Hola all. Massawyrm here.
God. You know, I hate using a phrase like post-Tarantino, as it sounds more like something an overly literate, stuffy, pompous little douche bag would use to look down his nose at something like this. And hell, several of them just might. But really, it’s the only phrase that applies. Some folks are just gonna hate the living shit out of Smokin’ Aces – comparing this to anything and everything I absolutely love that this borrows from.
You see, Joe Carnahan couldn’t have put together a film more tailor made for me and my tastes unless he also had managed to coerce Keira Knightley and Nora Zehetner to film a Babysitter/schoolgirl make out scene that somehow found its way into the film for five or so minutes. Really. That’s all that was left on the list. For anyone who keeps Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, True Romance, Snatch, Boondock Saints, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Domino and Killing Zoe all on the same shelf because, well, that’s how God intended it, this fucking movie is for you. The bastard child of all of these films, Carnahan takes the very best elements of each and brings them together in a loud, bloody, frenetic bullet festival of carnage as told through the eyes of someone on enough speed and Red Bull to kill a team of Clydesdales.
Imagine, if you will, the last 20 minutes of True Romance stretched out over the course of an hour and a half, just spilling over the edges with cool as all get out felons played by actors you’re not used to seeing in such small roles – and rife with rampant stupidity and bad luck slamming headfirst into the actions of professional killers. It is the styles of Tony Scott, Guy Ritchie, Troy Duffy, Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avery thrown into a blender set on puree and whipped into a nice, frothy, bloody smoothie.
This isn’t at all the Carnahan you’re accustomed to. This has almost zero in common with Narc or his brilliant BMW short, Ticker. Gone is Carnahan’s trademark grit and look, traded in for a slick, heavily edited, highly stylized series of ass beatings and shootouts set to a thumping, hip soundtrack. Now I don’t for one moment believe that this is a true profound change for Carnahan – but rather his sendup to the films that he was reared on and probably watches time and again when he just feels the need to see Christian Slater lose an eye.
But this is gonna get him a world of shit, as the type of douche bags I mentioned back in paragraph one descend with the phrase “Post-Tarantino” and complain about how loud, obnoxious and thinly plotted it is. Not that it isn’t. I mean, plotwise it’s pretty much as thin as they come, just one step above Crank in how much time they dedicate to anything resembling a plot. The plot really comes down to the 10 minutes bookeneded on either end of the film to explain the set up and the wrap up. And even that is just really something of an excuse to get as many badass hitman characters into one building at the exact same time as is feasible only to have them kill each other off one by one. And if that sounds dumb as hell, well this ain’t the movie for you. If you think Post-Tarantino is a swear and far from a positive – then this DEFINITELY ain’t for you.
But, if you’re sitting there, chomping at the bit, wondering just how close this film is to the series of films I keep invoking, let me tell you – it’ll definitely sit proudly on that DVD shelf, brother. This movie is seriously fun. At times hilarious, riotous and WAY over the top – this is a comedy for AICN types. It is, however, rooted in reality enough to never get to the level of silliness that something like Crank does, and feels closer to something like Snatch without the accents. The comedy is almost entirely character driven or dependant on how over the top the gore and violence gets.
And boy howdy does this little fucker get violent. If you have issues with blood and gore onscreen, this movie is absolutely, positively not for you. Blood and limbs find their way splattered all over the hotel set over the course of 90 minutes in some pretty spectacular ways. High caliber bullets, chainsaws, metal spikes, shotguns, pistols – you fucking name it. This film is a checklist of all the ways to unsafely remove fingers, limbs and eyes. And I hope to god you don’t get too attached to many of the main characters – because they become surprisingly expendable roughly fifteen minutes into the movie.
Of course, all of this doesn’t mean that this is devoid of the sharp intelligence and visual acuity that Carnahan has shown us previously. There’s a fine art to making an over the top film as entertaining as this – and this is clearly the work of someone who knows exactly what the fuck they’re doing. This isn’t mindless. It’s not just a collection of cool characters foisted together in a slapdash manner and left to their own goofy ends. This is a carefully woven ballet of cinematic bloodletting – a carefully sculpted effort of crime filmmaking that becomes one hell of a loud clusterfuck of a climax.
Yes. This really is an hour and a half of gratuitous, violent entertainment. And no, it’s not going to garner heaps of awards or critical acclaim. It is a fun, explosive ride that will be one hell of a good time – if this is your sort of thing. I dug the shit out of it and absolutely can’t wait to see it again. But it certainly isn’t going to set the critic world aflame, and many will complain that Carnahan has just spent all the juice and capital he earned with his previous efforts – but by the same token, he’s gonna get himself a whole lotta geek love and devotion from loyalists to this kind of filmmaking.
Probably the most fun you’re gonna have in theatres this January, this comes Highly Recommended to anyone that has a deep seeded love for at least most of the films I mentioned...and definitely Strongly Ill-Advised for anyone that hates violent films or thinks that Quentin Tarantino is one of the worst things to ever happen to the filmmaking world. While I certainly don’t think this is a niche film, it really is going to have its chorus of loud detractors ready to eviscerate it for being senseless entertainment. And frankly, that’s why I want to celebrate the beautiful, gory little thing.
Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.
Massawyrm
ENGLISH MOTHER FUCKER! DO YOU SPEAK IT?!? Cause, you know, if you do, you could always e-mail me here. Or something.
