CON AIR
A film review by David N. Butterworth
Copyright 1997 David N. Butterworth/The Summer Pennsylvanian
Rating: ** (Maltin scale)
Last year around this time, moviegoers were treated to a loud, explosive, big budget summer blockbuster called "The Rock." Produced by Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson, the film featured some big-name stars, a no-name director, and a plot concerning a bunch of terrorists making life difficult for our hero, Nicolas Cage. This summer, following the death of partner Simpson, Bruckheimer is flying solo, bringing us a loud, explosive, big budget action flick that features some big-name stars, a no-name director, and a plot concerning a bunch of convicts making life difficult for our hero, Nicolas Cage.
Sounds like a can't-lose formula, doesn't it?
Whereas "The Rock" was an intelligent, exciting, noisy piece of entertainment, "Con Air" is just plain noisy.
What "Con Air" is missing, first and foremost, is Sean Connery, whose dignified presence grounded "The Rock." "Con Air" has an impressive line-up of stars, but not one of them can fill Connery's shoes.
John Cusack, as U.S. marshal Vince Larkin, tries his best, but his character--an "annoying, wise-ass bookworm creep"--is too fresh faced and frantic to bring this picture home. Colm Meaney plays a real meaney of a D.E.A. agent, Duncan Malloy, whose sports car license plate reads "AZZ KIKR." Both want to bring the plane down, Larkin safely, Malloy with extreme force, so there's plenty for them to bicker about on the ground.
Then there's the fleshed-out roster of killers, rapists, and general threats to society onboard the massive C-123 transport plane that's transferring them all to a maximum security prison:
John Malkovich, as Cyrus "The Virus" Grissom, the leader of the piece, who likes to brag that he's killed more men than cancer. It takes more than a shaved head and a few snappy one-liners to play the embodiment of evil. Malkovich plays it for laughs, but his obvious asides ("Welcome to Con Air" and "Thank you for flying Con Air," for example) grow tiresome quickly. And after all, Connery's often-imitated "Welcome to the Rock, gentlemen" sounded so much better with a Scottish brogue.
Ving Rhames ("Striptease," "Rosewood"), as the militant Diamond Dog, doesn't have much of a role.
The hatchet-faced Danny Trejo is Johnny 23, so named because of the number of women he's raped. He's featured in a particularly vile scene, in which he threatens to make Rachel Ticotin's prison guard number 24, all in the name of cinema.
And last but not least, Steve Buscemi plays the Hannibal Lecter-inspired sociopath Garland Greene, replete with leather face mask and ironic observations. Buscemi actually gets the most frequent flyer mileage out of his character simply by playing it straight (if you're familiar with Buscemi's work, you'll know that's not easy). As the cargo plane crash lands on the Vegas strip, Buscemi's character is singing "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands," proving beyond a doubt his psychotic tendencies. Yes. For Buscemi, that's pretty straight.
As someone in the film astutely observes, this motley crew of undesirables makes the Manson family look like the Partridge family.
Then there's Cage, as parolee Cameron Poe. Poe's heading home to meet his wife and daughter after serving an eight-year sentence for manslaughter, the result of some necessary roughness outside a bar and a feeble defense lawyer. Poe gets to stow his carry-on luggage with Grissom's gang, and you just know he'll have more to worry about than "stale peanuts and a little turbulence." (Speaking of "Turbulence," the smug "Con Air" arrives even later at the gate than that absurd '96 flightfest.)
Cage has an interesting filmography, including a recent Oscar-winning performance in "Leaving Las Vegas." He's had his greatest moments playing oddball characters such as H.I. McDonough in "Raising Arizona"; the bitter, passionate baker in "Moonstruck"; and a cockroach-eating bloodsucker in "Vampire's Kiss." Although his flagrant shirtlessness in "Con Air" proves that he's buff-enuf to play an action hero, it seems a pity to waste his unique talents on this kind of pap.
In "Con Air," a lot of things blow up, and blow up some more. After about two hours, the explosions, shootings, explosions, wise-cracks, explosions, and intrusive sentimental interludes get very boring. While assuredly market wise, "Con Air" is significantly less than Rock-solid.
-- David N. Butterworth dnb@mail.med.upenn.edu
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