Bad Company (2002)

Starring: Anthony Hopkins, Chris Rock
Director: Joel Schumacher

Rating: PG-13

Studio: Touchstone

Review Posted: 6.7.02

Spoilers: Minor

Rating: 1/4

By Drew Taylor.

Ah, vacation. Some people lay out on the beach, soaking up the gloriously cancerous rays of the almighty sun. Others take an exotic trip to a faraway land. For Anthony Hopkins, he does "Bad Company."

The talented British actor, who has recently outdone himself with challenging work on such films as "Titus" (the Shakespearean blitzkrieg orchestrated by the chick that did the "Lion King" stage show) and Ridley Scott’s "Hannibal" (a midnight movie dressed up like the mainstream), literally strolls through "Bad Company." Among other leisurely activities preformed during the course of this grueling two-hour movie: chewing gum, wearing a baseball cap all the time, gnawing on a toothpick, and reading a book.

"Bad Company" shows its signs of suckiness early on, as Chris Rock puts on a "serious face" as a CIA Agent in league with Anthony Hopkins' hardened veteran spook, who's trying to buy a nuclear bomb… or something. Anyway, he dies. Enter Chris Rock. Again. This time, he's playing an identical twin to the man we saw in the opening sequence, only this character is a poor, streetwise hustler in New York City. Apparently, the only way for the CIA to go through with this big, bomb-busting operation is to have the scammer fill in for the dead brother. Hilarity is supposed to ensure, but it never does.

The seed of the idea, as clichéd and overplayed as it is, is an intriguing one, with the door seemingly left wide open for a variety of potential stunts or funny situations. (The fact that Mick Garris, a veteran horror director, took his name off the production after initially getting a 'story by' credit isn't too good a sign, either.) But the story just limps along, from one muddled, confusing action sequence to another. The dialogue, dribbling out of the actors' mouths, is painful to listen to. (Who knew CIA Agents speak so poorly?) And it goes on for two hours.

Joel Schumacher, former bad costumer and now bad director, is clearly to blame for much of this nonsense. The man who started out making icky, neo-punk Brat Pack movies in the eighties ("The Lost Boys" and "Flatliners"), and went on to single handedly destroy the gothic beauty of the "Batman" films by turning them into candy-colored, homoerotic off-off-off Broadway play. He’s flirted with greatness, particularly with "Tigerland" and "Falling Down," but botched both attempts at the films actually meaning something. ("Tigerland" was shot like a big, gay Abercrombie & Fitch ad, and "Falling Down" leaves you with the simple notion that life sucks and even if you go about brandishing numerous firearms, you'll still die and life still sucks.) He's just… a cancer.
(Before I wrap this up, let me just say that Chris Rock is annoying as fuck.)

By the last act, we've seen Peter Stormare (who isn’t even credited, according to IMDB) show up with a bunch of leather-clad Eastern Europeans who look more like a German techno band than a group of super-deadly terrorists, and the action relocated (courtesy of a stupid-ass kidnapping) to New York City. When that happens, the film takes a turn for the even-worse, as we're getting a heaping of NYC-set terrorism that is just ugly and uncalled for. (The film was finished before September 11th.) Whereas "Sum of All Fears" was an insightful view at the alarming future that could be, this seems to echo everything real life terrorism does: unpleasantness and harm. And that may be the biggest shame of all: mindless entertainment making you feel like shit.

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