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Collateral
(2004)
Dir: Michael Mann
A more engaging Bicardi Silver commercial I have yet to see, but that doesn’t make this movie worth a hill of fucking beans. At least ten minutes of the screen-time is devoted to the rum ad on top of Jamie Foxx’s taxi cab as he navigates Los Angeles’ gritty streets (think scorching saxophone). He employs a dramatically astute knowledge of both time and distance to wow his clientele. His initial charge, a pretty young lawyer (Jada Pinkett Smith) likes his no-nonsense approach to chauffeuring, and eventually they bond over a postcard picture of an island that Foxx keeps under his windshield visor for meditative relief (gag me). He tells her about the limousine service he plans on opening someday, they discuss the huge case she’s in town working, and then she gives him her number.
A successful lawyer gives a cab driver her number.
That would never fucking happen. But it is the first of many stupefying yet crucial coincidences that make Collateral possible. After she leaves, Tom Cruise gets in the cab. This isn’t Risky Business Tom. No, Cruise is in the throes of Lestat-caliber savagery. He is literally more terrifying than ever--even when cackling throughout interviews. He’s got silver hair, and spends large portions of the picture either beating the ever-loving shit out of people or shooting them in the face. Downtime is spent pontificating the meaninglessness of human life in the back seat of the cab. Very enlightening, but shit, ever see Willie Shoemaker demolish a nightclub wearing an Italian suit, all blasted on PCP?
Get ready.
As lunatic as things got in Heat, one of Mann’s finest films, none of the characters’ behaviors were irrational. In fact, the methodical planning that goes into just about every plot point in Heat makes it the brilliant film that it is. Furthermore, the bank robbery scene, where the music drops away completely and the soundtrack is flooded with automatic rifle fire, is one of the most invigorating sequences in movie history. No shit. That makes it even harder to believe that Mann has directed this film--which features an Alice in Chains song (“Man in the Box.” Sooo deep).
Collateral has no fucking sense. Cruise’s steely hitman makes one dipshit move after another, and Jamie Foxx is a big pussy. Would a truly shrewd gun-for-hire, ride around L.A.--speeding from hit to hit--in a blood-stained taxi with a broken windshield and a corpse in the trunk? It goes on like this to the point where it seems certain that the hair-dye sunk into his brain. Foxx just plain over acts, like he’s trying to temper the rubber-face doofus he plays on The Jamie Foxx Show. Jada Pinkett Smith is good at being married to Will Smith.
Slippery, fast-paced, entertaining movie.
Bad, bad movie.
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