Cast: Claire Danes, Omar Epps, Giovanni Ribisi, Dennis Farina, Josh Brolin, Steve Harris, Michael Lerner
Director: Scott Silver
Producers: David Ladd, Tony Ludwig, Ben Myron, Alan Riche
Screenplay: Stephen T. Kay & Scott Silver and Kate Lanier
Cinematography: Ellen Kuras
Music: B.C. Smith
U.S. Distributor: MGM
Even the name sounds outdated. So it goes for The Mod Squad, the latest old-time TV show to receive an upgrade and end up on the big screen. However, despite being re-tooled for the cynical '90s, the movie seems hopelessly mired in the '70s, and, as a result, is more than 20 years out of synch. Take the plot, for example: this tired, corruption-within-the-police-force story was once a staple of cop shows and movies, and it has long since become a cliché. That doesn't stop The Mod Squad from appropriating it and running with it.
Why The Mod Squad? Presumably for name recognition, but it's a bad title for an underachieving film. However, since few movie-goers under the age of 30 are likely to know the meaning of the word "mod" (the definition is helpfully provided at the beginning of the film), that defeats the purpose. Maybe the producers should have tried The Phat Squad, even though it doesn't rhyme. At least then the target audience would have some clue, which is more than can be said for the actors. Claire Danes and Omar Epps, both competent performers, never inhabit their characters convincingly, and Giovanni Ribisi is a walking example of failed comic relief. I can't help thinking that The Mod Squad would have been much more enjoyable done as a lampoon with original cast members Michael Cole, Peggy Lipton, and Clarence Williams III trying to look hip and blend in. At their best, Danes, Epps, and Ribisi seem like imposters. At their worst, they seem entirely lost.
The fact that the storyline is so shopworn doesn't prevent it from being borderline incoherent. Part of the problem is that the movie is edited like an MTV video. We're constantly jumping from scene to scene, and the minimal expository dialogue is often drowned out by the thumping beat of a relentless soundtrack that doesn't know when to quiet down. This is one movie that won't be nominated for "Sound" or "Sound Effects Editing" at the 2000 Oscars. In a bizarre way, it helps that the plot is so familiar; otherwise, viewers would probably be completely lost. This way, it's easy to connect the dots and figure out where everything is going. If you can't guess all the villains within the first 15 minutes, this must be your first exposure to a movie about crooked cops.
Julie Barnes (Danes), Linc Hayes (Epps), and Pete Cochran (Ribisi) are teen delinquents on their way to jail when police Captain Adam Greer (Dennis Farina) offers them a deal: join the force as "unofficial" undercover cops (no guns or badges) and he'll keep them out of prison. Their first obstacle, however, isn't the work; it's the other officers, who are resentful of three punks moving in on their territory. Then, when Greer turns up dead in an alley with stolen drugs in his possession, his squad suspects a setup. It doesn't take long for them to determine that about half of the police department is involved, and they're about to take the fall for a shopping list of illegal activities.
Even the most optimistic viewer will recognize that there's not much upside to this storyline. Director Scott Silver (Johns) tries, with little success, to liven things up with a restless camera, a brooding atmosphere (lots of shadows, grays, and neons), and the mind-numbing music. There are also a number of sly, satirical lines that poke fun at the cop film genre without going far enough. Despite the obvious parody potential, the film makers were determined to restrict things primarily to a straight action/thriller. For fans of the TV series hoping for a little dose of nostalgia, there is something of the "feel" of the show, but absence of the original trio dampens its effectiveness. For everyone else, this is the kind of movie that isn't even worth renting when it comes out on video because, with the possible exception of Michael Lerner and Omar Epps dancing to show tunes, you've seen it all before.
© 1999 James Berardinelli