Death Sentence

I saw DEATH SENTENCE a couple of days ago, and already I can only barely remember it.

DEATH SENTENCE is a variation of the "I love my family. But, if I could be unencumbered, imagine all the kickass stuff I could do!" story. For kids, this story often begins with a separation or orphaning. For adults, it's death or sudden divorce. In this case, it's death: Kevin Bacon is a professional, family guy. His older son is killed in a robbery, and he seeks revenge. When the bad guys come after his family, he's freed to unleash his inner Rambo.

That's fine, and Bacon is as good as usual. But the movie itself has serious flaws. Director James Wan's failures to establish geography leave audiences confused during chase and stalking sequences: who is where, and who is winning? Its bombastic use of color and set design (There's a sequence in a church that lacked only John Woo's flying doves.) distracts us from the film and calls too much attention to the filmmakers. Its use of shaky-cam during fight sequences takes us out of the action and annoys rather than entertains.

Further, as far as revenge fantasies go, DEATH SENTENCE tries to have it both ways. On the one hand, it expects us to believe that Bacon can go from insurance adjustor to killing machine just because he's really mad. On the other, it turns him into a Karloffian monster, as if to wag its finger at us for rooting for him. Pick a side, movie, and stick with it!

Finally, I've just devoted more thought to this film in the last half hour than I did for the two days prior. If you're a Kevin Bacon completist, knock yourself out. Otherwise, you can easily dismiss this film. It's minor at best, bad at worst. You can do better.

Knocked Up

While not as riotously funny as SUPERBAD, KNOCKED UP is still quite funny. And touching. And insightful. And sweet. It's a perfect date movie, but you don't have to be a date to enjoy it. Here's another winner for Judd Apatow; a guy who, at the moment, can do no wrong.

Here's the setup: Seth Rogen's a schlubby slacker who somehow manages to fall into bed with the delightful Katherine Heigl. Two months later, and to her horror, Heigle realizes that she's pregnant. Will this mismatched couple figure out how to navigate both pregnancy and the early stages of an actual relationship? Oh, come on: it's a romantic comedy. Of course they will. The real question is, will this mismatched couple do so in a sufficiently amusing way? You betcha.

As with SUPERBAD and THE 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN, the comedy here is all in the dialogue. At the moment, no one's consistently writing funny dialogue as well as Apatow (and buddy Rogen), and KNOCKED UP is no exception. These characters are a delight to see and hear, and I suspect that I'll find more to enjoy about their conversations when I see this film again with my delightful bride. Further, you know how most romantic comedies have at least one of the characters learning some schmaltzy life lesson and then beat us with it? KNOCKED UP sells its character development through clever and perceptive insights into relationships both starting and established.

Take all this, mix in a love for its characters, and any question as to why this film was such a monster hit goes away. This is a smart, funny film. I look forward to seeing it again.

Superbad

SUPERBAD is the funniest movie I've seen in months. Its jokes range from broad to subtle, its characters feel and behave in comically realistic ways, and its humour feels natural, rather than forced. There's never a sense, as in BALLS OF FURY, that this film is jumping around and shouting, "Look at me! I'm funny!" It just is.

SUPERBAD follows three geeks on the cusp of high school graduation. There's the skinny one, the fat one, and the one who lives at the very bottom of the social ladder. Unlike NAPOLEON DYNAMITE, which invites us to laugh at its geeks, SUPERBAD invites us to laugh with them as they embark on a quest which, for a high schooler, is all-important: they need to score some alcohol for a party (Side note: when we were in high school and wanted alcohol, we drove around town with our prettiest friend. When we spotted a liquor store that was staffed by a man either very young or very old, we sent her in with cash and a smile. Worked every time.). Along the way, they try their hands at forgery, petty theft, setting police cars on fire, and scaring the hell out of small children. It sounds horrendous, I know, but trust me when I say that it's all in good fun. These kids mean well, they really do, and we can't help but like them and root for them.

That's fine, and it could make for a reasonably pleasant time at the movies, but that isn't what makes SUPERBAD so funny. It's the dialogue, baby, and SUPERBAD is a dialogue-rich film that creates some of the most hilarious exchanges I've enjoyed since KISS, KISS, BANG, BANG. I saw this with some friends the other night, and we've been quoting lines back and forth ever since.

