmer also get a scene or two, with Williams’ transvestite informant accessorising with a small dog that has been dyed pink (poor thing). In fact the cast is pretty good, and although we’ve seen many of these characters and scenarios before – Heat and The Town spring to mind – these stars show enough committment to the shouting and grimacing and running and shooting to make Triple 9 work. In particular both Harrelson and Winslet are fun to watch, playing completely over-the-top characters that allow both actors to partake in welcome bouts of scenery-chewing. Of the two, Winslet wisely exercises a little more restraint, while Harrelson can’t help himself.

The action is also of a good standard. An early robbery and getaway attempt via the city’s busy freeway can’t quite match the tension of Heat‘s street shootout or Sicario‘s gripping traffic jam scene, but two later claustrophobic sequences set in housing projects more than make up for it, and allow Mackie and Affleck further opportunites to sweat and practice their grimaces. These are well-handled by the director and his cinematographer, who put you in the middle of proceedings by employing hand-held cameras and shooting in close proximity to the actors. It’s a little disorienting at times, as hand-held camera footage tends to be in action films, but I can’t deny that the overall effect works well. So, given there are edge-of-your-seat sequences and the performances are on the money it’s a shame that Triple 9 is let down by an unremarkable industrial score and an unimaginative screenplay. There’s a bulbous mass of familiar material: as good as the action sequences are, the build up to each one is disappointing, and there’s little original about the numerous scenes set in police stations, the pavement confrontations with Hispanic gangs or the criminals relaxing in strip clubs before their big job. What makes this doubly frustrating is the fact that Triple 9 almost succeeds. Almost. Hillcoat is on the right path, his actors are on board, and I felt sufficiently entertained by the end, but ultimately the film fails to wriggle completely free of the cop action movie pack.

Directed by: John Hillcoat.
Written by: Matt Cook.
Starring: Casey Affleck, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Anthony Mackie, Aaron Paul, Kate Winslet, Woody Harrelson, Clifton Collins, Jr, Norman Reedus, Teresa Palmer, Gal Gadot, Luis Da Silva, Michael K. Williams.
Cinematography: Nicolas Karakatsanis.
Editing: Dylan Tichenor.
Music:
Atticus Ross, Bobby Krlic, Leopold Ross, Claudia Sarne.
Certificate:
15.
Running Time:
115 minutes.
Year:
2016.

9 Comments