Movie Review
by Eric Jeter
| *1/2 (out of 5 stars) STARRING Bruce Willis as JEFF TALLEY Kevin Pollak as WALTER SMITH Jimmy Bennett as TOMMY SMITH Michelle Horn as JENNIFER SMITH Bon Foster as MARS KRUPCHECK Jonathan Tucker as DENNIS KELLY Marshall Allman as KEVIN KELLY Rated R Opens March 11, 2005 Studio: Miramax Directed by: Florent Emilio Siri Back to Movie Review Home |
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‘Hostage’ Takes Stupidity Captive
In preparation for his upcoming role in Sin City, Frank Miller’s highly anticipated comic book adaptation, Bruce Willis seems eager to energize his Die Hard fan base. Just a few short weeks before this potential blockbuster, he shows up in the ingeniously titled film, Hostage. Forget the fact that like most fictionalized hostage movies this one is merely a cut-and-paste rehash of already done-to-death material, here Willis drops a turd of such enormous stupidity the anticipation of his performance in Sin City makes me shudder.
Willis plays the part of Jeff Talley, simply put one of the worst hostage negotiators in all creation. Left a cottony-soft emotional wreck after one of his peacemaking efforts ends in bloodshed, he seeks solitude in the small-town confines of Bristo Camino. But trouble awaits there as well. When a couple of teens, after getting flipped off by a young girl (how’s that for a motive), decide to steal her father’s car, the situation escalates into a hostage crisis, forcing Talley to not only confront his beleaguered past, but a mysterious foe who has also taken interest.
The most edgy and eventful moments of Hostage occur in its first act, but shortly thereafter its I.Q. begins a fast descent toward absolute zero. The dive commences with Willis’ Talley, whose gentle manner and pained expressions (including a sad-faced gallop in slow motion) are supposed to stir in us a sense of sympathy. But with his characters constant bumbling of situations and pencil-thin spine, we are left with nothing more than a six foot wuss with a badge, and no connection even begins to be made.
Everyone and everything in Hostage carries a plastic-coated artificiality. It grabs incessantly from Hollywood’s overused vault of clichéd characters and stereotypes, reusing horrendously foul-mouthed juveniles, bong-smoking teens, a bratty little brother, and best of all, a mysterious interloper draped in a spooky black silhouette. Amazingly original.
But by far, the film’s biggest problems come from a script so rife with stupidity that great essays couldn’t describe all its inconsistencies. We’re expected to stomach the fact that trio of delinquent teens would suddenly become super-psychotic savages, committing brazen acts of murder with barely an afterthought. They even demand a chopper, a hostage movie staple, but to take them where - home to mommy? The cops in the film are on par with those in Police Academy 5, although it is impressive to see a female officer crawling hundreds of yards down a mountain with a couple bullets in her back. Good old-fashioned tape is used to bind one hostage, a girl has an on-again off-again affair with her captor, Talley rolls into one hostage exchange butt naked, and, we get to see the small miracle of a Molotov cocktail so strong it can incinerate a human body in just a few seconds. Simply unbelievable.
I’m sure most of this worked much better in Robert Crais’ novel, the book upon which the movie is based, but as a screenplay it is mangled with improbabilities.
For those of us doomed to watching movies with our brains in the “always on” mode, Hostage is probably a few ticks less interesting than watching two Neanderthals play badminton. With it, Willis certainly hasn’t done either himself or his Sin City teammates any favors. It’s an abominable movie that would have faired far better as a direct to video release - Betamax video that is.
