I mean to beat you to death, and drink your blood from a boot.

Jack Reacher

Blessed with one of the worst movie posters in recent memory (a Photoshop job that makes Cruise look like one of those giant bobbleheads; not the one heading up this review, mercifully) and a blandest of the bland title, this turns out to be a highly enjoyable back-to-basics thriller. Sophomore director Christopher McQuarrie (also adapting Lee Childs’ novel One Shot) brings a welcome visceral quality to the action, making a fairly basic detective plot seem like a breath of fresh air when the competition tends to be CGI’d up to the eyeballs.

Ex-military policeman, now Littlest Hobo-like drifter, Jack Reacher arrives in Pittsburgh (or, at least, that’s where it was filmed) to investigate a lone gunman shooting spree. The alleged shooter is someone he investigated years ago, so Jack is surprised to conclude that the man is innocent and that these were not just random killings. He teams up with a defence lawyer (Rosamund Pike) and at every turn reveals his highly-honed deductive skills, as well as engaging in frequent bouts of fisticuffs.

Part of the appeal is how traditional the storyline is, in an age of plot construction that is more about tying set pieces together than turning in a properly crafted script. No doubt due to its pulpy source material., this has a proper mystery to be solved before it turns its attention to Jack bringing justice. And McQuarrie knows his structure such that, overlong though it is, you’re kept involved throughout. The less successful aspects never really dent enjoyment, and one suspects they were present in the source material. The inevitable revelation of a bad guy you thought was a good guy has insufficient motivation, so it seems like an enormous convenience. Elsewhere, the myth-making dialogue concerning Reacher’s skills and philosophy crosses the boundary from mildly cheesy into out-and-out laughable.

But the director brings a sure eye to the action and has a strong sense of pacing. When Jack has a fight it’s satisfying not just because of the classic scenario of the outnumbered protagonist outmatching his opponents but because McQuarrie ensures the framing and cutting are clean and crisp. There’s a car chase where the camera repeatedly pulls up against the front end of Reacher’s car, making the sequence exhilaratingly immediate and physical; it’s not a new technique, but the employment of it feels vital.

Cruise has, of course, been much criticised for taking on the role of Reacher, as he bears no resemblance to the character in the books. I can’t call him on that, not having read any of them. For much of the time his performance wouldn’t be out of place in the average non-Jack Reacher Cruise movie, except that his dialogue is noticeably sharper and less self-congratulatory (it’s others who worship Reacher’s superheroics). The main difference is that there’s no watering down of the character’s moral code, which sees him behaving in a manner close to a Charles Bronson-type than your traditional Cruise hero.

The supporting cast include a couple of stand-out turns. Wernor Herzog, made up with a glassy contact lens and missing digits, is a believable representation of evil incarnate. His character’s name (the Zec) sounds like something out of kid’s cartoon, however. Jai Courtney, soon to be seen as John McClane’s son, steals the film from Cruise whenever he appears. It’s a younger, more maliciously charismatic, role that reminds you that Hollywood’s premier Scientologist is getting on a bit. Pike’s fine but Richard Jenkins and David Oyelowo are wasted in underwritten parts.

It looks like a Jack Reacher follow-up hinges on the international territories where the film is yet to open. But if it’s that touch-and-go I wouldn’t bet on it. A shame, as there’s potential here for a couple more (as long as the plots continue to be involving; character development clearly isn’t the key to Lee Childs’ series). Still, if nothing else it has provided Christopher McQuarrie with a strong calling for his next stint behind the megaphone (Mission: Impossible 5 has been rumoured).

***1/2

Comments

You're not only wrong. You're wrong at the top of your voice.

Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)
I’ve seen comments suggesting that John Sturges’ thriller hasn’t aged well, which I find rather mystifying. Sure, some of the characterisations border on the cardboard, but the director imbues the story with a taut, economical backbone.

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

She was addicted to Tums for a while.

Marriage Story (2019)
(SPOILERS) I don’t tend to fall heavily for Noah Baumbach fare. He’s undoubtedly a distinctive voice – even if his collaborations with Wes Anderson are the least of that director’s efforts – but his devotion to an exclusive, rarefied New York bubble becomes ever more off-putting with each new project. And ever more identifiable as being a lesser chronicler of the city’s privileged quirks than his now disinherited forbear Woody Allen, who at his peak mastered a balancing act between the insightful, hilarious and self-effacing. Marriage Story finds Baumbach going yet again where Woody went before, this time brushing up against the director’s Ingmar Bergman fixation.

