Sunday, Jul 20, 2008
Ben Affleck and Samuel L. Jackson collide in a preachy revenge thriller.
Apr 12, 2002 | Tit-for-tat vengeance probably first appeared in cave paintings, but to truly grasp the requirements needed to make cruelty entertaining, consider Mad Magazine's simple but brilliant "Spy vs. Spy" comic. Its silent, vicious crows live only for revenge; each tries repeatedly to outdo the other with explosives, helicopters, motorcycles -- whatever they can find. And though the birds clearly served a message (launched in 1961 and drawn by Cuban exile Antonio Prohias, "Spy vs. Spy" was a parody of Cold War espionage), the comic never bludgeoned readers with political or social pronouncements. The crows, one dressed in black, one in white, simply offered panel after panel of suspense, action and a form of creative sadism that consistently kept readers guessing.
In other words, "Spy vs. Spy" had exactly what the predictable and preachy new film "Changing Lanes" lacks: a dedication to surprise, an apolitical stance and an ability to revel in the fertile, fetid muck of revenge. Morality plays clearly have their place in cinema, and films that aim for serious themes ought to be admired for their ambition, but "Changing Lanes" -- despite some solid acting and cinematography -- mistakenly turns what should have been a fast-paced thriller into a cerebral sermon about the slippery slope of corporate law.
When a white Wall Street lawyer named Gavin Banek (Ben Affleck) crashes his Mercedes into a Toyota driven by Doyle Gipson (Samuel L. Jackson), a black working class stiff who's trying to overcome alcoholism and imminent divorce, viewers have a right to expect firecracker action. When the plot -- driven by Banek's attempt to retrieve a file he left at the scene of the accident -- so obviously lends itself to rage, we have a right to be entertained. At the very least, we should be given the chance to voyeuristically watch each character rise to a boil. Their brutish back-and-forth volleys -- whether psychological or physical; whether based on class, race or simple passion -- ought to make us squirm with awe, dark laughter or shame.
Additional violence would have done the trick. "Spy vs. Spy" may be something of a personal archetype, but blood-and-guts movies about revenge, contrary to what most critics will tell you, frequently achieve the kind of moral depth that "Changing Lanes" wants so badly to provide. "Rambo," for example, introduced Gen Xers like myself to the complexities of the Vietnam War and to questions about a when a soldier has the right to rebel. The "Alien" series gave us Ripley, the strongest woman seen on film since Bette Davis and Joan Crawford went head to head in "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" Even "Memento," though less bloody than "Rambo" or "Alien," uses violence to reinvent the otherwise tired "revenge has consequences" theme.
And yet, "Changing Lanes" need not have appealed only to our inner Mr. Blonde, Michael Madsen's ear-chopping character in "Reservoir Dogs." The screenwriters -- novelist Michael Tolkin (author of the book and film versions of "The Player") and Chap Taylor, for whom this is a debut -- could have followed the path of classic psychological horrors like "Gaslight" and "Rebecca," which used cold, malevolent villains to send chills down audience's spines. Or, they could have created a mix of physical suffering and psychology, à la "In the Bedroom."
Many potential paths were open, but the point is that "Changing Lanes" needs more oomph -- more rage, more creativity, more power. The movie doesn't quite push far enough to stand out. The script contains several impressive literary flourishes, and Affleck, Jackson and Kim Staunton -- who plays Gipson's estranged wife Valerie with eye-popping intensity -- all turn in solid, believable performances. They alternate between anger and remorse without missing a beat.
But therein lies the movie's main problem; the characters are forced to go back and forth, moving through minor emotional ups and downs, far too often. Whoever was in charge of this picture -- director Roger Michell, making his Hollywood debut after directing "Notting Hill" and a handful of other British films, probably deserves much of the blame -- seems to have rejected the idea of rising tension.
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