The Taking of Pelham 123: Proof that style doesn’t equal superficiality

Rating: 3 stars (out of 4)

pelham

Taking a quick break from Dan’s animated movie series to present a film I watched in theaters last summer and again recently.  I’m sure Dan will have you back to your regularly-scheduled programming shortly.

On first glance, The Taking of Pelham 123 could be yet another insipid Denzel Washington movie; certainly it inspires comparisons to Inside Man, where he likewise played a hostage negotiator.  But Pelham gets a lot more right than Inside, or Denzel’s previous collaboration with director Tony Scott (Man on Fire), or, for that matter, many of Denzel’s recent popcorn-y flicks.  It generates much sharper tension and feels much more mature and weighty, and, propelled by its two lead actors, it captivates one’s attention for its entire running time.

A remake of a respected 1974 thriller, Pelham stars John Travolta as one bad dude—Ryder, a Fu Manchu- and neck tattoo-sporting guy who, along with a few associates, takes control of a New York Subway car underground and parks it in the tunnel between two stops.  After disconnecting all but one car and 18 hostages, he makes contact with the train’s control center, where self-proclaimed “civil servant” Walter Garber (Washington) happens to get the call.  So begins the chess match, with Ryder demanding $10 million from the mayor before he starts killing hostages.  A NYPD hostage negotiator expert (John Turturro) is eventually brought in, but we know that Ryder will want to talk only to Garber.

It’s an inherently interesting if somewhat recycled plot line, but this film doesn’t rest on its laurels.  Writer Brian Helgeland, who penned Man on Fire (not to mention, ahem, Mystic River), helps Scott and the actors generate moments of genuine suspense and tension.  For much of the film’s midsection, with Ryder on the subway car and Garber on the phone trying to talk his way through everything, I felt myself consistently on edge.  A sequence with money in transit to the subway as the clock ticks is crisply executed.  What’s more, the fact that Ryder proves willing to actually kill if people don’t obey him adds to the level of suspense—one might expect, coming in, that he won’t win, in the end, but seeing an early shooting tells us that we can’t always predict what will come next.

A sequence culminating in Garber revealing the details of a bribe he recently took pulses with energy.  Ryder, who has access to the Internet and can do background searches, intuits that a man of Garber’s stature would not be operating a layman’s job unless he had slipped up somewhere along the line.  He’s also intrigued at the thought of his seemingly decent counterpart paralleling himself in one way: trying to make a dishonest buck.  Thus, with a crowd gathering around Garber’s speaker as the situation escalates, Ryder grabs a teenage hostage and vows to kill him unless Garber spills the details of his scam.  The cuts between the kid, the gunman, and the gradually sadder Garber are exhilarating, and Washington’s few tears at the end strike the perfect note. 

The moment also illustrates another interesting point about the movie—nobody comes out unscathed.  Aside from Garber’s indiscretion, the mayor (James Gandolfini) has recently faced a scandal (of the sexual variety, we infer) and really just wants his time to expire so he can retire to an island somewhere.  These touches—particularly as Ryder makes comments about the dirtiness and sleaze of the city—help elevate Pelham above most thrillers. 

On a somewhat related note, it was also nice to see that Washington’s character was no great hero.  He’s almost passive, a reluctant participant, clearly embarrassed about his previous misdeed; and he delivers no grand, Denzel Washington-style pronouncements or shouting matches with his adversary.  It’s immensely enjoyable to see Washington pull off this kind of role as skillfully as he does, in the aforementioned confessional scene and throughout the rest of the movie; what’s more, and critical for the movie, is that his character, and his acting, compliments Ryder and Travolta well.  Travolta eats up the role, over-the-top in a calculated and intentional way, but he never falls into caricature.  He looks legitimately scary, and he acts that way too, always with a sense of rage (largely stemming from a previous conviction) and carelessness—and intelligence—that elevate him from most cinematic villains.  And the supporting cast further enhances the film—John Turturro and James Gandolfini illustrate the value to be had in casting legitimate actors in ‘entertainment’ movies.

Pelham probably would have benefited from a little more background information on the hostages.  The hijacking occurs after no set-up whatsoever, which is a little bit of a nod to the modern ADD generation and isn’t necessary in a movie that’s hardly too long.  And Ryder’s ultimate comeuppance isn’t the most inspired climax of all-time.  Scott, for his part, can’t resist some of his patented visual flourishes that are probably unnecessary (such as the presentation of the opening credits), but, thankfully, he tones it down for the majority of the movie, perhaps being constrained by the stationary nature of the train car.

To that end, Pelham isn’t really an action movie.  The few shots we see of cars crashing are tangential to the main story, which primarily features talking between its two leads.  It’s a psychological battle between someone not really cut out for this, someone with other problems on his mind, forced to constantly listen to instructions from his superiors as he improvises with his counterpart, who’s clearly enjoying the ride a lot more.

