Ray Liotta strikes again.
He could never entirely break free of the psycho/gangster/dodgy cop role, but he made the most of what scripts he got.
As Lt. Henry Oak, he’s a less flashy, more jaded and tortured Alonzo Harris in this relentless thriller. The plot is a bit too convoluted for what is meant to be a slice of realism, but it’s not silly and the style – ‘70s docu-style throwback – works.
And the opening is quite the shaky cam with a legit purpose.
This movie was so smug on a brutal level. All it does is throw in your face how successful these lads are, and it’s somehow our privilege to watch these glorious thesps pratfall and offer a surfeit of unremarkable one-liners. A crappy heist caper based on a crappy Rat Pack heist caper, this is another one of those films that should be trivial entertainment to pass the time, but is simply too annoying to enjoy.
There’s no comedy here, no drama, and nothing and no one to like.
Dull multiplex fodder with numerous sequels, I thoroughly hated it and hope you do too.
Hot on the heels of Top Gun: Maverick (2022), here’s another inevitable remake/reboot/belated sequel. Because these are for the most part guaranteed cash cows, you can understand the need for the movie bankers to hedge their bets and continue to pump out ‘distinguished IP’ movies or whatever they’re called – recognised characters and milieus.
Beverly Hills Cop (1984) is a wonderful motion picture of its time and still holds up – funny, thrilling, violent, smart enough, and with a protagonist who would entertain in any 90-minute premise. The sequel is a less good carbon copy but still serviceable and with the added bonus of Brigitte Nielsen yelling at folk to “eat the floor!”. Let’s not discuss the third one in the canon, as it does not exist, much akin to Rocky V (1990).
And here we arrive at Axel F (2024).
It’s not bad at all; moreover, it’s funny. The best part? It isn’t a PG-13.
Disregard the generic story and workmanlike direction as this isn’t worthy of recommendation aside from one factor: the ever perplexing, permanently dazzling presence that is Nicolas Cage. Star (or feature attraction) of what must be 4,000 movies, he transforms the mediocre into the mediocre … with a cherry (Cage) on the top.
And David Caruso appears in a leading role. He lost his way in that regard but he’s okay in this.
I went to school with a lad who would scream, “The bridge is out, the bridge is out.” This was conducted at random intervals, my introduction to True Lies (1994).
Ludicrous story but pure entertainment and James Cameron gets away with it, mainly for the esoteric banter that is Bill Paxton. The lad defines enthusiasm and lights up every bit of celluloid he’s in. He has been missed.
It’s coarse and childish and it’s 1994. Stick to Bill Paxton and the action. Skip or mute anything with Tom Arnold.
And marvel at the other Arnold on a horse … in a shopping mall.
2/5.
A.K.A. the Meg Ryan movie that isn’t an insufferable rom-com – there is no diner buffoonery or a premise based around emails (it was 1998, I suppose) here. And she is fine in this. One might even mistake her for an actual actor, and I can comfortably say the same about Lou Diamond Phillips, who excels in this overlooked war drama as the dodgy one.
Nothing wrong with this film at all. Denzel great as always, a young Matt Damon shows up looking like a rake, the action is cracking, the story easy to follow, no thematic minefields on display, and I learned a few things watching it.
I’ll pass this knowledge on to someone one day if we ever discuss the Gulf War.
Mostly boring, thoroughly pointless and without worth. When does this zombie claptrap end? It’s not interesting on any level. Such pish. I won’t be watching again.
Shite.
‘It would require a great philosopher and historian to explain the causes of the famous Seven Years’ War, in which Europe was engaged, and in which Barry’s regiment was now on its way to take part. Let it suffice to say that England and Prussia were allies … and at war against the French, the Swedes, the Russians, and the Austrians.’
^Saved you half an hour on Wikipedia.
Donald Sutherland, above, as Vernon L. Pinkley in The Dirty Dozen (1967), where it all began.
The classics are numerous, the performances consummate and … just unusual and weird in an unearthly way. He excelled at the oddball, and even when he played it straight you kept watching to see twitches of strangeness. Famously, he was never nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award. But what the fuck do they know? Roberto Benigni won that accolade. I mean, wow ….
Also, for years I thought that Donald Sutherland was Irish. He wasn’t.
Talk about intensity (quiet and loud) from two leads – Jackman and Gyllenhaal not so much as going mano a mano but progressively losing their shit over the shared aim of finding the kidnapped.
Suburbia’s manky underbelly gets the full dissection here, law enforcement a rule-bend away from a jeopardised case. A despairing movie full of anguish and desperation, it’s not exactly a date-night gig with pizza and nibbles.
But that’s life.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 