Falling Down

Joel Schumacher's Falling Down provocatively asks the question, "is ill-composed vigilantism more troublesome than it's worth?"

As a down-on-his-luck somewhat rigid individual finds himself stuck in another traffic jam, and rather than patiently waiting it out, decides it's time to abandon his car and walk (Michael Douglas as D-Fens).

His journey begins at a local convenience store where he critiques their elevated prices, haggling to bring down the cost of a Coca-Cola, before tearing the place asunder.

He then proceeds to walk through gang territory where he's suddenly asked to pay toll, his stubborn refusal instigating violence which eventually leaves him with a bag full of weapons.

He can't accept that he's divorced and prohibited form spending time with his daughter, and wants to see her on her birthday without any desire to make amends.

Meanwhile a cop is retiring after having worked several years behind a desk (Robert Duvall as Prendergast), for which he's frustratingly insulted by his Captain (Raymond J. Barry), who thinks he shouldn't have played it safe.

He's played it safe because he loves his wife who made significant sacrifices to marry him (Tuesday Weld), and has become somewhat neurotic over the years, trying to deal with grim potentialities. 

He's sympathetic and understanding and does his best to go with the flow, accepting idiosyncrasy and peculiarity particularized par for the communal course.

As D-Fens travels across L.A becoming more and more irate as the hours pass, Prendergast takes note of his comings and goings then heads out to solve one more case.

Falling Down presents sustained criticism of vexing realities taken for granted, from two similar yet divergent perspectives interrogating alternative paths seeking reason.

I've never understood waiting for hours and hours every working day in traffic, if the métro's a possibility it can save time and facilitate reading.

Convenience stores are convenient, why does it matter if things cost a little more? If my hair's eventually going to turn grey, it won't be because I spent a little extra on snacks.

You witness a vitriolic exchange while shopping for who knows what, if it's apparent the owner's unhinged, why do you hang around?

Job creation's essential, better to have people working then idle and irritated, even if the creation of work is at times perhaps not as rational as logic would hope.

It's still fun to attentively watch as D-Fens actively vents his frustration, as he heads from one worst case scenario to another, and takes on peeps just as angry and stubborn.

He goes way too far of course although I imagine others think he should have gone further.

A day spent crossing every line.

No limits, no rations, no quarter. 

Bad Boys for Life

Time has past and methods of fighting crime have adapted, yet Detective Mike Lowrey (Will Smith) still applies old school reckonings to the volatile realm within which he plays.

But he's been shot down by an unknown assailant who ballistically came calling during flippant carefree fun.

Distraught partner Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) invokes divine intervention to aid his robust recovery, while settling into retired life, unsure of his stable routine.

And a new team lies in wait after Lowrey fully recovers, tech savvy yet lacking daring, led by precise pragmatic vision (Paola Nuñez as Rita).

Will the unstable mix of strategic planning and sheer impudence produce exclamatory results as the vengeful track and yearn?

Will Mr. Lowrey see something beyond the unattached ephemeral as his work with Rita progresses?

Will irresolvable speculation lead Mr. Burnett to once again contend, as clues manifest probabilities, and teamwork vests credulity?

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence irresistibly back at it and then some, bringing vocal spirits to the lively fore, after a considerably withdrawn hiatus.

They've still got it, that defiant spark from long ago, reciprocal mutually constructive disarray that contextualizes stark contention.

Lawrence's aggrieved summative evaluations add hyper-reactive humour, while Smith's intense driven presence keeps things seriously grounded, hewn.

It's like Martin and Fresh Prince still asserting themselves after all these years, a rare treat if you grew up watching both shows, still appealing to new audiences regardless.

The new recruits diversify its holdings and introduce less combative by-the-book character, not that they aren't ready to head out in the field, but their manners are much more reserved.

Unless provoked.

They even find remarkably well-integrated cover diggin' deep at local night clubs.

It's a solid 20th/21st century blend skilfully synthesized by Adil & Bilall.

