John Godey’s 1973 novel The Taking of Pelham One Two Three boasts a suspense situation so surefire that even the directorial bad habits of Tony Scott can’t ruin this latest movie version. Four armed men seize a New York City subway train, isolate one car, and threaten to start killing passengers if a ransom isn’t paid within the hour. The ransom was a million dollars in the book and also in Joseph Sargent’s solid 1974 movie, in which Robert Shaw played the mercenary leading the hostage takers and Walter Matthau was the growling transit cop trying to outsmart him. In 2009, the title has gone digital–The Taking of Pelham 123–and inflation has jumped the asking price to $10 million. Where Shaw’s menace was steely, John Travolta opts for manic, and shamelessly has a blast in the master villain role. His adversary, cagily underplayed by Denzel Washington, has been upgraded in civil-service rank but also demoted on suspicion of taking a bribe. This colors the dynamics of the dialogue between Washington at his control-center console and Travolta on the motorman’s microphone aboard the stalled train.
So far, so reasonably good. But the director’s trademark tactics keep getting between, well, everything. From the get-go, the visuals are subjected to pointless and irritating stutter effects, speeding-up/slowing-down, gratuitous camera movement, and the interposition of dirt- or light-smeared panes of glass between the camera and people we’d appreciate a clear look at. The 1974 movie settled for one police car being wrecked as the ransom is rushed uptown; Scott requires multiple collisions, each the occasion for police cruisers taking Lethal Weapon-style flight. The hostages in the earlier film were wittily individuated, a multicultural group portrait of the city at that mid-’70s moment; the ones on Scott’s train–and also Travolta’s fellow perpetrators, including that wonderful character actor Luis Guzmán–barely register. On the upside, John Turturro and James Gandolfini shine as two guys who (like the actors themselves) are very good at their jobs—respectively playing a hostage negotiator and His Honor, the mayor. The screenplay by Brian Helgeland (L.A. Confidential, Mystic River) strives intelligently, if formulaically, to add new dimensions to the main characters and to offer its own gloss on the current economic meltdown. –Richard T. Jameson
Inspired by real events, the fascinating The Great Debaters reveals one of the seeds of the Civil Rights Movement in its story of Melvin B. Tolson (Denzel Washington in a captivating performance) and his champion 1935 debate club from the all-African-American Wiley College in Texas. Tolson, a Wiley professor, labor organizer, modernist poet, and much else, runs a rigorous debate program at the school, selecting four students as his team in ’35, among them the future founder of the Congress of Racial Equality, James Farmer Jr. (Denzel Whitaker). Washington, who directed The Great Debaters from a script by Robert Eisele (The Dale Earnhardt Story), anchors the story with the team’s measurable progress, but the film is also about the state of race relations in America at the height of the Great Depression. With lynchings of black men and women a common form of entertainment and black subjugation for many rural whites, the idea of talented and highly intelligent African-American young people learning to think on their feet during debates would seem almost a hopeless endeavor. But that’s not the way Tolson sees it, as his students serve themselves and the cause of racial equality in America with energetic arguments in favor of progressive government and non-violence as a viable social movement. There are some startling moments in this movie, particularly the sight of a man found lynched and burned to death, and an extraordinary moment in which we see black sharecroppers and white farmers engaged with Tolson in arguments about unionizing together. Forest Whitaker is outstanding as Farmer’s emotionally-reserved father, also a Wiley professor. This is the kind of film where one hopes two great actors such as the elder Whitaker and Washington will have a scene together, and when it comes it’s as powerful as one might hope. –Tom Keogh
