After surviving the running jumping shooting and chasing from the first two Transporters Frank Martin (Statham) once again finds himself mixed up in mayhem. The latest “package” he is to deliver consists of Valentina (Natalya Rudakova) the kidnapped daughter of a powerful European politician (Jeroen Krabbe) who is being blackmailed by bad guys. Unless Frank delivers Valentina to those aforementioned bad guys he’ll go boom! See he’s been outfitted with a metal bracelet that will blow up if he strays too far from his beloved BMW. But as you might expect Frank is not one to take this sort of thing lying down and it’s not long before he’s turning the tables on his tormentors. What follows is the expected barrage of fisticuffs (choreographed by Corey Yuen) firepower and ferocity but all of it seems arbitrary this time as if the filmmakers are merely fulfilling a contractual obligation. The first Transporter was passable junk but the sequels have just been junk. Even fans may be turned off by the sheer overwhelming sense of familiarity. Statham is as buff and tough as ever but even he appears weary. Frank Martin is not a role with much depth or dimension which is patently obvious the third time around. Francois Berleand is also back as Inspector Tarconi by now Frank’s bosom buddy but always bringing up the rear. As the principal villain Robert Knepper scowls growls glowers and delivers the immortal line: “My name is not important.” Neither is the film he’s saying it in. Saving the worst for last is newcomer Rudakova making as inauspicious a screen debut as any actress in recent memory. With way too much eye shadow this freckle-faced beauty pouts purrs bats her eyelashes (all the better to emphasize the eye shadow) and gives her terrible role the performance it deserves. Krabbe who’s played his fair share of heavies picks up an easy check for basically showing up. There’s only so much former graffiti artist-turned-filmmaker Olivier Megaton brings to the party -- and it’s not a lot. After the first two films no one’s likely to tamper with the formula and Megaton doesn’t even try. The only surprising thing about the film – and it’s a mild one to be sure – is that it received a PG-13 rating given the incessant violence. Given the abundance of CGI visual effects on display here it’s entirely possible that the bloodier bits were digitally erased. Undoubtedly an unrated “director’s cut” DVD will soon be lurking on video shelves which is where this Thanksgiving turkey belongs.
There’s no reason to expect much of a plotline when it comes to a videogame-turned-movie and in that sense DOA: Dead or Alive truly delivers. The journey begins with three women. First we meet Princess Kasumi (Devon Aoki) who lives in the mountains of Japan. She is told that her brother is gone but is warned that if she leaves to look for him she will become an outcast aka Shinobi. Nonetheless she wards off rows of ninjas and literally jumps off an entire mountain range to escape. Next up is Tina (Jaime Pressly) a female wrestler who’s sick of the superficiality that apparently goes along with her fame. Tina warns her father (Kevin Nash) to stop trying to coerce her back into the game but that’s before a boatful of thugs try to overtake her luxury yacht in the South China Sea. Tina makes quick work of the amateur thieves. Finally there’s girly girl Christie (Holly Valance) a burgling multitasker who can simultaneously throw on a bra and throw down in a fight. What do these three femme fatales have in common? Their skills have earned them an invite to the all-exclusive DOA tournament which crowns the world’s best martial artist. Even a dream-team action trio of say Angelina Jolie (circa the Tomb Raiders) Uma Thurman (circa the Kill Bills) and Ziyi Zhang (circa Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon) couldn’t lend credibility to DOA; playing in this movie is simply a losing battle even if they win the whole damn DOA tournament. At least Pressly Aoki and Valance (and Sarah Carter if you count her as the hostess/competitor amongst the lead chicks) look pretty while looking bad. Pressly it should be said probably wouldn’t have even thought of accepting such a role had she known My Name Is Earl would be such a hit. But here she is kicking butt while looking freakishly toned enough to become a gaming-geek goddess. As for her acting Pressly basically replicates her backwoods Earl sensibilities and makes it work as best she can. Aoki (Sin City) continuing her trend of solid acting in mostly terrible movies actually looks the most “videogame ” while Valance (Pledge This!) makes her sultry fighter hot enough to distract from her ho-hum acting. But it’s Eric Roberts--he of approximately half the movies and TV shows made over the last three decades--who adds the occasional funny-bad vibe as DOA’s eventual bad guy. Nobody else could’ve played his role partly because nobody else would’ve wanted to. Oh videogame movies when will you learn that crossovers never work—especially in your “genre?" As sure as Russell Crowe’s 30 Odd Foot of Grunts will never make a blip on the Billboard charts and wrestlers will never be able to act a videogame will never amount to a good movie. At least DOA unapologetically plays out like a videogame: When a fight ends for example a “K.O.” (knockout) appears on the screen. It is one of the more ludicrous moments ever committed to celluloid but it’s director Corey Yuen’s way of staying faithful to the game version as well as his target audience. Having been a longtime choreographer—on everything from Lethal Weapon 4 to Transporter 2 and some non-sequels in between—Yuen has the chops to create a great fight scene but he is clearly not a director. Positively everything outside of the fight sequences is cringe-inducing for its lameness and insignificance. The fact there is even an attempt to build a story—by no less than four writers mind you—around what is a very literal translation of a pure fighting videogame is gratuitous in itself. Besides an hour and a half of mostly fight scenes would’ve been more appreciated by the bleary-eyed gamer audience anyway.
