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XXX |
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Rating
- 1.5 out of 5 |
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Before the wonderland that was
XXX started, I was treated to a trailer
for New Line Cinema’s upcoming Knockaround
Guys. The content of the actual preview
is inconsequential; what struck me the most
was that one of the cast members, Vin Diesel,
was rarely (if at all) shown in the first
three-quarters of the preview. Those first
three-quarters were all dialogue and plot
set-up. The fourth quarter of the trailer
was entirely action set to heavy metal music,
and in that, Diesel suddenly became the central
character.
I believe that says more about Mr. Diesel’s
acting utility than I ever could. |
Let’s take it from the top: Vin Diesel plays
Xander Cage, an extreme sports star of the first
order. In a nutshell, Cage is the kind of guy who,
in protest to a senator’s right-wing sensibilities
towards rock music and video games, steals said
senator’s car and jumps it off a bridge. This
is not, to my knowledge, an effective lobbying tactic.
No, no, let’s back up. Before that
little piece of brilliance takes place, we are treated
to the failed attempt of a tuxedoed secret agent
attempting (and failing) to infiltrate a nightclub
in Prague that desperately wishes to be the club
from The Crow. All the kids in the club are
tattooed and pierced, with Rammstein providing the
obligatory noise-metal, and the obvious (and belabored)
point is that tuxedoed James Bond types just don’t
cut it in the world of hip 20-somethings.
I concur. Hip 20-somethings also have no means and
no business in taking over the world, except in
movies like this one.
The hip 20-somethings are defectors from the Russian
military, and have given themselves the terminally
stupid name of Anarchy 99. Led by Yorgi (Marton
Csokas), who may even be in his early 30’s,
the plan of Anarchy 99 (giggle) is to destroy all
government, create chaos, kill people, blah blah
blah. The details never matter.
The attention span of the movie resembles that of
a hummingbird on crank. In the first twenty minutes
alone, we are constantly reminded that Xander is
the titular character Triple X. A flash of the “XXX”
tattoo on the back of his neck is shown to us about
every four minutes, just in case we forgot what
we were seeing. The director’s intent in this
is what corporations call “branding”:
flash a particular symbol long enough, and even
the most dimwitted audience member will recognize
it for the rest of their lives.
Consider: at one point, as Cage is undercover and
rubbing elbows with the Anarchy 99 (snicker) fellows,
he comments to one thug that his smoking habit will
be the death of him. To anyone who has ever seen
anything even vaguely resembling an action movie,
this means that thug will inevitably die as a result
of smoking. It’s a given. Nevertheless, when
said thug dies because of his smoking, Diesel is
sure to turn to another character and say “I
told him smoking would be the death of him.”
Thanks, pal.
What XXX strikes out to be is an update on
the 007 films, with the rather grandiose idea of
making that series of films obsolete in the face
of a newer, cruder breed. This is evidenced by the
above-mentioned opening sequence, and is a fine
display of this film’s grasp of subtlety.
That was sarcasm.
So if this movie is meant to surpass the 007 films,
why does it so passionately rip off every single
spy-movie convention it can get its grubby little
hands on? We have the bad guy’s beautiful
girlfriend (Asia Argento, criminally underused)
who is actually undercover, the character who would
be Q were he fifty years older and ten times as
charming (scratch that; ten times zero is still
zero), the M character (Samuel L Jackson), who is
the most interesting character by virtue of the
fact that he’s portrayed by Samuel L Jackson.
Ah, and the action sequences. Those that are even
marginally interesting are completely of the 007
and True Lies ilk. The XXX difference
is to add in snowboards and parachutes. In the words
of Darth Vader, “Yipee.”
Consider: Cage is dashing around a Colombian drug
camp on a motorbike, trying to avoid the Colombian
army helicopters that are shredding the place to
shit. He (somehow) ramps off the roof of a wooden
barn. A helicopter, in pursuit, fires off an M16
rifle and strikes the rooftop. This sends the wooden
barn into a massive explosion – from the bottom
up, mind you – that could topple a skyscraper.
Impressive? Somewhat. Plausible? Not on your life,
pal.
Still, though the movie is bad, it is not offensively
terrible. The dialogue is forgettable, Diesel shows
his usual lack of charisma, and the movie’s
villain would get his ass handed to him by Bond
any day of the week. Hell, even the editing decisions
for the music are unwise. Why have a car chase in
silence, then kick in the metal once the car’s
already two feet from explosion and the whole sequence
nearly over? Despite all this, the movie simply
fails. Nothing more, nothing less.
The Fast and the Furious brought Rob Cohen,
this movie’s director, into the prime time,
and that film is about as good as this one. I can
only speculate why it took off the way it did, but
I’m willing to wager it had something to do
with savvy release scheduling and a total lack of
quality films from other vectors. We can only assume
folks will start to realize that the inmates are
running this particular asylum. |
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| Where to See This Movie:
In your rearview mirror, as you drive the hell
away. |
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