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

Django Unchained (2012)
(MINOR SPOILERS) Since the painful misstep of Grindhouse/Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino has regained the higher ground like never before. Pulp Fiction, his previous commercial and critical peak, has been at very least equalled by the back-to-back hits of Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. Having been underwhelmed by his post Pulp Fiction efforts (albeit, I admired his technical advances as a director in Kill Bill), I was pleasantly surprised by Inglourious Basterds. It was no work of genius (so not Pulp Fiction) by any means, but there was a gleeful irreverence in its treatment of history and even to the nominal heroic status of its titular protagonists. Tonally, it was a good fit for the director’s “cool” aesthetic. As a purveyor of postmodern pastiche, where the surface level is the subtext, in some ways he was operating at his zenith. Django Unchained is a retreat from that position, the director caught in the tug between his all-important aesthetic pr…

You must find the keys for me!

Doctor Who The Keys of Marinus
Most of the criticisms levelled at The Keys of Marinus over the past 50 years have been fair play, and yet it’s a story I return to as one of the more effortlessly watchable of the Hartnell era. Consequently, the one complaint I can’t really countenance is that it’s boring. While many a foray during this fledgling period drags its heels, even ones of undeniable quality in other areas, Marinus’ shifting soils and weekly adventures-in-miniature sustain interest, however inelegant the actual construction of those narratives may be. The quest premise also makes it a winner; it’s a format I have little resistance to, even when manifested, as here, in an often overtly budget-stricken manner.

Doctor Who has dabbled with the search structure elsewhere, most notably across The Key to Time season, and ultimately Marinus’ mission is even more of a MacGuffin than in that sextology, a means to string together what would otherwise be vignettes to little overall coherence…

So you made contact with the French operative?

Atomic Blonde (2017)
(SPOILERS) Well, I can certainly see why Focus Features opted to change the title from The Coldest City (the name of the graphic novel from which this is adapted). The Coldest City evokes a noirish, dour, subdued tone, a movie of slow-burn intrigue in the vein of John Le Carré. Atomic Blonde, to paraphrase its introductory text, is not that movie. As such, there’s something of a mismatch here, of the kind of Cold War tale it has its roots in and the furious, pop-soaked action spectacle director David Leitch is intent on turning it into. In the main, his choices succeed, but the result isn’t quite the clean getaway of his earlier (co-directed) John Wick.

Poor Easy Breezy.

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019)
(SPOILERS) My initial reaction to Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood was mild disbelief that Tarantino managed to hoodwink studios into coming begging to make it, so wilfully perverse is it in disregarding any standard expectations of narrative or plotting. Then I remembered that studios, or studios that aren’t Disney, are desperate for product, and more especially, product that might guarantee them a hit. Quentin’s latest appears to be that, but whether it’s a sufficient one to justify the expense of his absurd vanity project remains to be seen.

I just hope my death makes more cents than my life.

Joker (2019)
(SPOILERS) So the murder sprees didn’t happen, and a thousand puff pieces desperate to fan the flames of such events and then told-ya-so have fallen flat on their faces. The biggest takeaway from Joker is not that the movie is an event, when once that seemed plausible but not a given, but that any mainstream press perspective on the picture appears unable to divorce its quality from its alleged or actual politics. Joker may be zeitgeisty, but isn’t another Taxi Driver in terms of cultural import, in the sense that Taxi Driver didn’t have a Taxi Driver in mind when Paul Schrader wrote it. It is, if you like, faux-incendiary, and can only ever play out on that level. It might be more accurately described as a grubbier, grimier (but still polished and glossy) The Talented Ripley, the tale of developing psychopathy, only tailored for a cinemagoing audience with few options left outside of comic book fare.

To defeat the darkness out there, you must defeat the darkness inside yourself.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010)
Easily the best of the Narnia films, which is maybe damning it with faint praise.

Michael Apted does a competent job directing (certainly compared to his Bond film - maybe he talked to his second unit this time), Dante Spinotti's cinematography is stunning and the CGI mostly well-integrated with the action.

Performance-wise, Will Poulter is a stand-out as a tremendously obnoxious little toff, so charismatic you're almost rooting for him. Simon Pegg replaces Eddie Izzard as the voice of Reepicheep and delivers a touching performance.
***

It always seems a bit abstract, doesn’t it? Other people dying.

Game of Thrones Season Six
(SPOILERS) The most distracting thing about Season Six of Game of Thrones (and I’ve begun writing this at the end of the seventh episode, The Broken Man) is how breakneck its pace is, and how worryingly – only relatively, mind – upbeat it’s become. Suddenly, characters are meeting and joining forces, not necessarily mired in pits of despair but actually moving towards positive, attainable goals, even if those goals are ultimately doomed (depending on the party concerned). It feels, in a sense, that liberated from George R R Martin’s text, producers are going full-throttle, and you half-wonder if they’re using up too much plot and revelation too quickly, and will run out before the next two seasons are up. Then, I’m naturally wary of these things, well remembering how Babylon 5 suffered from packing all its goods into Season Four and was then given an ultimately wasted final season reprieve.

I’ve started this paragraph at the end of the eighth episode, No One (t…

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog