Run All
Night
(2015)
(SPOILERS) I
quite like that we’re being “treated” to this never-ending run of Liam Neeson
thrillers, some of which aren’t called Taken.
None of them have actually been really good, but for a spell several have
fooled you into thinking they might be. A common factor in the better ones is
Spanish director Jaume Collet-Serra, a director stylish enough, but not nearly
auteurish enough, to make the unofficial trilogy he’s completed with Neeson
feel nothing at all like an unofficial trilogy.
Run All Night is the best of
the three, and like the others it kicks off with enough gumption – for a good
hour – to suggest this will be a non-stop, edge-of-the-seat ride into the
unknown. Or night, at any rate, as Neeson’s ex mob enforcer Jimy Conlon finds
himself on the wrong side of his friend and boss Shawn Maguire (Ed Harris) and
has precious hours to make things right. But then, the movie just sort of loses
steam, never really quite fizzling out but making you wish you hadn’t got vaguely
excited for its potential.
Part of the
initial appeal is the calibre of the cast. Neeson, increasingly adopting the star
posture of an elder, more hirsute Jason Statham but with less sense of humour,
has no option but to raise his game opposite the likes of Harris and Joel
Kinnaman as estranged son Mike. And the actual premise is diverting, as Jimmy, formerly
Jimmy the Gravedigger, now a drunk haunted by his many acts of murder, shoots
Maguire’s unhinged son Danny (Boyd Holbrook, who also appeared with Neeson in
the also half-decent A Walk Among the
Tombstones) dead before he can kill Mike, who has witnessed Danny’s
anti-social antics. Shawn, only hours before comforting Jimmy and promising “Wherever we’re going, when we cross that
line, we’re going together”, doesn’t even like his son, but as a father he
loves him and so promises furious vengeance; he’ll kill Mike and make Jimmy view
the evidence, and then he’ll kill Jimmy.
So it’s up to Jimmy to make sure Mike survives the night,
with some dyspeptic bonding en route, plus altercations with cops on the
payroll, encounters with ones who aren’t (Vincent D’Onofrio in a stock role,
but still solid), and small but memorable roles for Bruce McGill, Nick Nolte
and Holt McCallanay. There’s a gripping car chase, a cat-and-mouse on a subway
platform, a bruising fight in a men’s room, and several conversations and meets
between Jimmy and Shawn. But then Shawn calls in hitman Common, who instantly
susses that Jimmy has a cabin retreat (because people in thrillers always have
cabin retreats, all the better for a showdown) but singularly fails to finish
him and his son off when he gets the chance.
The momentum is lost from this point, and Jimmy even has
time to visit his ailing ma in hospital before heading for a shootout with
Shawn, whereupon he dispatches his friend with surprising swiftness. That’s a
pleasant surprise in a way (not so much that it leads to an entirely
predictable aftermath with Common at said cabin), but more a disappointment as
one was hoping for something meaty; why cast Harris if you aren’t going to make
the most of him? Brad Inglesby also co-wrote the ultimately disappointing Out of the Furnace (although the fault
there, giving him the benefit of the doubt, may be Scott Cooper, who ensured Black Mass was less than the sum of its
parts), and there’s a feeling this could have gone a number of ways, but ends
up just slickly forgettable, withdrawing from any tendency to weightiness the
premise offers.
Collet-Serra has little inclination for such contemplation,
of course. He’s all about the veneer, but he’s good with veneer. His scenic transitions
are a step too far, however, as he lifts off from one point in the city and
arrives at the next in a single extended shot. It’s attention-grabbing, but not
nearly as arresting as it sounds, and also at odds with what is, in essence, a
down-and-dirty family drama. He’s complemented in his mission by a strong,
tense, driving score from Junkie XL, which only pauses for the obligatory
inclusion of The Pogues (it’s set at Christmas and features Irish-Americans,
but one wonders how much the latter was due to Neeson’s involvement and how
much the former sprang from a desire to include the band’s most famous song).
Neeson’s making it a Collet-Serra quadrilogy next, with The Commuter lining up for release (that’s Neeson, commutin’ and shootin’).
I have no problem watching another of their collaborations; they’re far more
fun than the Takens and,
Collet-Serra’s a veritable Scorsese compared to the likes of Olivier Megaton,
but there’s a nagging sense these two might actually makes something great together one day, if they made a pact
to keep their peepers peeled for a really strong script.
