Review by Dan Taylor
In
the months leading up to the ballyhooed
release of the Vin Diesel/Rob Cohen action
flick XXX, we were force fed the party line
over and over again: This is not your father's
James Bond.
No, we were told, this new
breed of action hero would dump the hoary
cliches of the 007 franchise and reinvent
the spy flick for a new generation.
"Wow," I thought,
"maybe this means we'll be free of
the nebulous and contrived villains, double-crossing
femme fatales, overblown action sequences
and ho-hum plotlines that have plagued 007
in recent years."
Unfortunately, we get exactly
that in this two hour mish-mash of nebulous
and contrived villains (metalhead former
Soviet soldiers threatening Prague with
bio-weapons), double-crossing femme fatales
(Asia Argento doing her best Uma-Thurman-meets-drowned-rat
impression), overblow action sequences (the
stock Bond checklist of motorcycle chases,
ski chases, car chases), and ho-hum plotlines
(they're threatening Prague?!). Toss in
a gadget-packing geek (Michael Roof, who
supplies the film's only genuine breath
of fresh air) and you might as well have
called this JAMES BOND, JR.
Into this maelstorm of extreme
sports, ludicrous accents and Ramstein tunes
wades our boy Vin. Admittedly, I dig Diesel
and enjoyed his performances in BOILER ROOM,
PITCH BLACK and FAST AND THE FURIOUS (also
with director Cohen). The first showed he
could do more than break heads and the latter
two were perfect check-your-brain at the
door updates of the sci-fi-western and car-porn-crime-drama,
respectively. Unfortunately, this smug ego
trip has the look and feel of an up-and-coming
star buying into his next-action-superstar
press clippings lock, stock and barrel.
Diesel nasally mumbles his
way through the endless running time (another
Bond carryover), handcuffed by some of the
most ham-fisted and ludicrous dialogue this
side of a Saturday morning cartoon ("Welcome
to the Xander zone!"). You know, if
we all got together, we might be able to
prevent screenwriter Rich Wilkes from penning
anything more potent than an X-mas card.
As it stands, this XXX-mess is nothing short
of laughable, evoking more snickers, sighs
and giggles than oohs and ahhs from the
matinee crowd. Even Diesel looks (and sounds)
embarrassed at times.
For all their talk, Diesel
and Co. have done nothing more than update
the tired spy spectacular with a bald guy
in a fur coat. Hardly the groundbreaking
genre reinvention we were promised.
