Okay, that tears it. After a wonderful start to the summer (The Matrix), with some fits (Wild Wild West), and starts (South Park...), scattered throughout, I was ready to declare the Summer 1999 movie season halfway decent. Until Chill Factor came along, that is.
THE STORY (WARNING: **spoilers contained below**)
After chemical warfare scientist Richard Long (Paymer) melts down most of an island and the Army Guys on it, using some Nasty, heat-sensitive Blue Stuff (that's how you know it's Nasty), Army Major Andrew Brynner (Firth) inexplicably is sent to prison for 10 years for the deed, and comes out a wee bit perturbed about it. Long, naturally, gets in the way of Brynner's gun - but not before he scoops up said Blue Stuff and delivers it onto his friend and Short-Order-Cook Mason (Ulrich) and Ice Cream Man Arlo (Gooding), who...ah, hell; if you've seen True Lies, Speed, or Broken Arrow, you know the rest.
THE UPSHOT
There's not a whole lot to say about this movie that hasn't been said about most other Action Flicks; and therein lies the problem. CF is Just Another Action Flick; and a bad one, to boot. I won't waste your time in going into detail about all the absolutely ludicrous "plot developments" (loosely used here, folks), the laughingly-played Fil-o-sof-i-cal Fly Fisherman, complete with Mood Music (wherethell did that come from?), who takes an equally-laughable longass time giving Mason and Arlo his Death Speech (I went to the bathroom, came back, and he was still Dying! "But there's no time!", my butt.), the painted-by-the-numbers Bad Guy (where's Christopher Walken when you need him?), the ridiculous ease with which one can break into a Secure Military Establishment, the apparent "oh boy, we're rated 'R', so we can have Cuba cuss up a storm for no good reason, yay!" mindset of the movie's Powers That Be, and the spiffy pseudo-science they try to foist on the audience ("seal up the tunnel!" to contain a Blue Stuff blast? Yah. Hookay). The implausibility of it all just wrecked havoc with my ability to keep from shouting "BOOOLSHEEEIT!!!" at the screen (not that it would've mattered much. There were all of three people at the matinee showing today, including myself. And the theater usher.) Come on, now; I can suspend my Disbelief, but don't ask me to keep it hanging so high above the ground without a safety net, y'know?
If you've seen the commercials for it, you've pretty much seen the best parts of the movie. What, you weren't impressed with the commercials, either? My point exactly. This flick mimics all the other Action Flicks that came before it, but it lacks both the action, and the humor, that makes some of even the lesser of these types of flicks, work. And perhaps "mimics" isn't the right term; maybe "mimes" will fit better, here. And you know what we do with mimes, don't you? [cue evil laugh; fade to black.]
THE "BLACK FACTOR" [ObDisclaimer: We Are Not A Monolith]
Cuba, Cuba, Cuba. What we gon' do with ya, son? Where oh where did the wannabe-Denzel clone - so prominent in Boyz In The Hood - go? And whythell did it leave behind this yelling, no-dozens-playing, Robin-Williams-without-the-humor, can't-act-his-way-out-of-a-paper-bag, shell of an actor? Mr. Gooding, stop re-playing your Oscar acceptance speech over and over in your head (and on the screen), and get back to honing your craft, please. I have every confidence that you have it in you; you did in last year's What Dreams May Come (which, evidently, I am the Only Person Alive to admit that I liked), you can do it again, if only you stop trying so damn hard. One good thing happened though, or to be precise, didn't happen: you weren't turned into the Sidekick. The Clown, yeah, but...oh well.
BAMMER'S BOTTOM LINE
As I've said here before, I have a rep for being very hard on movies. Be that as it may, I have no time to go to a theater and have my intelligence insulted (not to mention having my wallet lifted) by flicks that don't do me the honour of at least stating, well in advanced, that they will be just plain DUMB. But let's look on the bright side: between this stinker and the equally malodorous Wild Wild West, maybe Albert Brooks' sentiment, as expressed in The Muse, will come to pass: "They don't want to do Action Flicks anymore".
CHILL FACTOR:
back to top
