Thriller-less: Pelham 1 2 3 has too much talking, not enough action
By admin on Jun 24, 2009 | In Film Reviews | Send feedback »
by: Anghus Houvouras
The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3
starring John Travolta and Denzel Washington
2 1/2 stars (out of 5)
I love John Travolta. Yes, I realize even as I type this how odd that sounds. Who loves John Travolta? Middle-aged housewives who still remember him in tight pants from Grease and Saturday Night Fever? I don’t love Travolta that way. I love Travolta in a Quentin-Tarantino way, appreciative of his iconic status and screen presence but well aware of his penchant for scenery chewing. Truly, there is nothing better than a bad John-Travolta movie. The problem with the remake of the subway thriller The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 is that it’s not a bad movie.
Let me qualify that statement: If movies were sandwiches, John Travolta would be a block of aged Swiss. A giant hunk of cheese filled with visible holes but tasty nonetheless. Travolta is a scene stealer. When the reins are off, he is electric—the perfect example of screen presence. There is always energy and life, but it is often unfocused, unpredictable and extremely entertaining.
The director is Travolta’s sworn enemy. Any attempt to harness the raw energy that is Travolta usually ends up neutering his performance. Travolta’s best work is done when filmmakers realize that all they can do is roll the camera and let the man get freaky. That’s why movies like Broken Arrow and Face Off are so compelling. One might argue the merit of a film like Face Off, but said person can’t argue that an unchecked Travolta is fascinating to watch.
In Pelham, Travolta plays Ryder, a criminal “mastermind” who has taken a subway train hostage. In an hour he will begin to kill hostages. It’s a simple set-up with a salient time line: hostages start to die in an hour. This sends New York City into a state of chaos. The police scramble for answers. A lame-duck mayor (James Gandolfini) tries to find the appropriate way to handle the crisis, and a disgraced dispatcher (Denzel Washington) is the unlikely man who is forced to be the contact point between the terrorists and the NYPD.
Washington plays the slightly reluctant Everyman, just as he does in almost all of his films. It’s not good, nor is it bad, but it’s extremely predictable. By the film’s third act, he crosses into implausible territory, and the movie grinds to a scraping halt.
Travolta is the real presence here. He gets to mug for the camera, screaming at the top of his lungs and looking like the bouncer for a leather bondage club, replete with a porn-star ‘stache that would make Ron Jeremy wince. But this is why I paid nine bucks to see a movie like Pelham: for all of its over-the-top elements. If I want to watch Denzel Washington play a morally conflicted, reluctant hero, I could rent every other movie in which he’s appeared. I was there to see John Travolta in overdrive—and he’s good but not great.
Director Tony Scott spends too much time trying legitimize the threat of the terrorist early on in the film. Eventually the plan goes to hell, everything unravels, and we realize we spent the last hour being afraid of complete morons. Ryder’s band of goons could very well be the dumbest caper villains ever. I’m not sure whether it was a realistic portrayal of the criminal mind or merely lazy writing. Either way, by the time the movie ended, I realized that this entire criminal enterprise was defeated by having the laziest escape plan ever. How good of a criminal enterprise can it be if one’s defeated by a subway dispatcher?
Travolta is the only thing keeping Pelham from descending into boredom.If I’m being intellectually honest, I would call Travolta’s performance “laughable.” But intellect and Travolta films go together like peanut butter and caviar. His performance is wonderfully ridiculous. He postures, he poses, and he creates a fantastic new drinking game. If we were to take a shot of fine Kentucky bourbon every time his character punctuates a sentence with “mother fucker!”, we’d be drunk in eight minutes flat. Even with his ginormous presence, there is still no level of threat with Travolta as the villain. While incredibly entertaining, he’s about as frightening as a plate of cold linguine.
The film’s fatal flaw is a lack of tension. Anyone remember the movie about the bus that had to maintain a certain speed? And if it dropped below that speed it would explode? I think it was called The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down. The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 is the opposite; the only real action comes from a police chase through New York City with the ransom money in tow—and it’s over in about six minutes. Sure, it has some damn fine cinematography, but even with the movie’s size and scope, none of the events feel significant. Some less respectable action thrillers have done a fine job of raising the stakes. Pelham has no stakes to raise.
The film could easily be titled A Not-So-Pleasant Conversation between Denzel Washington and John Travolta. There are no entertaining side stories, and no hero to be bloodied and beaten to the brink of death before exacting swift justice. There’s just talking—everyone talking: terrorist to the police, police to the mayor and so on. I think whoever labeled this film a “thriller” should look up the definition of the word. It’s a thrill-less thriller. Picture Michael Jackson and no dancing zombies. Would that entertain anyone?
* * *
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