Christopher McQuarrie's "The Way of the Gun" is a noirish crime story without the post-modern irony of Quentin Tarantino. Although this may be a refreshing conceit, the film is nothing more than disposable, mean-spirited, one-dimensional hogwash with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.
The convoluted story deals with two amoral sociopaths, Mr. Parker (Ryan Phillippe) and Longbaugh (Benicio Del Toro), who will either resort to petty crimes or minimum wage jobs. Thoroughly unsure of themselves, they head to a sperm bank where they overhear about a pregnant woman, Robin (Juliette Lewis), who has agreed to a $1 million fee to carry the baby of a wealthy oil tycoon and his desperate, gold-digging wife. The terminably stupid sociopaths decide there is a bargain here if they kidnap the pregnant woman for a fifteen million dollar ransom. Problem is they are new at this kind of crime, and have no notion on what to do next (heck, Robin is quicker at defending herself with a shotgun than they are).
Naturally, a cleaner or "adjudicator" (essentially a smooth hitman played by James Caan) pursues the trio, along with two bodyguards (the appealing coolness of Taye Diggs and the tactful Nicky Katt, who played a grimier, similar role in "The Limey"). This leads them to the seediest kind of motel just south of the Mexican border where Parker and Longbaugh are holding Robin hostage. And, to remind some of good old Sam Peckinpah, there is an overlong, tedious shootout involving the antiheroes and bag men, culminating in an empty fountain with broken shards of glass.
The film starts well enough, particularly the kidnapping scene amidst lots of gunfire where Robin makes the mistake of not following the bodyguards' orders. Unfortunately, as written and directed by McQuarrie (who wrote the superior "The Usual Suspects"), there is scant character development and the personalities of the sociopaths are nonexistent - they are merely cartoonish types used as props to advance the plot. There isn't a single character the audience could possibly identify with except for Juliette Lewis's humane Robin, faced with carrying a baby while evading bullets, and screaming and hollering with pain through the whole movie while in labor. Lewis makes her character sympathetic but since she is not the main focus of the film, we are left with far too many ugly, emotionally corrupted people taking center stage. Boy, do I miss Kevin Spacey's Verbal Quint from "Usual Suspects."
James Caan adds a touch of vulnerability to the proceedings and has some clever lines (Examples: "$15 million is not money. It's a motive with a universal adaptor on it." "Let's just say I deal in the fine art of adjudication.") He also has a touching scene with Geoffrey Lewis, a suicidal drinking buddy. In fact, it was nice to see Geoffrey Lewis share one scene with his real-life daughter Juliette, though I would have hoped for more than seeing them in another typical shootout. As for the leading troublemakers, Phillippe hardly has much going for him except for a noticeable accent, and Del Toro seems to be in a leftover drug-stoked haze from "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." You want to see these two murderers rubbed out within the first half-hour, and that does not say much for McQuarrie. He makes the mistake of not instilling any humanity in these characters, so if he doesn't care, why should we?
Conflicted and burdened by repetitive shootouts and silly twists and turns, "The Way of the Gun" is an empty void with an ugly, interminable streak of meanness. Film noir at its most fatalistic tells us there is no escape from the world. Fortunately, you have the option of escaping from this travesty by way of the theatre exits.
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