Armored
Directed by Nimrod Antal. Written by James V. Simpson. With Matt Dillon, Columbus Short, Jean Reno, Laurence Fishburne, Amaury Nolasco, Milo Ventimiglia, aand Skeet Ulrich. (PG-13)
A look at the cast list of Armored should have tipped me off. Though it's chock full of name actors, they're all decidedly B-list, best known for being in the kind of derivative films—or in many cases here, TV shows—that Armored turns out to be. Films that don't bother to try too hard, probably because the people making them know that most of the money they make will be from DVD rentals to half-stoned college kids. To be honest, I'm more than a bit surprised that this one didn't go straight to disc; it's the sort of movie that is often released hot on the heels of a popular hit, with confusingly similar cover art and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it name: The Bourne Identity becomes The Bonn Entity, and you're out four dollars.
At any rate, it stars Matt Dillon as the ringleader of a cozy bunch of armored car guards turned robbers. The idea is that on a certain day of high cash traffic, the band of brothers will hide the loot, claim they were robbed, and live happily ever after. A simple plan (which also happens to be the name of a much better robbery movie), except that it never is.
The first problem is war hero Ty Hackett (Columbus Short), the newest member of the guard team. Guardian of his younger brother Jimmy in the wake of their parents' death, he at first refuses to play any part in the scheme, only to come around when Social Services threatens to take away his brother. The second problem is a couple of inconvenient witnesses, including a cop (Milo Ventimiglia of television's Heroes). The third is the same as the first, when Ty has a change of heart and becomes a liability to the gang.
There's a consistent feeling of missed opportunity here: if you go by the plot alone, Armored had a chance to be another Reservoir Dogs. But at every turn we're let down by shoddy writing and an enthusiastic embrace of the kind of weak symbolism that still wants to make a big deal out of a character who literally has blood on his hands—mostly because of a big dramatic moment earlier, when he says, "I can't have any more blood on my hands!" This is deep stuff.
Perhaps most damning of all: the trailer for Takers, an upcoming heist movie, that played before the feature. Among all the expected scenes of criminal mayhem was one, obviously meant to be the piece de resistance, that eerily mimicked the climax of Armored. The star of Takers? Matt Dillon.
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans
Directed by Werner Herzog. Written by William Finkelstein. With Nicolas Cage, Val Kilmer, Eva Mendes, Jennifer Coolidge, Fairuza Balk, and Xzibit. (R)
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans is the kind of movie that could break a critic's career—for good or for bad. It's outrageous and ridiculous, and bears little resemblance to Abel Ferrara's 1992 Bad Lieutenant (starring Harvey Keitel) except in generalities; in both, cops that were (maybe) once decent get pulled into an ever more powerful vortex of drugs, sex and ego.
It's also pretty fantastic, with two big caveats, or one, if you ignore the stilted performance of Eva Mendes. This is not a cop movie. Go into this expecting a New Orleans-style French Connection and you will be terribly disappointed. Go into this as a fan of filmmaking and as a fan of Herzog, and you'll be rewarded with scenes that are outlandish but poetic—iguanas breaking the fourth wall, dancing corpses—and a performance from Nicolas Cage that he seems to have pulled from nowhere. If you've thought the actor too over the top for many of his roles, seeing him in a film with a like-minded director is a revelation—his forced oddity finally makes sense. Trying to explain it is a losing proposition; let's just say this: if you like Herzog, go.
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Also this week: This column goes to press just before the Christmas holiday; if you're like me, you may still be looking for some last-minute gift ideas for an overlooked cousin or coworker, or even a good friend who unexpectedly showered you with presents. And let's face it, the prepackaged "gifts" you find at most retailers are often more insulting than not giving a gift at all—just who is the target market for that holiday deodorant set, anyway? But I ask: Who among us doesn't like free movies? Think of the unfettered glee in your father's voice when he discovered he was somehow getting free HBO.
Local film lovers—and more importantly, their relatives—can recapture a bit of that joy by availing themselves of the variety of gift options offered by area theaters. For the traditionalist, the gift card is the new coupon book. All the major movie houses offer their own variants on the idea—at Cinemark, you can even make one using your own family photos, in case you'd like to embarrass someone with some bit of their past—but the basic idea is the same almost everywhere: load it up with credit and your happy gift-getter can use it for all the tickets and concessions they can handle. If you're stumped on an idea for someone between the ages of 13 and 17, this will almost certainly be better received than anything else you might come up with. Trust me on this.
Of course, not everyone wants to hit the theater for their movie fix. For the homebodies on your list, stop in at Pleasant Street Video, where longtime video-flinger and Northampton icon Bill Dwight notes that folks can buy gift certificates for "anything and any amount," and that "we rent movies and programs for only a dollar each on Wednesdays and Thursdays and people can keep them for a week." Good deal, good people, good movies—what more do you want?
Being nonprofits, Amherst Cinema and Pleasant Street Theater are also able to offer a few other options, some of which can be written off come tax season (free gifts!). Memberships to the sister theaters (one membership is valid for both) range from $40 all the way up to $500; all levels include "members only" ticket savings—usually around two dollars per ticket—while the higher levels also mean free popcorn and invitations to private events, as well as the privilege of member prices for a companion.
Now we get serious. This last one is the province of doghouse husbands, children of grieving widows, and the flat-out rich. For $1,500 anyone can "create a lasting tribute to your family, friends, or anyone you wish to honor" by having a plaque inscribed with a two-line tribute and attached to a seat in one of Amherst Cinema's three theaters. It may sound like a bit much—the total cost of a single dedication might be less than $10—but after seeing more than a few glinting back at me in the dark over the years, I can say with confidence that money was likely the last thing on the minds of the people who gave these gifts.
One more note: this will be the final Cinema Dope column of 2009. Some noteworthy films either out now or opening this week that likely won't be covered, but remain worth seeing for one reason or another: The Road, Me and Orson Welles, Precious, and the 3D blue alien hype machine known as Avatar. See you in 2010!
Jack Brown can be reached at cinemadope@gmail.com.
