Review: Man on Fire

Scott Glenn plays a burnt-out ex-CIA agent assigned by pal Joe Pesci the task of bodyguard to the 12 year-old daughter (Jade Malle- not very accomplished but unaffected) of a rich Italian businessman and his wife (played by noted Italian thesps Jonathan Pryce and Brooke Adams), who are rarely home enough to look after her. Although he has an almost zombified, uncommunicative exterior (he’s been through hell and doesn’t want to get too close to the girl), the cute kid starts to soften the hard arse somewhat, before she is kidnapped by a crim named Conti (Danny Aiello) and his cohorts. Held for a million dollars ransom, Glenn (who was wounded during the kidnapping) decides to work outside the law and become a one-man army to get her back. Lou Castel plays one of the henchmen.

 

The story goes that Tony Scott (“Top Gun”) wanted to direct this 1987 kidnap/vigilante film, but the studio didn’t think him suitable enough. He would get a chance to remake the film in 2004, and the result was a sickeningly sadistic, shamefully manipulative, and grossly over-extended dressed-up B-movie. The original is still largely the same story, and a vigilante movie at its core, but this cheapie from Élie Chouraqui (“Love Songs” with Catherine Deneuve) is thankfully not as violent, not quite as manipulative, and it’s biggest sin is being flat and uninteresting (And yet, amazingly it doesn’t come from The Cannon Group!). Yes, it’s a better film, but not enough to make me care.

 

Scott Glenn, although a very stoic and somewhat unreadable actor (although excellent in the right role), is much more convincing in the lead role than was Denzel Washington. Unlike Denzel, you believe he’s capable of being hardened and then softened by the kid, before going into revenge mode. He’s more effective in action mode than in his scenes with the kid, but still the balance is better. Denzel only got the softy part and even then relied heavily on the treacly sweetness of Dakota Fanning, which became shamefully manipulative and overdone very quickly. Glenn can be a bit of a robotic actor in the wrong role (“Urban Cowboy” springs to mind), but his almost exhausted sounding and looking quality is quite right for this part. Early on he looks practically suicidal, and gets even worse as the film goes along, and that’s kinda the point. There’s also two fine performances from a lively Joe Pesci and dangerous Danny Aiello, though the latter isn’t in the film quite enough to truly resonate as the villain. In fact, given his exit from the film, he feels more like a henchman (That’s blonde Spaghetti Western star Lou Castel as the only henchman you’ll recognise here). I will say, though, that John Turturro should’ve studied Aiello’s work here in preparation for “Miller’s Crossing” to see how to effectively convey terror at being held at gunpoint without turning into a nauseatingly overdone, simpering, wimpy mess. What has happened to Aiello these days? I haven’t seen him in ages. Maybe he co-owns Pesci’s restaurant? A shameful waste of Jonathan Pryce, and especially the talented Brooke Adams in roles that appear to have mostly been left on the cutting room floor. Certainly, their introductions into the film are clunkily handled. Not keen on the hoary old “Sunset Blvd” narration device, either, despite Glenn’s hardboiled delivery not being the worst thing in the world (He has a world-weary quality that would’ve been great for 1940s noir). It’s not something I’ve ever liked, as it seems to ruin suspense somewhat, or turns out to have lied to you.

 

The director doesn’t quite over-indulge in fancy-arse tricks like Tony Scott, but the use of slow-mo is unnecessary and pretentious, as is the pre-John Woo blowing curtains. The film is thankfully nowhere near as long as the remake, but even so, ½ an hour is way too long to wait for the kidnapping in a film that only runs about 90 minutes. Maybe that makes it too short, then. I was glad about the restraint in regards to the violence, though. I love violent movies, but the combo of sicko “Death Wish”-style vengeance and treacly sentiment in the remake was toxic to me, and so having most of it take place off-screen here made it more palatable.

 

The French-born Chouraqui co-wrote with Sergio Donati (the landmark “Once Upon a Time in the West”, and “Beyond Justice”, with a slumming Rutger Hauer), from the A.J. Quinnell novel of the same name. It’s not awful, it’s not shameful like the remake, but it’s not worth your time, either. It’s junk, but at least it’s not 145 minutes worth of junk.

 

Rating: C