Street Kings
There will be mud: John Krasinski gets down and dirty in George Clooney's Leatherheads.
Directed by David Ayer
C-
Reviewed by Sean Burns Opens Fri., April 11
He staggers on-screen trying to sell a junky machine gun out of the trunk of his car, sputtering racist banter before blowing away a few gangbangers in cold blood. Minutes later Keanu Reeves explains, "It's okay, I'm a cop."
Yes, we're back in James Ellroy country. The notorious crime novelist's dirty fingerprints are all over David Ayer's slicked-up, egregiously miscast sophomore directorial effort. Angst-ridden alcoholic peace officers surrounded by sleaze and systemic corruption, pining for dead lovers and slouching toward redemption, Street Kings will feel familiar to anyone who's ever stayed up all night tearing through an Ellroy paperback.
It will feel even more familiar to anybody who saw Dark Blue, Ellroy and Ayer's 2002 big-screen collaboration (directed by Ron Shelton), as Street Kings (with a screenplay credited to Ellroy, Kurt Wimmer and Jamie Moss) has almost beat for beat the exact same story.
But whereas the previous picture featured Kurt Russell giving the performance of a lifetime as a crooked bully cop growing a conscience against the backdrop of riot-strewn 1992 L.A., this latest spin offers Keanu Reeves in his place, posing in front of what appear to be outtakes from crummy hip-hop videos.
The other big difference is that Dark Blue was a pretty good movie.
Keanu's a likable fellow--too likable, in fact, to play this trigger-happy point-man for a shady vice squad. Forest Whitaker's seething, sinister commanding officer calls him "the tip of the spear," but he seems a bit dull for such a nickname. It takes Reeves a staggering amount of screen time to figure out that the ridiculously theatrical death of his chatty former partner (Terry Crews) might not have been an accident, and a lot of unsubtle hints from brawny brothers in blue (horribly played by the likes of Jay Mohr and John Corbett) fall on deaf ears.
Ayer penned Training Day and recently helmed the unpleasant Christian Bale-gone-psycho-homeboy dud Harsh Times. He seems fascinated by knuckleheaded machismo in the 'hood, without having anything particularly interesting or relevant to say about it. The material's inherent deja vu isn't helped by his flat staging, claustrophobic compositions and numerous improbable scenes in which everyone stands around explaining the plot, when they should just be shooting at each other.
The usually outspoken Ellroy has taken great pains not to talk about this project with the press. Can't say I blame him.
Not Reviewed
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1. Jana Monji said... on Jun 25, 2008 at 03:57AM
“Duchess is misspelled as Dutchess.”