Additionally, this movie has a sweetness to it that gives it a warm glow. There's no villain, per se - just situations. It' s nice, and it avoids the uncomfortable changes in tone that hurts movies like THE WEDDING CRASHERS.

Overall, I rate SUPERBAD as a huge, huge hit. It's the kind of movie one can see over and over again, and I fully intend to. What a great comedy.

Balls of Fury

Remember Maggie Q, the single best thing about MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: 3? She was so striking in that red dress that, when she turned up in BALLS OF FURY, I decided to write my review as if BOF were a Maggie Q vehicle, as if hers was the only story being told. But you know what? BALLS OF FURY taught me that a little Maggie Q goes a long way. 15 seconds of her in a red dress may capture the imagination, but twenty minutes of her in bikini-style workout gear only makes us realize that she has the body of a malnourished teenager. Combine that with an on-screen personality that, while pleasant enough, isn't particularly interesting, and it wasn't long before I was wishing that she'd get off the screen so Christopher Walken could have more time to camp it up.

BALLS OF FURY is broad comedy, not a deep one. It's a collection of gags slapped on to an ENTER THE DRAGON chassis, and that's fine, if you're ok with 86 minutes of "Ping Pong is a Silly Game" gags. I was sufficiently ok with it to chuckle now and then, occasionally smile, and otherwise lose track of time. Christopher Walken appears to be having a great time delivering a bad Christopher Walken impression, it's always fun to spend some time with James Hong and Terry Crews, and some guy named Thomas Lennon steals the show as a pompous German antagonist.

I could see stopping on BALLS OF FURY if I'm clicking through the channels on a hotel tv some night, but I couldn't see going out of my way for it again. Your mileage may vary.

Rocky II

I saw ROCKY II again.

You know what stood out for me this time? The absolute brilliance of Conti's score. It starts out '70s-funky, then goes all high-Rocky classical during the montage, then seamlessly blends into the tune on his baby's new mobile, then brings in the Wagnerian sensibility during the climactic bout. It is absolutely brilliant, and it makes me want to buy the soundtrack. As long as they leave out Frank Stallone.

As for the rest of the film, it's a bummer for the first two acts, but the third is so uplifting that it makes up for it. Here's the deal: Rocky blows through his fight money in no time, and, before he knows it, he's just another unemployed mook with a baby on the way. Meanwhile, Apollo needs to redeem his performance in his previous fight, and he tries to lure Rocky back into the ring. Rocky demurs and opens a dairy farm in the Swiss Alps.

Just kidding. You know what happens. But it's good stuff, everyone loves those iconic steps, and Stallone knows how to put together a fight scene. And if that doesn't work for you, you can always close your eyes and just listen to the soundtrack. A person can do worse for a couple of hours.

Nine Lives

NINE LIVES is an ambitious picture. It's a series of twelve sometimes-connected vignettes, each of which centers on a turning point in a character's life. It tries something new, and for that I give it credit. Sadly, it fails.

The characters in NINE LIVES all speak like the same writer is creating their dialogue. The movie's various cast members act their hearts out, but their performances feel more like acting class exercises then real people. After reading Ebert's glowing review of the picture, I was all ready to settle down for a great experience. Unfortunately, NINE LIVES didn't deliver that for me.

Godzilla: Final Wars

The Japanese People hate me.

I don't know why. I drive a Honda. I eat sushi. I even do Japanese language tapes in my car. Why, oh why, would the members of this great and noble culture choose to inflict GODZILLA: FINAL WARS upon me? By throwing nearly every monster in the history of Godzilla movies into the thing (yes, including the horrid Minilla), they guaranteed repeated viewings at Chez Ellermann, much to the delight of my little boy. And they guaranteed hours of torment for Yours Truly.

GFW teams up a Japanese guy who looks like Keanu Reeves with a white guy who looks like Stalin. Together, they do battle with an evil alien overlord who looks like David Bowie's villain from THE LABYRINTH. I mean, c'mon, this movie thinks executive transvestites make for credible villains! Well, this particular executive transvestite does seem to have the power to control monsters from Godzilla's past, but any awesomness he could derive from this ability is more than offset by his poor taste in mascara.

