Armored
Roger Ebert has long maintained a tongue-in-cheek movie "glossary" which doesn't define terms like "best boy" or "grip" but does point out illogical or overused movie cliches that have become so standard that the casual viewer rarely questions or even notices them. After watching Armored -- a highly entertaining and surprisingly intelligent action picture -- I consulted Ebert's movie glossary and was surprised to find a glaring omission. I'll call it the "Nobody Gets Hurt" Rule, which goes something like this: In any movie in which a heist, kidnapping, or other intricately plotted crime is planned, if the promise that "nobody gets hurt" is made, it's pretty much a given that by the end of the movie, a whole helluva lot of people are going to be hurt if not outright killed.
In Armored, the promise that nobody will get hurt is made to Ty Hackett (Columbus Short), a rookie security guard for Eagle Shield Security. Eagle Shield specializes in transporting large amounts of cash to and from banks, and this movie plays like a response to anyone who has ever wondered if the armored car drivers are ever tempted to dip their hands in the pot.
No doubt about it, Hackett needs the money. He's a good man who has been hit hard by the current financial crisis, trying to raise a rebellious younger brother who's still in school. Hackett worries about having enough money to buy food, let alone pay off the two mortgages he's facing, and in his words, the letters from the bank are getting "very ugly."
His best friend is Mike Cochrane (Matt Dillon), who acts like a big brother to Hackett, and sincerely despairs when he thinks of Hackett's financial woes. Mike thinks he has the answer, inspired by a legendary armored truck robbery which Mike theorizes to be an inside job. Mike's plan is fairly detailed, but basically comes down to stealing the money during a particularly large shipment, and then blaming the money's theft on non-existent thieves. Mike recruits his charismatic but trigger-happy brother-in-law Baines (Laurence Fishburne), as well as three Eagle Shield buddies, Dobbs (Skeet Ulrich), Palmer (Amaury Nolasco), and Quinn (Jean Reno). Hackett is the final recruit, but despite the fact that he seems to need the money the most, he's got moral qualms, and reluctantly agrees to take part in the heist only when Social Services comes calling and threatens to take his brother away unless Hackett proves that he can financially provide for him.
"Nobody gets hurt?" Hackett asks. "Nobody gets hurt," Mike promises, but to quote Robert Burns, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
I won't get into just how or why they go awry for this group of men, because I don't want to spoil the fun. But without getting into plot details, I do want to make some observations about how this movie unfolds -- or rather, how it doesn't unfold. First of all, there are very few Big Wow moments. Action movies love to stuff themselves with Big Wow moments -- amazing stunts, jaw-dropping plot twists, massive explosions, etc. The scriptwriter, James V. Simpson, simply isn't interested in any of that. Nor is he interested in suspension of disbelief: in Simpson's world, people can't pound on each other without getting hurt, and gunshot wounds are bloody, messy, and far too agonizing to be shrugged off with a few well-chosen wise-cracks. In other words, if an armored truck heist really did turn out to be an inside job, it really might play out the way it does in this movie.
The third thing Simpson isn't interested in is cliche. Most action movies -- even most good action movies, heck, even most of the best action movies -- are filled to the brim with cliche. Yet after poring over Ebert's glossary of movie cliches -- which really is quite exhaustive -- the only one I could find in Armored was the Principle of Pedestrian Pathology, which reads, "Whenever a character on foot is being pursued by one in a car, the pedestrian inevitably makes the mistake of running down the middle of the street, instead of ducking down a narrow alley, into a building, behind a telephone pole, etc. All that saves such pedestrians is the fact that in such scenes the character on foot can always outrun the car."
Yes, it's a stupid thing to happen, but it happens so frequently in action films that we've come to accept it. When you watch this movie, note the twist Simpson gives to the Principle of Pedestrian Pathology. It's an applause-worthy moment.
