Cast: Anthony Hopkins, Chris Rock, Gabriel Macht, Garcelle Beauvais-Nilon, Peter Stormare, John Slattery, Kerry Washington
Director: Joel Schumacher
Producers: Jerry Bruckheimer, Mike Stenson
Screenplay: Jason Richman and Michael Browning
Cinematography: Dariusz Wolski
Music: Trevor Rabin
U.S. Distributor: Touchstone Pictures
A word of advice to filmmakers: don't use the word "bad" in the title - it makes it too easy for film critics.
Bad Company is the second film in two weeks to postulate what might happen if a terrorist cell brought a nuclear weapon into a major American city and attempted to detonate it. However, whereas The Sum of All Fears adopted an edgy approach that resulted in a chilling, compelling motion picture, Bad Company devolves into a mess of cliches and idiocy that not even Jack Ryan could have figured his way out of. This movie deserves to vaporize in a cloud of superheated gas.
Clue #1 that there's trouble afoot: Jerry Bruckheimer. The uber-producer is known for movies whose testosterone quotient is in inverse proportion to the number of brain cells needed to comprehend what's going on. It's highly unlikely that "intelligent" will ever be the first adjective anyone will apply to a Bruckheimer movie. (Visceral, yes. Smart, rarely.) That criticism applies here. Bad Company has one of the most moronic screenplays of the year, full of holes that will be obvious even to those who aren't looking for them. If viewers played a drinking game identifying logical flaws, the participants would be passed out before the halfway point.
What's atypical about Bad Company, at least as far as a Bruckheimer film goes, is its sluggish pace and dearth of high-octane adrenaline scenes. In fact, putting aside a few obligatory chases, Bad Company has virtually no action sequences. It's plot and exposition heavy. This would be okay if the storyline was interesting, but Bad Company is merely an opportunity to recycle worn-out spy movie cliches. The ending, like much of what transpires during the course of this film, is pre-ordained. We know almost from the beginning how things are going to turn out. Unlike The Sum of All Fears, Bad Company is gutless. There won't be any surprises, and we recognize this from the moment the opening credits are over.
A slumming Anthony Hopkins (who, once in a while, for no apparent reason, shows up in this kind of role) plays Gaylord Oakes, a CIA operative who has the unenviable task of turning small-time con artist Jake Hayes (Chris Rock) into a suave, sophisticated agent in nine days. The reason: Jake is the spitting image of his long-lost twin brother, who was killed on a recent mission. And, unless Jake appears with Oakes to purchase a suitcase nuclear bomb, the weapon will be sold to a terrorist, who intends to detonate it in New York City. So, the first half of the movie concentrates on Oakes' efforts to transform Jake into a black James Bond, and the second half follows the duo as they try to avoid armageddon at Grand Central Station.
Clue #2 that the movie is not in good shape: a long-standing soap opera plot device forms the foundation of this movie (the long-lost twin). Clue #3: one of the characters calls the bomb a "nucular device". You'd think that the average CIA agent would be able to pronounce "nuclear" properly. He/she probably can - but the average Hollywood actor playing the average CIA agent doesn't have a prayer. Maybe it's a pet peeve, but I wince every time I hear anyone say "nucular".
Bad Company is intended to be one of those mismatched buddy movies, but it's a failure on every count. Hopkins gives a laid back performance that makes his work in The Remains of the Day seem energetic by comparison. Where's Hannibal when you need him? Meanwhile, Chris Rock seems to believe that this is a comedy. So we get a toned-down version of the usual Rock shtick, which is unfunny and wholly inappropriate for the material. When it comes to recalling great movie duos, no one is going to remember Hopkins and Rock.
The issue of bad taste has to be addressed. A terrorist threat that could wipe out a significant portion of Manhattan? It feels exploitative, like someone disturbing a recently covered grave (even if that wasn't intentional - at least any more than is typical for this kind of movie). Admittedly, the movie was filmed before 9/11/01, but that was eight months ago - plenty of time to do some re-shoots and transplant the movie's climax from New York City to somewhere else (even if just across the Hudson River). Ah, but that would be expensive... Bad Company would be a bad movie without its unfortunate choice of locale for the climax, but the setting serves only to salt the wound and give the impression that Disney is run by a gang of money-grubbing, insensitive boobs.
The director of Bad Company is Joel Schumacher, a recognizable name who can occasionally be counted on to make a good film - usually when he isn't given a large budget. (Tigerland, for example, fits into that category.) Most of the time, however, he gets lazy, and this sort of thing is the result. Schumacher doesn't leave an imprint on the film - it could be the work of any second-rate director (although it lacks the "pumped up" nature of something by Michael Bay or Tony Scott, two frequent Bruckheimer co-conspirators). The filmmaker can add this title to his unimpressive list of listless, witless endeavors (such as the limp tearjerker, Dying Young, and the inept Batman & Robin). This isn't just Bad Company, it's unbearable.
© 2002 James Berardinelli