This movie is poorly edited, atrociously acted, and can't decide whether it's trying to pay homage to THE MATRIX and INDEPENDENCE DAY or merely rip them off outright. The whole production has only one redeeming virtue: it gives us the spectacle of Classic Godzilla kicking American Godzilla's butt, followed by a quick photo-and-roar-op with Mt. Fuji as a backdrop. If that's your thing, you may enjoy at least five minutes of GFW. Otherwise, stay far, far away.

Strings

STRINGS is a marionette movie with a, erm, twist. Instead of having
its puppets serve as humans and asking us to ignore the strings, its
puppets serve as puppets and embrace their strings. They have a
string-based theology, marionette-centered architecture, and a vision
of birth that's unlike anything you've ever seen before.

The story itself is standard faery tale stuff: a kingdom at war, an
evil usurper, a rightful king, and all the standard "hero's journey"
elements. If this were a CGI film, or even a live-action picture, I'd
probably recommend giving it a pass. But it isn't, and the absolutely
outstanding set design, art direction, and puppeteering make this one
worth the rental.

STRINGS takes you a world familiar enough to understand, yet alien
enough to delight and astonish you. Enjoy.

The Aristocrats

Here's something you probably don't know about me: I have an incredibly vulgar sense of humor. When I'm hanging out in a ready room, I'll go lower faster than anyone there. The "Oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-he-just-said-that" laugh is a cheap laugh, but I'll take it any time.

In other words, THE ARISTOCRATS was right up my alley. For its first hour or so, the movie had me going from chuckling to guffawing to weeping to back again with hardly a letup. Then the movie made a fatal mistake: it gave us Kevin Pollack telling the joke as Christopher Walken, a performance so brilliant that no one - no one - could possibly follow it. By climaxing too early, the movie left me rather disinterested for the remainder.

But I was ready to watch it again five minutes after that.

PS One major disappointment: THE ARISTOCRATS gives us Shelley Berman (my favorite comedian) talking about the joke, but never actually telling the joke. I would've loved to have seen his take!

PPS My wife left the room after twenty minutes, so YMMV. I don't tell her ready room jokes, either.

PPPS Sarah Silverman: I don't get it. Who's Joe Franklin?

The Manitou

Some movies are simply bad, some are horribly bad, and some are delightfully bad. 1978's THE MANITOU, starring Tony Curtis as a sham psychic and Susan Strasberg as a topless, psychic, evil-immortal-medicine-man battler, is wonderfully, delightfully bad in nearly every way. It embraces its profound badness, has great fun with it, and invites us to join in. Depending on your mood at the time of viewing, you're bound either to enjoy the heck out of it or hit the "Stop" button about 15 minutes in. It's up to you.

Here's the setup: Curtis is a sham psychic, ripping off old ladies in San Francisco. He's living the good living, grooving to funk and drinking canned beer, when an old girlfriend (Strasberg) calls. She has a problem: there's a fetus growing in her back, and that can't be good.

Before he knows it, Curtis is interviewing Burgess Meredith (playing a guy who clearly study the script and is just ad-libbing his way through things) learning that said fetus is the reincarnation of the aforementioned evil, immortal medicine man. He's off to the reservation to find another medicine man to help him out, then it's back to the hospital, where Strasberg is giving back-birth to a midget in a rubber suit. From there, well, all I can say is that there are some movies that make me wish I did drugs. I have difficulty imagine how much better Topless Strasberg mentally battling Rubber Suit Midget in space (space!) could be, but I can't watch that scene and not think that it wasn't made for mushrooms.

So: THE MANITOU. Nowhere near good, but actually quite fun. You could do worse.

PS If you watch this, be sure to watch the trailers first. They'll really put you in the mood.

Shoot 'Em Up

I should have loved SHOOT 'EM UP. I really should have. I've made relatives sit down for HARD BOILED. I think the BOURNE movies are top notch. Hell, I consider the two TRANSPORTER movies borderline classic cinema.

But I merely liked it. I suppose that's ok.

SHOOT 'EM UP stars Clive Owen as Bugs Bunny and Paul Giamatti as Elmer Fudd. Or is it Clive Owen as Roadrunner and Paul Giamatti as Wile E. Coyote? Owen as Tom and Giamatti as Jerry? Whichever, these two cartoon characters chase and get chased across a breathless 86 minutes filled with more gunfire, 'splosions, and chases than you can drop an anvil on. It's fun, or at least it starts fun, but it grows tiresome as the body count rises and it nihilistic tone comes to grate on the nerves. By the time this bulletfest turns into an anti-gun screed (talk about trying to have your cake and eat it, too), I'd had enough.

