I'm going to put a price on your head so big, that when you look in the mirror your reflection's gonna want to shoot you in the face.
The Mechanic
(2011)
Are the Stath and Simon West the new Scorsese/Di Caprio? In a
B-movie, not very exciting sort of way? First came the above title. Then, in
quick succession, The Expendables 2
and next a remake of forgotten ‘80s Burt Reynolds-starrer Heat (from William Goldman both times out, no less). Maybe great
things beckon for the duo. Nah. The
Mechanic is also a remake, from the now departed auteur Michael Winner and
the Olivier of his generation Charles Bronson. Clearly West and Jason Statham
had a lot to live up to.
The original script for Bronson version made play of a homosexual
undertone between Bronson’s hitman and young apprentice Jan-Michael Vincent
(his character is the son of a boss-man Bronson has just offed). It didn’t make
it to the final film, and one would be hard-pressed to argue for more than a
passing suggestion of its presence in the remake (Sutherland suggests that the
Stath needs companionship, and soon after he takes Foster under his wing; when
the two discuss going underground, it briefly seems as if they may elope
together). That said, it’s baffling why the Stath’s super professional Arthur
Bishop decides to take on Ben Foster’s head-case Steve except out of guilt over
having topped his one-time mentor (and Foster’s dad) Donald Sutherland. The
closest the movie gets to assigning supressed undercurrents to all this
machismo is during Steve’s first job, where the target is a gay hit man with whom
Foster must inveigle himself. The messy altercation between Steve and this
contract killer (Jeff Chase) is the high point of the movie.
Foster’s an under-appreciated actor, and he’s the best thing
here, even if his part isn’t up to much. He makes the Stath seem more nuanced
than he is, no small feat. I like the Stath, of course, but the B-movie Bruce
Willis label only applies as a mirror to the later, humourless Bruno. Stath’s a
straight man action man; funny stuff can happen around him (see Crank) but if he tries to crack wise you
the tumbleweeds start gathering in earnest.
Along for the ride is Tony Goldwyn who, when he isn’t
directing, has a side-line in TV and movie villains. Which is to say, casting
him is a massive giveaway if the initial intention is for his character to seem
honest or friendly.
But Simon West has somehow made profit from a career of
crashing insensitivity to plotting, pacing, staging and editing. Still he keeps
going. His debut Con Air is a
horrible mess of a production that retains a certain cult appeal due to the
array of great actors, and Scott Rosenberg’s script. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider was a big hit, in spite of proving that he
had no idea how to make a coherent movie. In the last few years he’s staged
something of a comeback with medium budget (meaning, expected to make their
dough back in rentals) fare, although The
Expendables gig may have been a boost to his bankability. He’s probably ascended
to the league of a serviceable helmer; sub-Michael Bay, without the
inventiveness (not really a compliment) to create that kind of deranged
spectacle. There are a few effective set pieces in The Mechanic, but where it works it is due to the plundering of the
reasonably solid the original script and lucking-in with Foster. West’s
advertising background has never left him, which means his scenes always feel
as if they are composed of unconnected shots rather than meshing together
organically. And his tin ear is there for all to hear during the musical
montages, which are more than faintly embarrassing.
The Stath keeps churning them out, movies with brief titles
than meld into one when you see the posters or read the plot synopsis. But you
have to credit him with knowing his core audience. The Mechanic is an agreeable time-passer, but it’s no Transporter 2. Then again, few movies
are.
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