Ridley Scott puts on his “sweeping saga” gameface again, this time not for the sci-fi vistas of Blade Runner or the ancient world of Gladiator but for an urban epic. American Gangster gives the story of Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington), a real-life Harlem crime lord who built an empire on Southeast Asian heroin in the 1970s. Running parallel to Lucas’s somewhat standard story is the investigation led by a persistent New Jersey cop, Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe). Roberts is a more interesting character than Lucas–too honest for his own good, unlucky in his personal life–and this kind of character, easily patronized by others, fits Crowe like a polyester shirt. Scott’s tendency to hit his points square on the noggin is much in evidence here, including the typecasting of the supporting roles and the predictable Serpico atmosphere of the whole thing. (And speaking of supporting actors, the film needs more Chiwetel Ejiofor, whose role as a Lucas sidekick feels cut down.) It succeeds as a kind of chewy entertainment, fueled by the presence of two big stars working their muscles. Both Washington and Crowe look pretty brawny here. –Robert Horton
In his most effective thriller since Enemy of the State, Tony Scott makes time travel seem plausible. It helps that his New Orleans hero, ATF agent Doug Carlin (Denzel Washington in his third go-round with the director), spends more time in the present than the past. In order to catch a terrorist, FBI Agent Pryzwarra (Val Kilmer) invites Carlin to join forces. They have the technology to see the past. He has the expertise to interpret the data. Unfortunately, the bomb has already gone off and hundreds of ferry passengers have died. Then there’s the body of a beautiful woman, Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton, Idlewild), that turns up in the vicinity of the blast. Evidence indicates she was killed beforehand. Since the FBI enables him to observe Claire prior to her murder, Carlin gets to know what she was like and finds himself falling in love. He becomes convinced that the only way to solve the case–and prove her innocence–is to travel to the past. But as Pryzwarra’s colleague, Denny (Adam Goldberg), argues, “You cannot go back in time. It’s physically impossible.” Or so he says. Déjà Vu is constructed around a clever script and executed by a top-notch cast, notably Washington, Patton, and an eerie Jim Caviezel (miles away from Passion of the Christ). In shedding the excesses of recent years–the sadism of Man on Fire and weirdness of Tarantino favorite Domino–Scott re-affirms his rep as one of the action movie’s finest practitioners. –Kathleen C. Fennessy
Spike Lee scored his biggest hit to date with Inside Man, an unconventional thriller with fascinating details in the margins of its convoluted plot. The screenplay (by first-timer Russell Gerwitz) could’ve used a few more rewrites; it moves at a brisk pace but in hindsight a lot of it doesn’t make sense. That makes Inside Man more fun to watch than to think about afterwards (when you discover plot holes big enough to drive a truck through), but it’s curiously involving, especially as NYPD Detective Keith Frazier (Denzel Washington) struggles to outsmart a high-stakes bank robber (Clive Owen) who, along with a well-trained crew of accomplices, has seized control of a Wall Street bank, turning what initially looks like a hostage crisis into a personal crusade to expose some mysterious evil secrets. As you might expect from the director of Do the Right Thing, Lee seizes several satisfying opportunities to examine post-9/11 issues of racial prejudice and domestic terrorism, and the mysterious “problem solver” Madeline White (Jodie Foster), as eerily sinister as she is vaguely defined, is worthy of her own movie. With the benefit of his most stellar cast to date (including Christopher Plummer, Willem Dafoe and Chiwetel Ejiofor), Lee seems more interested in character details than well-crafted suspense, but that doesn’t stop Inside Man from being engrossing, subtly amusing, and quirky enough to qualify as a welcomed break from the formulaic thrillers that are Hollywood’s bread and butter.–Jeff Shannon
The Manchurian Candidate, a classic of paranoid cinema from the 1960s, gets a cunning update, rife with hot-topic references to corporate war profiteering and electronic voting machines. Major Ben Marco (Denzel Washington, Training Day) has been haunted by nightmares ever since a firefight during the first Gulf War–a battle in which he believes he was saved by the heroism of Sgt. Raymond Shaw (Liev Schreiber, Kate & Leopold). But Marco’s nightmares suggest otherwise and drive him to investigate what happened, which may threaten Shaw’s candidacy for vice-president. Meryl Streep plays Shaw’s mother, a senior senator who manipulates everyone around her with an iron will and a sharp tongue. The Manchurian Candidate loses steam towards the end, but up until then director Jonathan Demme keeps the movie rolling fluidly, crafting some creepy paranoia of his own while Streep tears into everything in her path. –Bret Fetzer
