Cast: Harrison Ford, Josh Hartnett, Lena Olin, Keith David, Bruce Greenwood, Martin Landau, Lolita Davidovich, Dwight Yoakam, Isaiah Washington
Director: Ron Shelton
Producers: Ron Shelton, Lou Pitt
Screenplay: Robert Souza & Ron Shelton
Cinematography: Barry Peterson
Music: Alex Wurman
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures
There are times when I wish the action-comedy buddy film had never been invented. For every 48 Hours or Lethal Weapon that gets the ingredients right, it seems that I have to endure dozens of films like Hollywood Homicide – lumbering, overlong bores that fail to grasp the essential elements necessary to make this sort of movie an enjoyable experience. There are some laughs to be had here, but they are islands in a becalmed ocean. So the essential question becomes: Are four or five genuinely funny moments worth an expenditure of nearly two hours of valuable time?
The first, and biggest, problem with Hollywood Homicide is that it is saddled with a cumbersome storyline that features about a half-dozen subplots that suck up more than 50% of the running length. The reason for this isn't hard to guess – the main storyline is so lifeless, formulaic, and uninvolving that the filmmakers were probably hard-pressed to stay with it. Yet, with such a shaky foundation, how firm can all the buttresses and turrets be? Not very, as it turns out. Hollywood Homicide's sluggish lack of momentum and dreary approach lead to boredom before the first half-hour is over. And, since the good jokes don't come until the final third, a lot of yawns will have to be stifled.
Hollywood Homicide introduces us to Detectives Joe Gavilan (Harrison Ford) and K.C. Calden (Josh Hartnett), two partners for whom police work seems less like a career choice and more like something to occupy a few hours each day. K.C. considers his real calling to be acting, and, as soon as an agent or producer takes an interest in him, he plans to quit the force. Joe, on the other hand, is dabbling in real estate, and all he needs is one big commission to set himself up for life. Things at the day job start unraveling when Joe and K.C.'s investigation of a multiple homicide at a dance club leads them to a music mogul named Sartain (Isaiah Washington), who clearly has something to hide. At the same time, an Internal Affairs officer named Macko (Bruce Greenwood) is pursuing a vendetta against Joe, who is dating his ex-girlfriend, Ruby (Lena Olin). And a psychopath apparently connected to both Sartain and Macko is going around shooting people and torching their bodies.
For director Ron Shelton, Hollywood Homicide represents a rare venture out of the sports-related movie field (he has made Bull Durham and Tin Cup, amongst others), and one of his least successful outings behind the camera to-date. Considering all the hats Shelton wears for this movie (director, co-produced, co-writer), one has to credit him with Hollywood Homicide's handful of inspired moments: a surreal internal affairs interview of the protagonists, a car chase where K.C. frightens his unwilling passengers nearly to death, another chase in which Joe is forced to engage in pursuit on a girl's bicycle, and a helicopter traffic jam caused by aerial coverage of that chase. Unfortunately, the blame for the rest of the movie must also be laid at Shelton's feet.
One source of unintentional comedy is seeing 60-year old Harrison Ford engaging in foot chases and various other physical activities. Ford was getting too old for this kind of stuff 15 years ago when he last played Indiana Jones. Today, it's laughable to see him as a character doing this sort of stuff. (And, on more than one occasion, the stunt man's presence is obvious.) There's no rule that someone into his seventh decade of life has to sit back and relax in a rocking chair, but this is ridiculous.
Although Ford does not exactly mail in his performance, this is a lazy job, and far from his best work. On top of that, he has no chemistry with co-star (and heartthrob of the moment) Josh Hartnett, who appears strangely disinterested in everything going on around him. When it comes to cop movies, some pairs work, while others don't. This is clearly a case when casting because of star power doesn't generate a pleasing on-screen result. The film's energy – what little there is – comes from Bruce Greenwood as the vengeful Macko. Greenwood is instantly dislikable, giving us someone to root against. Unfortunately, he's not the main villain, and Isaiah Washington's Sartain comes across as a generic bad-guy with Dwight Yoakim as his equally generic psychopathic cohort.
Hollywood Homicide's two most prominent women – Lena Olin and Lolita Davidovich (as a prostitute/informant) – are criminally underused. In fact, the film could have moved forward smoothly had their scenes been cut. Ditto for the jokey sequences in which Joe tries to sell a famous old-time Hollywood producer's mansion, and the endless cameos (Eric Idle, Smokey Robinson, Gladys Knight, Robert Wagner, etc.). On the other hand, if all of the material that should have been excised had been removed, the running time wouldn't have made it past the skinny 60-minute mark. And what was left would have been run-of-the-mill buddy movie content. Taking everything into consideration, that leaves Hollywood Homicide dead-on-arrival in local theaters. It's a would-be blockbuster with the emphasis on bust.
© 2003 James Berardinelli