Review - Safe House

Grade: C+

Yin: Another spin on the Denzel+young actor formula. Generally unoriginal and uninspired all-around, from the plot to the performances to the aesthetic. Trust me; you’ve seen this movie a dozen times, just with less blood. Poor Denzel seems exhausted from doing the same movie over and over again.

Yang: Action beats are pretty solid despite bringing nothing particularly new to the table. Decent pacing keeps things moving with only a few signs of sluggishness in the middle. Bloodier than most movies of its ilk—if you enjoy that sort of thing (I do.)

In-Between: How many shanty towns in developing countries must be destroyed so Hollywood can make a buck? Just saying…

It’s been little more than ten years since Training Day was released, so Swedish director Daniel Espinosa must have thought it was high time that classic was remade.

He was wrong.

For what seems like the twelfth time in as many years, Denzel Washington teams with a rising, or falling as the case may be, young white star—this year’s model is the woefully beat-upon Ryan Reynolds—in a middle-of-the-road actioner that is besieged with jump-cut editing and barely comprehensible set pieces.

As another play on the disenchanted mentor/wide-eyed mentee narrative, Safe House tells the tale of legendary CIA operative turned rogue intelligence dealer Tobin Frost (Washington)—like out in the cold? How clever—who is captured by a CIA detail in Cape Town after violently eluding a cadre of scowling, ambiguously Middle Eastern and African assassins. Frost is promptly delivered to a CIA safe house monitored by the mild-mannered Matt Westin (Reynolds), a bored “housekeeper” who is bored out of his skull and constantly bugging his gruff superior (Brendan Gleeson) back in the states for an opportunity to become a case officer. When the CIA unit charged with “encouraging”—with the use of a towel and a gallon of water—Frost to reveal the extent of his treasonous actions is wiped out by the same assassins who thrust Frost into their hands, Westin is forced to keep his “houseguest” secure until an extraction team arrives, which, of course, proves far easier said than done.

Recalling a spate of genre thrillers from the aforementioned Training Day to 16 Blocks to Unstoppable, Safe House treads so much familiar ground and apes so much visual panache from better films that it barely registers as original. The through-line of the plot is fairly threadbare, but the implications that every player involved is more than meets the eye telegraphs the “twist” at the end before the first half-hour is up. The twist at the end is of course directly related to some crowd-pleasing anti-government, anti-CIA rhetoric that has been warmed over so much that one audience member stood up at the end of the screening and announced to all within earshot, “News flash: don’t trust the CIA.” Adding to the stale subtext and flimsy plot is Espinosa’s visual style, which rips off frequent Denzel Washington-collaborator Tony Scott so thoroughly—complete with grainyness, oversaturated palette, and spastic edits—that I had to triple check the credits and IMDb to ensure Scott’s lack of involvement. To those who haven’t seen a Denzel Washington movie in the past five years, this visual style may seem like an energetic revelation. The rest of us know better.

I hear you out there: “So, the plot’s weak and it kind of looks like crap, but Denzel is in it, so at least there’s some solid acting, right?” To which I would respond, “Sadly, no.” Poor Denzel looks tired in this flick. He’s not tired in the dismissive sense that his skill has been compromised, but he appears exhausted, as if he’s finally had enough of this charade. I get it. He wants to challenge himself. He wants to perform theater rather than hoisting up the flavor of the month. I understand completely, and it’s clear that this is his “one for them” movie, which will allow him to make some pocket change then go do whatever he wants for the rest of the year—meaning we should expect another variation on this formula in either January or November of 2013. While Denzel may not be putting his Oscar-winning best on display, his turn as a smirking trickster is saddled with enough weariness and resignation that his performance becomes a intriguing case of art imitating life. Reynolds, on the other hand, is pushed way out of his comfort zone into a role as a sad-eyed, tight-lipped action star that prevents Reynolds from playing the smart-ass joker he’s famous for playing. I suppose this was a bold decision, but it seems unwise to rein in Reynolds and keep him from adding his trademark humor to the flick’s generally dour proceedings, but what do I know. With Reynolds and Washington dominating the screen time with their redo of Washington and Ethan Hawke’s chemistry in Training Day, the rest of the notable cast is saddled with thankless roles as shady CIA spooks who forgot the Cold War ended. Brendan Gleeson does little with his role as Westin’s superior besides grumbling, placing his hands on his hips, and barking orders. Vera Farmiga is also forced to play below her ability as a stateside unit director desperately searching for Frost in a sour variation on Joan Allen’s role from the Bourne Trilogy. Sam Shepard shows up for a few scenes, as well playing a CIA deputy director who obviously believes in the Patriot Act a bit too deeply. Honestly, I would feel bad for all the actors involved if I wasn’t sure this was going to be at least a modest hit.

In fact, I have no doubt that audiences will eat this up. It’s ridiculously violent, generally well-placed, and not the least bit challenging or surprising--why ask for more? I will not deny that there are some solid action beats and some spectacular carnage that occurs between the opening and final frame, but so much of Safe House is nakedly unoriginal and rote that the weaknesses outweigh the occasional high notes. Personally, I think everybody involved—audience included--deserved better—except for Espinosa, and that’s only because I don’t know his work that well. That said, if you’re looking for some fairly muscular if unoriginal action, or you absolutely love Denzel, feel free to check out Safe House, but you would be better off just renting or downloading Training Day, Unstoppable, and Man on Fire.