One final thought: I'm quite sure that you're supposed to overlook this, but I couldn't help but notice that every single one of the major characters -- good guys and bad guys alike -- would have been much better off if the hero had simply cooperated with the bad guys from the beginning. Friendship could have prevailed, injuries could have been avoided, lives could have been saved, money could have been made. Everything bad that happens to anybody in this movie is less a result of the criminal plot, and more a result of the hero's insistence to do the right thing. I seriously doubt that's an intentional message of the film. But it makes you think.
In Armored, the promise that nobody will get hurt is made to Ty Hackett (Columbus Short), a rookie security guard for Eagle Shield Security. Eagle Shield specializes in transporting large amounts of cash to and from banks, and this movie plays like a response to anyone who has ever wondered if the armored car drivers are ever tempted to dip their hands in the pot.
No doubt about it, Hackett needs the money. He's a good man who has been hit hard by the current financial crisis, trying to raise a rebellious younger brother who's still in school. Hackett worries about having enough money to buy food, let alone pay off the two mortgages he's facing, and in his words, the letters from the bank are getting "very ugly."
His best friend is Mike Cochrane (Matt Dillon), who acts like a big brother to Hackett, and sincerely despairs when he thinks of Hackett's financial woes. Mike thinks he has the answer, inspired by a legendary armored truck robbery which Mike theorizes to be an inside job. Mike's plan is fairly detailed, but basically comes down to stealing the money during a particularly large shipment, and then blaming the money's theft on non-existent thieves. Mike recruits his charismatic but trigger-happy brother-in-law Baines (Laurence Fishburne), as well as three Eagle Shield buddies, Dobbs (Skeet Ulrich), Palmer (Amaury Nolasco), and Quinn (Jean Reno). Hackett is the final recruit, but despite the fact that he seems to need the money the most, he's got moral qualms, and reluctantly agrees to take part in the heist only when Social Services comes calling and threatens to take his brother away unless Hackett proves that he can financially provide for him.
"Nobody gets hurt?" Hackett asks. "Nobody gets hurt," Mike promises, but to quote Robert Burns, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
I won't get into just how or why they go awry for this group of men, because I don't want to spoil the fun. But without getting into plot details, I do want to make some observations about how this movie unfolds -- or rather, how it doesn't unfold. First of all, there are very few Big Wow moments. Action movies love to stuff themselves with Big Wow moments -- amazing stunts, jaw-dropping plot twists, massive explosions, etc. The scriptwriter, James V. Simpson, simply isn't interested in any of that. Nor is he interested in suspension of disbelief: in Simpson's world, people can't pound on each other without getting hurt, and gunshot wounds are bloody, messy, and far too agonizing to be shrugged off with a few well-chosen wise-cracks. In other words, if an armored truck heist really did turn out to be an inside job, it really might play out the way it does in this movie.
The third thing Simpson isn't interested in is cliche. Most action movies -- even most good action movies, heck, even most of the best action movies -- are filled to the brim with cliche. Yet after poring over Ebert's glossary of movie cliches -- which really is quite exhaustive -- the only one I could find in Armored was the Principle of Pedestrian Pathology, which reads, "Whenever a character on foot is being pursued by one in a car, the pedestrian inevitably makes the mistake of running down the middle of the street, instead of ducking down a narrow alley, into a building, behind a telephone pole, etc. All that saves such pedestrians is the fact that in such scenes the character on foot can always outrun the car."
Yes, it's a stupid thing to happen, but it happens so frequently in action films that we've come to accept it. When you watch this movie, note the twist Simpson gives to the Principle of Pedestrian Pathology. It's an applause-worthy moment.
One final thought: I'm quite sure that you're supposed to overlook this, but I couldn't help but notice that every single one of the major characters -- good guys and bad guys alike -- would have been much better off if the hero had simply cooperated with the bad guys from the beginning. Friendship could have prevailed, injuries could have been avoided, lives could have been saved, money could have been made. Everything bad that happens to anybody in this movie is less a result of the criminal plot, and more a result of the hero's insistence to do the right thing. I seriously doubt that's an intentional message of the film. But it makes you think.
posted by Movie Man at
1:45 AM
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