Hola all. Massawyrm here.

Once in a great while there comes along a very special film that teeters delicately upon the edge of what separates what is very good from what is very bad. This is that film. Street Kings is a grilled cheese sandwich with three different kinds of cheese, a greasy spoon delicacy that doesn’t on the surface seem to be anything special, but sure hits the fucking spot if you’re ready to wolf it down. Is it a “good” film? No. Dear god no. It is riddled with a number of problems that would cripple an ordinary film. But Street Kings is no ordinary film.

If Street Kings has cinematic family anywhere out there, it would be the hardcore, asshole cousin of Fast and the Furious. I mean, how “good” was FatF? It was a hulking, sweaty, monument to machismo that simply dripped with testosterone. But you would be hard pressed to find someone out there who doesn’t dig the hell out of the semi-retarded little thing. This? This is the cousin that used to come over and kick the shit out of that movie when they were kids. Fuck machismo. Street Kings is a flat out two hour pissing contest in which a number of cinematic luminaries each walk in front of the camera to take their turn chewing up the scenery and screaming their best riffs on “You want the truth, you can’t handle the truth!” Every time someone proves just how hardcore a mother fucker he is, someone else has to show up to prove how harder core and mothery fuckerier he is.

I’m not kidding. It’s a dick-measuring contest at 120 decibels. And god damn if it wasn’t fun as all hell to watch.

Look. Some of the dialog in this is very, very, bad. Not eye-rollingly-bad. Howlingly-funny-bad. There’s a moment in which Keanu is leaning over one of his friends who has just been gunned down. Now I’m not talking about taking a few rounds to the chest. I’m talking about full clips from two machines guns at close range to the chest. The guy is fucking hamburger. Keanu reaches down and grabs his arm - which I can only imagine is still attached to the torso by only the thinnest threads of tendon - looks into his eyes and shouts “Stay with me!” Then we cut back to his buddy who has bled out a puddle so large you could water ski over it. I about shit myself. You can’t help yourself. You laugh. This film is filled with moments like this.

And yet, when this film isn’t being a cliché riddled stereotype machine, well, it is actually pretty fucking awesome. There are some lines of dialog so good that it’s criminal. And there isn’t a piss poor moment of action in the whole film. When it’s not about guys verbally one upping each other, the film is about some bad mother fuckers killing one another. Violently, ruthlessly and without hesitation. I mean, this is (hand to god) a James Ellroy story of greed and police corruption in Los Angeles, told through the lens of the guy who wrote Training Day and Dark Blue (David Ayer.) If there’s two guys who have built careers out of writing about corruption in the Los Angeles police department, it’s these two. While this is never, ever on par with the best of either of these guys – it is a hell of a lot more fun than these two have ever been allowed to be.

While dark, gritty and unflinching in its portrayal of violence, this film is just a good time. It is a loud, entertaining, popcorn chomping thrill ride. This is that summer film that the studio knew didn’t have the juice to compete in July, so they released it early. Ass beating, taut chases, high comedy (both intentional and un) and a parade of cool actors all given the chance to ham it up. This. Thing. Rocks.

Hell, even Keanu is given his chance to shine once again, perfectly cast as the guy who just never quite can figure out what the fuck is going on around him. Here he is, smack dab in the single most obvious plot this side of a Scooby Doo caper, and yet because it’s Keanu, you totally buy it when he confronts the master mind and gives a gruff, confused, squinty eyed “Wah….you mean…?” (Again, funny.) Yes, dingleberry. Even the eight year old behind me who couldn’t stop asking his mom why this and why that the whole fucking movie figured it out back in reel two. Now get on with it.

I don’t have to tell you not to take this too seriously. Street Kings won’t let you take it too seriously. It, while I’m guessing unintentionally, strikes a perfect balance between the goofy and the serious and becomes its own beast, something both very dumb but very enjoyable. The nose in the air crowd is gonna hate the shit out of this thing, but the hat-turned-sideways crowd is gonna put this on a pedestal on their altar of cool invoking Grand Theft Auto and Scarface. For the rest of us, it’s just a damned good time. Take some friends and involve beer if at all possible. But enjoy it on the big screen. It’s just that kind of film.

Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.

Massawyrm

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