Review - The Change-Up

Grade: C+

Good: Reynolds and Bateman are solidly funny with Bateman doing a class-A impression of the old snarky Reynolds from the days of Van Wilder. Laughs are fast and furious in the opening and middle acts. Leslie Mann and Alan Arkin are great, as always.

Bad: Plot is predictable and trite, but who needs depth when you’ve got laughs; Falls off the rails and becomes a snore without the comedy to pull it through; Not enough screen time for Arkin and Mann;

Ugly: Baby poop+open mouth. ‘Nuff said.

The studios don’t make comedies that aren’t rated R anymore, do they? Not that there’s a problem with adult-geared raunchfests with a touch of heart, but their popularity is evolving beyond niche and zooming past trend. Now, it seems, these comedies are becoming staples of the studios’ annual release schedules that are just shy of being considered tentpoles, which leads to experimentation—however light it may be. That leads the studios to greenlight something like Ryan Reynolds and Jason Bateman’s latest, The Change-Up.

Do audiences really need a raunchy remake of Freaky Friday centered on a bromance—it’s way past respectable to use that word, I know, but it applies here, honest—instead of a mother-daughter relationship? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop Reynolds, Bateman and Director David Dobkin from giving it a good ol’ college try.

The Change-Up follows in the storied tradition of body switch comedies like the aforementioned Freaky Friday (both the ’76 and the ’03 versions) and other similar attempts—including Big and 17 Again—that met with varying degrees of success. Change-Up centers mostly on Bateman’s overachieving, workaholic lawyer Dave who is failing to balance his work—where he's up for partner—with his wife, Jamie (Leslie Mann), and three kids, which includes two frighteningly accident prone infant twins, at home. Dave’s best friend is struggling actor and professional man-child Mitch (Ryan Reynolds), who is on the verge of a big break. After a night of drinking where the two casually wish they had each other’s lives, they take a leak in a seemingly mystical fountain. The next morning, Dave is Mitch and Mitch is Dave. Hijinks, hilarity and horn-dogging ensue. Mitch must now face responsibility as he tries to live Dave’s hectic life while Dave learns the simple pleasures of being Ryan Reynolds. As the two beleaguered chaps search for the fountain and a way to reverse the curse, they experience the requisite moments of clarity and personal growth. But, the question remains: will they become the men they need to be?

Despite a strong supporting cast that includes a harried and wonderfully vulgar Mann, a stunning and unexpectedly, but not overly, funny Olivia Wilde and a severely underused Alan Arkin as Mitch’s father, Reynolds and Bateman carry this flick like champs. Before the body-switch, both play slightly amped variations on characters they’ve always played: Bateman as the wry straight man and Reynolds as the smug, asinine jerk with a heart of gold. Their performances really kick into gear once they switch with Bateman coming out on top by doing a dead-on impression of Reynolds mania while Reynolds shifts from the jerky smartass Reynolds, circa Van Wilder, to the slightly more earnest leading man he is today. While Bateman delivers the lion’s share of laughs as both the neurotic Dave and the more unhinged Mitch, Reynolds still brings his characteristic motormouth antics and colorful, creative language to bear for some solid gags throughout. Mann and Wilde both do admirable jobs as Dave’s alienated and exhausted wife and Dave’s work crush, respectively. Mann, naturally, shines a little brighter than Wilde, especially with the comedic material, but Wilde does show some comedic skill when teamed with Reynolds that hits some good notes but is a bit hammy in the presence of stronger performers like Mann, Bateman and Arkin. Sadly, Alan Arkin’s just above cameo role as Mitch’s father is so scant that even when it’s punctuated by some of the best lines in the movie that it’s not enough to register the way it should.

Director David Dobkin, of Fred Claus and Wedding Crashers fame, is lucky to have such strong performances to work with because, outside of those performances, The Change-Up is pretty rote. Dobkin does very little to put a notable visual stamp or perspective on the material, preferring to let Dave and Mitch experience some terribly predictable character arcs. Working from a script by The Hangover writers Jon Lucas and Scott Moore—who are interestingly used as selling points in a curious strategy that touts writers instead of stars—Dobkin proves generally efficient in moving the story briskly in the earlier goings, stacking the opening acts with some consistently chortle-worthy gags, but lets the flick drag when it deals with anything resembling character development. Thankfully, Dobkin knows to keep the laughs coming as fast and furious as possible because without them The Change-Up would somehow fall flat on its face and still bore the audience to death. For as much control over the proceedings as Dobkin may have had, it’s a good bet that there was some significant ad-libbing and rewriting on set because the voices of the characters—particularly Dave and Mitch—seem so specific to the actors that it’s hard for anyone familiar with the cast’s other works to deny their influence.

Fans of Reynolds and Bateman will find much to enjoy with The Change-Up as both actors’ trademarks are all over the flick. Of course, there’s potential for some overexposure backlash due to both Reynolds and Bateman having movies that may still be in theaters. But, seeing as how Reynolds’ Green Lantern and Bateman’s Horrible Bosses both met with fairly tepid audiences—and that’s being generous when it comes to Green Lantern—maybe their fans were holding out for the Change-Up. If they were, they’ll be entertained by the rapid-fire, lowbrow humor that dominates the first act and second acts, but be a bit bored by the weak, predictable plot at the movie’s core. Also, for folks looking for raunch to rival The Hangover then The Change-Up will fall short. It’s not good, clean fun, but it’s not the dirtiest comedy ever committed to film either. For the audience who is willing to ignore the Disney-esque tripe that floats in between the solid comedy, The Change-Up is at least worth a matinee, just don’t expect it to be a life changing experience.