Paul Giamatti, the reason why I saw this movie, is delightfully, insanely evil. I can imagine the actor cackling and rubbing his hands together while reading this script for the first time. He's balanced against Clive Owen, an actor I've liked only in those BMW short films. People keep telling me that Owen is the Next Big Thing, but I don't get it. He just seems dour and angry, and if I want dour and angry I'll just look up an old girlfriend. Further, SHOOT 'EM UP wastes the magnificent Monica Belluci in a role that makes me wonder why she accepted it.

Yes, some of the stunts are spectacular. There's a skydiving setpiece that's simply breathtaking. There's some of the most creative gunplay I've seen since EL MARIACHI. But there's very little to leaven it. In addition to its action, SHOOT 'EM UP makes us sit through an hour and a half of human despair and degradation.

And that, I can live without.

3:10 to Yuma

3:10 TO YUMA is both a fine western and a sad commentary on the current state of the western.

James Mangold has crafted a fine western with an extraordinary cast, featuring two of the finest leading men in pictures today: Christian Bale and Russell Crowe. The men sell antagonism, respect, and something approaching friendship, and I enjoyed watching the development of their relationship over the course of the film. The film itself has nearly everything one can expect from a western, including evil water barons, post- Civil War hostility, Apaches on the raid, and the impending changes brought on by rail travel. It also features some decent western stuntwork, but it's this very stuntwork that makes 3:10 TO YUMA a sad commentary on the current state of its genre. Where are the horses trained to fall and tumble? Where are the stuntmen trained to ride them? For that matter, where are the stuntmen trained to hop from horse to horse, or carry out any of the other feats we've come to expect as followers of the genre? I think that 3:10 TO YUMA tried to provide us with some of those thrills; but its genre has seemed unprofitable for so long that modern stuntmen simply aren't building the skills necessary to pull off first-class western stunts.

And that's too bad, because the western genre still has so much to offer. 3:10 TO YUMA, while a remake, stays fresh, compelling, and exciting up to the very end. Though it stumbles with a leaden confession late in the game, it delivers fine western action and he-man pathos throughout. It's more TOMBSTONE than OPEN RANGE, and that's ok. Here's a movie that just wants to entertain us, and it succeeds.

{hesitates ... hesitates ... aw, to heck with it}

Catch this movie.

Persona

This week, I'm alone on a business trip. Celebrating my fleeting freedom of action, last night I permitted myself a rare indulgence: a tumbler of Maker's Mark bourbon, a Cuesta Rey cigar, and Ingmar Bergman's PERSONA. It was a tough decision. The local Cineplex is showing 3:10 TO YUMA and SHOOT ‘EM UP, both of which I’d like to see on the big screen. But I don’t often get the chance to watch a whole Bergman movie uninterrupted, and I couldn’t pass it by.

I chose well. While I’m confident that I’ll enjoy 3:10 TO YUMA and SHOOT ‘EM UP when I get around to seeing them, I’ll be shocked if either movie turns out to be as flat-out entertaining as PERSONA. Yep, an hour and a half of two women alone in a summer house, with one of the women uttering exactly one line of dialogue, makes for riveting, consuming cinema – the kind of cinema that makes you forget what time it is, where you’re sitting, even who you are. Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullman are just that interesting.

PERSONA begins with a series of WTF images that may explore the history of cinema, the deepest churnings of the unconscious, or even the flotsam and jetsam from which we pull together an identity. From another director, I’d dismiss it as so much self-important wankery, but I’ve seen enough of Bergman’s films to trust the guy’s mastery of dramatic narrative. Thus, I was willing to go where it took me, into a mind-state of disequilibrium and expectation. From there, we meet Ullman, a famous actress who, mid-performance, has chosen to give up interaction with the world and, instead withdraw into herself. Ullman has a fascinating face that, while not exactly beautiful, invites contemplation. What’s happening behind those eyes? How deep is her despair? What does she see that the rest of us don’t? These questions come to consume Andersson, a young nurse assigned to Ullman who agrees with a doctor’s suggestion that she take her patient to the doctor’s beach house for a long recovery (Note: if this is what universal health care looks like, sign me up!).

