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Time gets the best of us
eventually. This maxim is borne out time and again in the Hollywood
movie star factories notorious for devouring their elders; supplanting
stars who gracefully give in to the natural procession of gray hair and
laugh lines for the pneumatic fresh faces of untried and often
untalented. For those actors alert enough to hear the ticking of the
Hollywood time bomb there lies another option - moving away from the
heartthrob roles and reinventing oneself as an action star.
Liam Neeson has carved out an
unusual niche for himself in cinema, hovering between being a reluctant
romantic lead {1995’s Rob Roy} and the interesting character
parts he so often chose {1993’s Schindler’s List, 2004’s Kinsey,
2005’s Batman Begins}. In Taken, Neeson has thrown over any such
ambiguity and decided to take up the throne left by Harrison Ford in his
Indiana Jones/ Jack Ryan-era prime. Would that he had the steady hand
of a Philip Noyce or Wolfgang Petersen to help him make the transition;
instead, perhaps cannily, Neeson is working with Luc Besson’s Europacorp,
prestidigitators of such mass-appeal fare as the Transporter series and
various subclass Jet Li films.
The title gives us the on-dit;
Neeson plays Bryan Mills, a father whose teenage daughter goes missing
while on overseas holiday. The naïve girl has fallen into the grubby
mitts of a human-trafficking ring. The big twist in that simple setup
is the fact that Mills is no ordinary father meant to sit at home
wringing his hands waiting for a call from Interpol. Mills is a retired
special agent who gave up the game in order to spend time with the
daughter he barely saw during his active years in US service. His cold,
calculated assessments of the situations and threats before him come
from years of life-or-death experience and Mills methodically tears up
the French underworld in his search for his kidnapped child a way not
even a Gallic Dirty Harry could. If nothing else, Taken is proof that
whatever has befallen this country, when it comes to aggressive
persuasion, one should always buy American.
Since this is a Europacorp film,
there is not one fight scene that isn’t edited in a blender. The
cinematography is so close up and choppy, it makes the action in the
recent Transporter 3 (-
which we kvetched about here for this same reason) look like
it’s on Paxil. Neeson could be standing still for all the activity of
the cameras and still look like Jet Li. In actuality, there are only a
handful of close combat scenes. Mills’ ultimate power emanates from
his ominous presence; he’s a threat before he lifts a finger. Mills’
preternaturally calm statement of intent to the thug who stole his child
while Mills could do naught but listen helplessly over the phone sends
chills down the arms. His surgeon-like assessment and dispatch of
numerous, ever-scummier bad guys is equal parts John Wayne, MacGyver and
Rambo. The deceptively laid-back Bryan Mills is a perfect fit for
Neeson, who is svelte and taut-looking under his cool 3-quarter black
leather jacket. It’s a neat transition to see the disheveled,
neutrals-clad father suit up in casual black Ninja-wear once his spy
skills are reactivated. The audience first feels for Mills in his
introduction as a doting absentee father that can’t seem to put a foot
right in his efforts to connect with his little girl. His family has
moved on without him: His only references to his daughter’s interests
are from her childhood. Mills’ bitter ex-wife flexes her power over
their child at every opportunity. Her marriage to a wealthy milquetoast
rubs Mills’ nose in his loss of their life together. Our first glimpses
of exactly what Mills’ life was come from a sad bachelors’ poker game
with his old black-ops crew and later when the opportunity to make some
quick cash playing bodyguard to a Britney-esque pop star goes
cinematically wrong. While it’s great to see Neeson attack this new
genre, viewers can’t shake the feeling of his being so much better than
his relatively low-rent surroundings. It’s Neeson’s talent and
magnetism that makes Mills more than a cardboard shell and lifts the
material beyond the cookie cutter Europacorp actioner Taken surely would
have been with another actor.
There are strange threads
throughout the film that never quite connect, like Mills’ CSI work in
the flat where his daughter was snatched, and the lack of logic in Mills
going the operation solo when the filmmakers went through the trouble of
introducing his devoted klatsch of spy buddies. I would have loved more
from the fabulous Famke Janssen than just playing the evil ex-wife. I
also would like to know if the person who wrote the character of Kim
Mills, had interacted with an actual teenager since 1985. As Mills’
imperiled daughter, an unrecognisable Maggie Grace from Lost gallumphs
around frenetically like an electrocuted pony trying to convince us that
she’s seventeen. Her Ritalin-starved behaviour and clothing choices
made me wonder if she hadn’t galloped off a short bus. Grace’s woeful
inadequacies are absorbed by the creepiness of her character’s fate in
the film, being realistically duped by the cute stranger at the airport
her first time on her own in a foreign country. After watching Taken, I
shall henceforth be fearful not only of Greeks bearing gifts, but
Albanians bearing nightclub invitations.
For Liam Neeson, Taken is a safe
bet that definitely will cross over to a much broader audience, who, if
not turning up for Neeson’s thespian cred, will eat up the smooth and
lethal Bryan Mills with a spoon. There are all the standard Europacorp
touches; the martial-arts flirtation, Parisian backdrop, gunplay and car
chases (- They must have a deal with Audi.) guaranteed to fill
the cineplex on a slow weekend. Is the mindlessly enjoyable,
popcorn-chomping Taken the best action film he could have made?
Certainly not; but in Bryan Mills, Neeson has chosen a character that
suits his broody intensity perfectly and makes for a seamless transition
for his role as heir to the throne of Harrison Ford – or at least Bruce
Willis.
~ The Lady Miz Diva
January 30th, 2009
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