It takes Lowrey and Burnett a long time to figure out who's oppressing them, and considering who's been shot their response time lacks speed, but the patient reflective struggle does build quite the crescendo (it's a cool ending), with a Vaderesque reversal, back before it all began.

Bad Boys for Life provides a fierce yet thoughtful narrative that reimagines age old themes, this variation as technologically infatuated as it is with mobile practice.

Okay, it's more infatuated with direct action which is certainly a good thing, a chillin' break from the cold calculation that qualifies so much daily life.

Judging by the responses of North American audiences there's still something to be said for interpersonal relations.

Technology may be astounding.

But it can't replace face-to-face conversation.

Red

I liked Robert Schwentke's Red even though there's not much to it. I recommend it if and only if you're searching for a mildly entertaining brain numbing occasionally amusing action flick wherein several old-school big names (Helen Mirren, Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, John Malkovich, Richard Dreyfuss, Ernest Borgnine) give a Space Cowboys salute to their careers. I was glad to see Brian Cox included in the cast. Even though his career hasn't had as many leading roles, he's definitely demonstrated a robust dynamic multidimensional integrity over the years (as if casting personnel Deborah Aquila and Mary Tricia Wood are saying "you, Brian Cox, are the ultimate mainstream supporting actor"). The next generation is represented by Karl Urban who has demonstrated his abilities in films such as The Chronicles of Riddick, Star Trek, and Pathfinder, and he resignedly holds his own throughout. The film vilifies American atrocities committed in Central America during the 1980s and while this is good it's as if its structure is saying that it's to bad it took the American mainstream 25 years to catch up. The internal dynamics point out how hard it is to prevent such things from happening if you're solely concerned with advancing your own personal agenda, unless that agenda is designed to prevent such things from happening.

O'Horten

Bent Hamer's O'Horten examines the life and times of the shy and modest Odd Horten (Bård Owe) as he retires after 40 odd years of driving a train. The tale is pleasantly offbeat and pastorally piquant, quaintly following Horten's adventures throughout urban and rural Norway. His routine is solid and his disaffected and curious demeanour allows him to make new friends while maintaining old relationships as well. Sauntering along at a seductively subdued pace, the bizarre situations and precise improvisations bear a detached realistic resonance that haplessly disseminates charm. Bit slow at points and remarkably awkward (yet familiar), O'Horten's fugitively quotidian individualism will still likely produce two to three comfortable shakes of the head as viewers sit back and absorb the characterization.

Gran Torino

Clint Eastwood's back at it again playing and directing the lovably cantankerous and bitter hero of Gran Torino. Walt Kowalski tells it like he sees it, holding back nothing, ever, period. Does he want to confess his sins to an overeducated virgin straight out of the seminary (Christopher Carley): no he does not. Does he want to have a potentially soul searching conversation with his acquisitive granddaughter (Dreama Walker): once again, no. Does he want to do anything that doesn't fit his perfectly prescribed and particular way of doing things: shit no. There's a routine, he knows it well, he follows it, that's it, end of story.

Until he catches pesky Thao Vang Lor (Bee Vang) trying to steal his prized Gran Torino from his garage one night. At first, his response is predictable: stay the hell off my lawn I should have shot you yap yip. But his wife has died and he has nothing to do so he begins to take an interest in his shy sensitive neighbour, especially after a local gang tries to unconditionally recruit him. Walt sticks up for young Thao but the gangland politics prove to be pernicious, leaving him stuck between his rock and their hard place, searching for a strict solution to a grizzly state of affairs. Basically, he's lived his whole life quietly suffering from his war wounds and now has a chance to vindicate himself for his crimes. So he digs in his heels and responds with his gut, eventually providing a shattered family with a sincere degree of holistic satisfaction.

It's Clint Eastwood at his best, delivering another strong performance in a downtrodden caustic tragedy stripped straight from the hood. Can one curmudgeony man's dying attempt to befriend a neighbour make up for a lifetime of familial and communal neglect? Why yes, yes it can, and Gran Torino illustrates how seriously affective one man's commitment to solidarity can be, this is a bar padre, you'll have a drink, she likes you, go with it, yeah.