Once at the beach house, we enjoy a pair of remarkable performances: Andersson all talk and existential longing, and Ullman, all contemplation and, perhaps, wisdom. When a violation of trust collapses the roles and walls between them, PERSONA gives us a brilliant exploration of the nature of identity and the quest for, well, something.

PERSONA is beautiful to watch, another successful collaboration between Bergman and his cinematographer, Sven Nykvist. The combination of light and shadow, image upon image, and simple physical composition makes PERSONA a film that surprises and delights from beginning to end.

It’s a whole different kind of entertainment from the offerings down at the multiplex, but it’s flat-out magnificent. I loved every frame.

Scooby-Doo

Some movies have "disaster" written all over them. Take an old cartoon, mix in some minor-league actors, and modernize the
proceedings with a generous sprinkling of "hip" contemporary references, and you have a movie that can't possibly go right.
SCOOBY-DOO is such a movie.

Perhaps the greatest mystery is how this certain trainwreck turned out to be a fun, enjoyable picture. The picture begins with a sequence straight out of the vintage cartoons, then adds a few twists to generate dramatic tension. From there, it's on to the next mystery and the inevitable, "And it would've worked, too, if it hadn't been for you meddling kids!"

SCOOBY-DOO's cast members sell their roles, it's a pleasure to look at the movie's sets, and the whole thing is much more fun than I'd expected.

What a pleasant surprise!

Babylon 5: The Lost Tales - Voices in the Dark

BABYLON 5: THE LOST TALES - VOICES IN THE DARK is a direct-to-video movie, but I'd apply the term "movie" rather loosely. It's more like a couple of episodes stitched together. Your tolerance for this will depend, in large part, on your tolerance for B5 in general.

If you like B5, you'll find plenty to enjoy in VOICES IN THE DARK. Some of our familiar friends got back in shape and it's always nice to see them again. The dialogue they're forced to recite still has that charming combination of earnestness and pulpiness. The CGI got an upgrade, and who doesn't love those wacky alien hairstyles?

If you're not a fan, there isn't much for you here. This movie assumes familiarity with the series and, though the stories are straitforward enough to understand, you'll spend at least some of your time thinking, "They're alluding to something, but I have no idea what."

I like the B5 universe. I like its optimism, and I like its makeshift qualities. Although VOICES IN THE DARK seems unlikely to win over many new fans, I do hope it sells well enough to merit further DTV outins for these fine folks. I'd like to keep tabs on what they're up to.

Vacancy

So this is how the career path goes: break out with an international success, accept an invitation to Hollywood, and make your bones as a commercial director in genre fare such as VACANCY.

At least, this is how it's going for Nimród Antal, the Hungarian director of 2003's remarkable KONTROLL. Where KONTROLL was haunting, dreamlike, and rather puzzling, VACANCY is a straightforward horror thriller whose every beat will seem familiar to anyone who has ever seen a picture that begins with someone saying, "Why didn't you stay on the interstate?" That said, VACANCY is a very professional "Don't Get Off The Interstate" horror thriller: a step up from MOTEL HELL, though not in the same league as PSYCHO (which it recalls through clever use of 60's-style opening and closing credits).

Here's the setup: Kate Beckinsale wakes up in the passenger seat of a car driving through the toolies in the middle of the night. She turns to her husband (Luke Wilson, who's been going heavy on the electrolytes) and says, "Why'd you get off the interstate?" Things go downhill from there.

And that's it, really. The rest is in the execution, and it's here that Antal proves himself an able craftsman. He finds novel ways to build and maintain suspense, though we all know what's coming next and who'll still be on two feet when the credits roll. He manages to create suitably creepy villains, alternates well between jump-scares and slow burns, and even manages to work in a bit of subtle comedy. In other words, the guy takes a familiar subgenre out of the garage, puts some gas in the tank, and takes it for a fun spin.

But this is Nimród Antal, the guy behind KONTROLL, we're talking about. Next time, I hope they let him get off the interstate.

Safety Last!

While GRANDMA'S BOY may be funnier that SAFETY LAST!, there's no topping the latter's dazzling combination of comedy and acrophobia.