Danny (Li) has lived his life with his "Uncle" Bart (Bob Hoskins) a fiery gangster who has trained Danny to be an enforcer and do his dirty work for him. In truth Bart has basically treated Danny like an animal--a dog to be exact collar and all--not a person. As soon as Danny's job of savagely beating those who had "wronged" his uncle is complete he goes back to his dark dank quarters. One day upon finding a benevolent blind man Sam (Morgan Freeman) playing a piano Danny discovers that he's more than merely a dog. Sam takes Danny into his home and teaches him about the piano and human relationships with the help of his step-daughter (Kerry Condon). All seems to be going well but the collar wrapped around Danny's neck is a link to his former violent life--and of course Bart. Heading down that path of redemption Danny winds up reluctantly going back to his uncle albeit in a different frame of mind. The tension builds as a massive showdown between Danny and Bart becomes imminent. It is only after his collar is taken off that Danny is unleashed.
It's usually not Jet Li's job to exude acting chops just execute the karate kind. But while the main thrust of Unleashed is the highly choreographed and entertaining fight sequences that show off his unbelievable skills the actor still tries his hand at keeping it real. Thankfully Unleashed is a decided improvement over most of Li's other nonsensical American movies (Cradle 2 the Grave anyone?) and is tailor-made for his broken English and acting range. Freeman on the other hand lends such an air of authenticity and workmanship to Unleashed that one wonders how the they were able to reel in the venerable actor hot off his Oscar-winning performance in Million Dollar Baby. He is simply perfect as the soft-spoken mild-mannered Sam. Then there is Hoskins. The robust British actor has had his fair share of Freeman-like success and has rightfully earned that same class of respect. But lately he seems to be taking any roles he can get no matter the size (see Son of the Mask. On second thought don't). It's clear playing Bart is a no-brainer for him but he tends to go unnecessarily over the top.
Director Louis Leterrier shows a knack for the action suggestive of a veteran filmmaker even though he's only made two movies. His first film 2002's The Transporter was a relative hit and as far as straight action movies and directorial debuts go it was a thing of beauty. The same can more or less be said for Unleashed. Simply put if this movie fails on any front it will not be due to a lack of blood sweat and tears from Leterrier. He captures both the fight sequences and the occasional poignancy with stark eloquence with every little detail in place. And the theatrics of it all--i.e. special effects loud-as-hell sound effects--doesn't hurt either. The Japanese-revenge genre is executed to a tee but he doesn't let it overstep its boundaries and turn the film into a cliché. It's not an easy thing to do and many directors would be unable to solve that conundrum. The only disparity between this project and his last is that he has probably less to work with this time around yet he has much more to lose. It's safe to say he does not crack under the pressure.
October 11, 2002 6:40am EST
Frank Martin (Jason Statham) is a former Special Forces operator who fed up with military bureaucracy retires from the army to lead a quiet life in the south of France or so one would think. Frank actually makes a living hiring himself out as a transporter carrying packages in his spiffy BMW. He manages to keep his nose clean by adhering to three simple rules: never change the terms of the deal never exchange names and never look at what's inside the package. But when Frank notices that one of his packages is moving curiosity and concern get the better of him and he takes a peek. A beautiful woman named Lai (Shu Qi) emerges from the duffel bag in his trunk and it's love at first sight. (We know this because of the overpowering instrumental love theme that goes along with the scene.) Breaking rule No. 3 gets Frank into a whole lot of trouble especially when he discovers the kind of mess Lai is involved in: she is trying to stop a ring of human smugglers led by her father.
Statham (John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars) carries this film with complete ease. There is an intelligence in his work that comes through here in the same manner it did with his character Turkish in Snatch. In Frank Statham creates such an identifiable character--stylish brawny and brainy--that audiences will want to revisit him in a few years just to see what he's been up to. The gorgeous Qi (Millennium Mambo) plays his love interest but her character has a piece of duct tape over her mouth for most of the film. It's not to say she is not a good actress but her lack of lines makes her character--whose loyalties are a bit confusing from the start--seem a little dimwitted. Worth mentioning is French actor Francois Berleand (Alive) who plays the role of Detective Tarconi a cop who knows Statham is up to something but lets him do his thing as long as he keeps it under the radar. The two actors have good chemistry on screen although their relationship could have been explored more. The same can be said of Matt Schulze (Blade II) who plays the main villain--nicknamed "Wall Street." Compelling bad guys are hard to find these days and it would have been interesting to see more done with this character.