Style trumps substance in Man on Fire, a slick, brooding reunion of Crimson Tide star Denzel Washington and director Tony Scott. The ominous, crime-ridden setting is Mexico City, where a dour, alcoholic warrior with a mysterious Black Ops past (Washington) seeks redemption as the devoted bodyguard of a lovable 9-year-old girl (the precociously gifted Dakota Fanning), then responds with predictable fury when she is kidnapped. Prolific screenwriter Brian Helgeland (Mystic River, L.A. Confidential) sets a solid emotional foundation for Washington’s tormented character, and Scott’s stylistic excess compensates for a distended plot that’s both repellently violent and viscerally absorbing. Among Scott’s more distracting techniques is the use of free-roaming, comic-bookish subtitles… even when they’re unnecessary! Adapted from a novel by A.J. Quinnell and previously filmed as a 1987 vehicle for Scott Glenn, Man on Fire is roughly on par with Scott’s similar 1990 film Revenge, efficiently satisfying Washington’s incendiary bloodlust under a heavy blanket of humid, doom-laden atmosphere. –Jeff Shannon
Partly inspired by 1948’s The Big Clock and its nominal 1987 remake No Way Out, the Denzel Washington thriller Out of Time is quite enjoyable if you ignore its implausible plotting. Like those earlier films, this reunion of Washington and his Devil in a Blue Dress director Carl Franklin is about a man–in this case the police chief (Washington) of sleepy Banyan Key, Florida–who falls into a trap set by others, sinks into legal quicksand of his own making, and must race the clock to extricate himself from a series of incriminating setbacks. The Florida setting adds welcome character to the potboiler plot, and Washington’s screen-cred makes it easy to overlook the absurdities of rookie writer David Collard’s screenplay. Eva Mendes is sharp and sensible as Washington’s estranged wife (do you think they’ll reconcile for a happy ending?), and the talented John Billingsley–whose portrayal of “Dr. Phlox” on TV’s Enterprise is vastly underrated–is a constant delight as Washington’s medical examiner, beer buddy and wily co-conspirator. It’s hardly a classic, but Out of Time goes well with a big tub of popcorn. –Jeff Shannon
Autobiographical movies rarely get more truthfully moving than Antwone Fisher. The title is also the name of this fine drama’s first-time screenwriter, a former Navy seaman who was working as a film-studio security guard when his life-inspired script was developed as Denzel Washington’s directorial debut. This Hollywood dream gets better: unbeknownst to the filmmakers, Derek Luke–a newcomer who won the title role over a throng of famous contenders–was also a friend of Fisher’s, and the whole film seems blessed by this fortunate coincidence. Washington’s sharp instincts as an actor serve him well, as both a subtle-handed director and Luke’s costar playing Jerome Davenport, a Navy psychologist assigned to assess Fisher’s chronic violent temper. Their therapy sessions prove mutually beneficial, as this touching true story addresses painful memories, broken desires, and heartfelt reunions without resorting to a contrived happy ending. Fisher’s good life is worth celebrating, and Washington brings a delicate touch to the party. –Jeff Shannon
It’s impossible to walk away from John Q. without thinking about the film that could have been. The pathetic state of health care in the U.S. and the desperate behavior it engenders is not only worthy but edgy material; no doubt director Nick Cassavetes (She’s So Lovely) and Denzel Washington (as well as Robert Duvall, Ray Liotta, James Woods, and Anne Heche) were drawn to the provocative pitch. The only snag is that John Q. has about as much edge as an after-school special. Washington plays John Quincy Archibald, a hard-working factory worker whose house stands to be repossessed and whose lovely wife (Kimberly Elise) is at her wits’ end. When his extremely cute son collapses while rounding the bases in a Little League game, things go from bad to worse. John Q. takes a downtown Chicago emergency room hostage when he learns that the heart transplant his son needs won’t be performed because his health care doesn’t cover it. The action-drama that ensues–replete with one-liners, stilted debate, inept snipers, and multiple references to O.J. Simpson’s white Bronco–is so littered with clichés that the issues, timely ones, get lost in a crescendo of melodrama. –Fionn Meade