The Book of Eli: Denzel’s script selection continues to improve…

The Book of Eli

In honor of last Sunday’s Oscars, here’s a movie that should be honored at next year’s ceremony (but, given that Sandra Bullock just won Best Actress for Blind Side, clearly won’t be).

Rating: 3 and a half stars (out of 4)

I had no designs of liking The Book of Eli—none.  Due to an uninspiring trailer and tepid reviews, the only thing compelling me to a viewing was the presence of Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman plus some winter-inspired malaise.  I walked out as stunned as I’d been by a movie in years; it’s not my favorite film since the summer of 2007, but not since the third Bourne have I wanted to do nothing but sit in contemplation of a film so much afterwards.

Directed by the Hughes brothers, with whom I was unfamiliar, Eli is set in a post-apocalyptic world decades after a ‘flash’ wiped out civilized societies and many defining pieces of culture.  Eli (Washington) stalks around forests hunting feral cats for food, feeding pieces to rats, perhaps because they’re the only companionship he has.  The visually stimulating world realized by the Hughes brothers paints life in desert-like grays and dark greens, with remnants of the apocalypse still manifest in unmoved wrecked cars and bodies hanging from a noose in closets.  There are some aspects of graphic novels (especially with the visuals and Eli’s extreme fighting skills) and western themes, but The Book of Eli proceeds in a rather straightforward manner.

Eli steadfastly pursues an undefined course—heading West—and eventually comes upon an abridged version of a town lorded over by Oldman’s Carnegie.  Carnegie’s pursuit of the last remaining copy of the Bible stems from a hope to use it as a persuasive force to expand his reign and justify his dominance.  When he finds out that Eli is carrying said book with him, he tries to lure him over to his side, but Eli wants nothing other than to keep heading West.  He seems to have a strange sort of protection over him, but that doesn’t prevent Carnegie from chasing after him when he calmly escapes the town.

This well-paced film plays out more cogently and philosophically than I ever imagined it would.  Washington and Oldman are both as good as ever, but the film has so many other things going for it that it leaves them behind—they’re almost ancillary.  I noticed numerous parallels to 2006’s Children of Men, notably with a lead protagonist fighting to secure the human race’s last hope amid apocalyptic anarchy and chaos.  And Eli finds nearly as much warmth and humanity as did Alfonso Cuaron’s masterpiece.

The movie may seem overtly religious, but it emphasizes the distinction between people like Eli and those who want to use religion without really knowing what it means or just to convince people that what they’re doing is right.  Carnegie’s feverish pursuit of what he unashamedly calls a weapon should give the film an immediate resonance for viewers.  And, while the power of religious texts is promoted, note that the Bible is placed as just one book amidst others, and amidst other works of art and culture, at Eli’s final destination. 

The real religious undertones come not so much via the promotion of one particular faith, but rather the underlying themes: blessed are the poor and meek and injured (as we ultimately come to learn of Eli); do more to others than you do for yourself; and never be blinded so much by ideals that you can’t see the commonsense right thing to do.  The most important of these concepts, though, shows that death is preferable to a life of misery and immorality.  Rebuilding societies isn’t always a good thing, Eli tells us, as it’s not hard to see that we’d rather have not survived the apocalypse than to live in Carnegie’s town. 

These ideas are put forth via intense violence and conversational quiet, with a series of perfectly executed scenes that show us details of the world: the way people look for ‘shakes’ in someone’s hands to reveal cannibalism; the association that forms between street beggars/prostitutes and gangs; and the methods of survival practiced by an old couple living without a neighboring house for miles.  The shootout that takes place there is fantastically filmed, in sharp contrast to the chaotic presentation of most such scenes; the Hughes brothers provide an incredibly long take, going at least two minutes without a cut (another Children of Men similarity), during which the camera zooms from the attackers into an open window like a missile and curves around to show the devastation inside.

Reluctantly, Eli acquires a travelling companion in the form of Solara (Mila Kunis, better than most actresses in such roles, which is to say inoffensive), the prettiest girl in Carnegie’s town.  Eager to get away from Carnegie’s oppressive rule of her and her blind mother (Jennifer Beals), she weasels her way into Eli’s care.  Her escape from a car of Carnegie’s men is a little hard to fathom, I’ll grant, and the script seems to introduce an annoying plot hole by saying that  Carnegie’s car lacks gas.  Solara’s seems capable of driving for hours, but this could have been easily avoided by Carnegie preferring to just go back to open the book, so it doesn’t really harm anything.

All told, I love a film that doesn’t bother to explain everything right off the bat as though you’re a little child.  I love one that proclaims the power of books (and you’d think more would, considering how films and literature share almost all the same properties).  And the twist both floored me and validated a suspicion I had from about the five-minute mark on—it’s guessable, but not obvious, and it makes everything that came before seem more interesting, not less.  Just one of the many accomplishments in this strongly underrated film.