Slick action scenes and artfully choreographed fight sequences are director Cory Yuen's specialty: he was martial arts choreographer for Kiss of the Dragon and The One and martial arts supervisor for Romeo Must Die. His extensive background in the genre shows in this film but while the The Transporter is visually exciting and technically well done it loses points for adding some really tacky elements to an otherwise action-packed flick. For someone as professional and calculating as Frank for example to break one of his long-standing rules at the sight of a pretty woman seems out of character. Writers Robert Kamen and Luc Besson have a great hook with the Frank Martin character but they introduce too many cheesy elements. I mean Asian families being shipped in containers and sold into slavery? Call me a cynic but human-interest stories simply don't belong in action movies.
Top Bejing cop Liu Jian (Jet Li) conveniently called "Johnny" for us Americans is called by French police to capture a Chinese druglord hiding out in Paris. Johnny teams with a devious and dishonest French cop Richard (Tcheky Karyo) who double-crosses him leaving him framed for a murder and on the lam. Not only is Richard head of the Parisian police he happens to be the City of Lights' leading pimp and he's forced ex-junkie Jessica (Bridget Fonda) into cheap whoredom by holding her young daughter hostage. Johnny befriends Jessica and together they go after Richard armed with her street smarts and his--acupuncture needle bracelet? No kidding it's Johnny's secret weapon that he uses to put his enemies out of action.
Let's face it Jet Li's way better at kung fu than tongue fu--the poor guy couldn't act his way out of a paper bag. But like his character Johnny Li is just a good guy trying to do the best job he can and you have to give him some credit for trying hard. Besides he's a damn good martial artist. Karyo is way over the top chewing the scenery like it was his last meal--he is impossibly vile killing and maiming just 'cause. But Fonda takes the cake for worst performance as--would you believe--a whiny melodramatic "farmer's daughter from North Dakota" turned out against her will. (Honestly what's her track record lately? Monkeybone? Lake Placid? Somebody call John Travolta--they've found his next leading lady!)
Director Chris Nahon known for making commercials begs borrows and steals from Luc Besson (La Femme Nikita starring none other than Bridget Fonda)--ooh guess what? Besson is KOD's co-writer and producer. Well at least the Nahon-Besson team could have connected the dots before trying to make the audience do it for them. Nothing's explained; even the most obvious questions go unanswered. Why is the bad guy so bad? Where are the cops as a fight rages on and on in the police headquarters? Not to mention these martial arts scenes (why else would you watch this? Certainly not for Li's "acting") lack creative flowing choreography and instead are choppily cut gratuitously vicious and sometimes downright gross (like a guy gets two chopsticks to the throat) acts of violence.
Comte Donatien Alphonse François de Sade (Geoffrey Rush) the legendary
French libertine and writer of dirty stories who lent his name to the term
"sadism " goofs away the last decadent years of his life in an insane
asylum. But the black-market publication of his latest porno masterpiece
upsets the unorthodox arrangements he has with a mischievous chambermaid
(Kate Winslet) and the open-minded priest who administers the facility
(Joaquin Phoenix). Soon a harsh new supervisor (Michael Caine) arrives with
orders to break the unrepentant Marquis.
While he bears little physical resemblance to the historical de Sade -- a
350-pound 64-year-old at the time of his death in 1814 -- Rush ("Shine")
nails the combustible mixture of monster and intellectual rebel that makes
the character such a fascinating counterculture icon. Meanwhile "Titanic"
leading lady Winslet has almost too much sultry star presence for what is
little more than an overglorified henchwoman part. The talented Phoenix
("Gladiator") has much more to work with as a young priest caught in an
increasingly painful moral dilemma.
Philip Kaufman who previously indulged in raunchy literary biography with
1990's "Henry and June " digs into substantial issues about free speech and
the incendiary power of ideas in a piece that plays like "Amadeus" meets
"The People vs. Larry Flynt." Kaufman and screenwriter Doug Wright (adapting
his own stage play) mean to wash all this down with as much lurid teen sex
necrophilia and S&M as they can cram into an art film but there's something
a little too earnestly deliberate about their attempts to be crude and
salacious. Their Marquis is an entertaining enough fellow but he starts to
wear out his welcome as this highbrow tour of hell plods through its
somewhat tedious second hour.