Harold Lloyd is off the Big City to make his mark and earn enough to marry his best girl (Mildred Davis), but things aren't working out so well. He's just getting by and, when Mildred shows up, he needs to find a way to make good on his empty boasts of success. If you care about movies, you know that, somehow, this will end up with Harold dangling from a clockface, high above the city. How he gets in that predicament, and how he gets out of it, is great fun.

And there's plenty of fun to be had throughout SAFETY LAST!. Lloyd's character is so gosh-darn charming that you can't help but root for him, and you love to see him come out on top. From a well-executed boarding-house sequence to a near-riot in a department store to Lloyd's vertiginous climb to that clock face and beyond, the comedy, both situational and gag-oriented snaps.

Most impressive, perhaps, is that famous climb to the clock and beyond. It manages to walk a line between scary and funny, and it had me both chuckling and wincing with acrophobia from start to finish. What a treat.

SAFETY LAST! is out on DVD, and the print looks fantastic. Put this movie at the top of your queue.

Babel

THE TRANSPORTER 2 is a better moviegoing experience than BABEL.

BABEL teaches us that guns are bad: look for a young Moroccan boy destroying a gun in a climactic fit of fury, sadness, and despair. THE TRANSPORTER 2 teaches us that guns are for losers: real men use car-fu, firehose fu, bead curtain fu, sword fu, lead pipe fu, axe fu, coconut fu, boat fu, and Gulfstream IV fu, just to name a, er, few. BABEL features heartbreaking turns from a brilliant cast featuring Cate Blanchett, Gael Garcia Bernal, and some cat from SNATCH. THE TRANSPORTER 2 features evil foreigners, anorexic models, and some cat from SNATCH kicking people in the face. BABEL features a girl in a schoolgirl outfit flashing her Britney at random Japanese schoolboys. THE TRANSPORTER 2 featurs a girl in a schoolgirl outfit who jacks cars with a gang of cartoonish thugs. And speaking of girls, all BABEL can give us is a clothing-challenged girl weeping on her father's shoulder, while THE TRANSPORTER 2 delivers a clothing-challenged girl in heavy mascara wielding dual automatic weapons and laying down the aforementioned bead curtain fu.

All kidding aside, BABEL is two hours of the anticipation of horror, horror, and despair. Its painfulness is outweighed only by its heavyhandedness, with self-absorbed first-worlders weighed against salt-of-the-earth second-worlders. Not only did I feel that this film was trying to manipulate me into a decidedly unpleasant emotional place, but I thought that it was doing so dishonestly. And really, enough of these "hyperlink films." I liked SHORT CUTS as much as the next guy, but there's no joy in discovering the connections the film lays out before us. Just tell me a story, goshdarnit. Entertain me. Teach and enlighten me if you can, but don't preach at me. And if you can manage it, try and mix in a little cocounut fu. Coconut fu does wonders for any film.

Serenity

I watch very little TV. "Baseball Tonight," "The Daily Show," and "The Colbert Report" are pretty much it. When it comes to narrative entertainment, I prefer films - they're a fully self-contained experience.

So I never saw "Firefly" when it aired. I never saw it on cable. I saw it only when a friend was certain I'd like it that he drove to my home, dropped off the series DVDs, and told me to call him once I'd seen them all. And you know what? I liked it. I really liked it.

I liked the creatively imagined solar system of "Firefly." I liked the blending of American and Chinese argots. I liked that fact that, finally, here was a show about transport guys!

So I was happy to fire up SERENITY when it arrived at my door. I'm sorry to report, however, that it found it to be, well, just pretty good. While the movie tickled my imagination, it didn't quite capture it. There are too many "big moments." The resolution of the mystery surrounding the kung-fu psycho chick wasn't particularly satisfying, and I thought that these people had gone to all this trouble merely to uncover the scandal of the week.

Hey, "just pretty good" isn't all that bad. Catch SERENITY when it shows up on cable. But don't go out of your way for it.

The Transporter 2

The Transporter 2 takes direct aim at your inner child and gives it everything it could possibly want. If, that is, your inner child is a 15-year-old boy.

Fortunately, mine is: I had a great time with TT2. It's basically action porn, with a paper-thin plot just moving us from one set piece to the next. It pays minimal attention to character development or motivation, but it does spend a lot of time lovingly filming cars in various states of speeding, sliding, flying, rolling, and getting shot at. This is a movie that goes easy on the dialogue and heavy on the kicking of people in the face, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Bring on The Transporter 3!