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Review Uploaded
06/27/03

1 hr. 51 mins.
Starring: Harrison Ford, Josh Hartnett, Lena Olin, Bruce Greenwood, Isaiah Washington, Dwight Yoakam, Lolita Davidovich, Martin Landau, Master P, Kurupt, Lou Diamond Phillips, Eric Idle
Directed by: Ron Shelton

Rating: ** ½ stars (out of 4 stars)

Well, here we go again…another frantic buddy-buddy action formula. Let’s see now…two mismatched partners battling the criminal element. Check. Exaggerated gunplay and inventive car crashes in motion. Double check. Witty barbs being uttered while in the heat of the colorful excitement. Check again. Bottom line is this: get ready to be force-fed a tag team cop flick that sizzles in conventional fashion. But wait a second…there may be something unique to this hyperactive quirky shoot ‘em up showcase after all. Just maybe.

In director Ron Shelton’s (Dark Blue) rambunctious slick actioner Hollywood Homicide, the concept is predictably borrowed from the same old foundation yet there’s something refreshing about the pairing of Hollywood hotshots that represent both old and new school. Irresistible sixty-something Harrison Ford meets twenty-something heartthrob Josh Hartnett in Shelton’s off-kilter cop caper. Rather than going for the standard racial clash as its comedic crutch, Shelton interestingly focuses on the age factor where wily veteran Ford partners up with giddy newcomer Hartnett in a rollicking vehicle that surprisingly provides some fresh laughs. Sure, the narrative engages in the usual clichéd and convoluted calisthenics where overactive miscreants from both sides of the fence take turns topping one another in the name of mischievousness. But Shelton, who also co-wrote the script Robert Souza, is savvy enough to let the usually stiff Ford loosen up a bit and poke fun of his patriotic demeanor in a noisy satire looking to lasso the redundant appeal of roguish popcorn police thrillers. And Hartnett rises to the occasion and compliments Ford as the duo collaborate on a hot-button police procedure.

LAPD homicide detective Joe Gavilan (Ford) and his rookie cohort K.C. Calden (Hartnett) are stuck investigating the nightclub slaying of a couple of rap artists. It’s not long before the perpetrators of the aforementioned murders are found dead themselves courtesy of a horrendous torching. And even with the stress of solving this expansive pending case, our badge-carrying buddies are tied up with other concerns. Joe finds himself trying to duck and dodge an irksome internal affairs inquiry. For years, the weary cop has maintained a sideline business as a real estate agent in an effort to boost his income and overall prospects. And K.C. , who sees himself as an up and coming thespian, is pretty much immersed in his preparation for a stage production. Suffice to say, Joe and K.C. are very much distracted by their personal agendas not to mention the craziness that surrounds them in the tacky world of irreverent Tinseltown. Hence, will the unsolved baffling homicides distract what’s really important to the cavalier cops or will they remain focused enough to give a rat’s rear end about the police duty they’ve sworn to uphold and protect?

Hollywood Homicide should probably plead the Fifth Amendment in reference to answering the guilty charges of swiping the oh-so-familiar cache of buddy crime propaganda found in so many faceless law enforcement dramas based on this genre. Standing by are the usual reliable tools of featuring show-offy shootouts, perturbed superior officers and their disillusioned charges, preposterous rule-breaking violations, action-packed scenes that border on the spectacular and the silliness, anti-heroes being used as mechanical pawns within an exasperating and imperfect justice system, etc. Shelton, better known for his giddy sports-related fare ranging from 1988’s Bull Durham to 2000’s Play it to the Bone, shows a wacky willingness to weave in and out of turning his flippant fable into a spoof that tries to juggle its seedy overtones. Unfortunately, Shelton is somewhat off the mark in this respect as the unevenness of the cynical comedy occasionally struggles to tie in with the main theme of unsatisfied crimefighters not emotionally bowled over completely by their obligation to rescue a plagued society at any cost.

If anything, Shelton does conjure up wickedly wry performances from Ford and Hartnett as the law enforcing mavericks that would rather shoot the breeze with other interests than shoot bullets in the current malaise they hopelessly seem entrapped by as stagnant homicide detectives. As the tired Det. Joe Gavilan, Ford competently portrays the haggard officer as someone who has seen his better days gone by and frankly doesn’t care anymore. He’s exhausted by the run-of-the-mill wind and grind that continues to bite the last bit of vitality out of his aging bones. Better yet, Ford is uniquely amusing as he gets to play against the grain of his usual stoic and heroic makeup. It’s quite interesting to see Gavilan (and in many ways Ford himself) surrender his glorified good guy image in favor of a likable flawed and flustered man just trying to get by with each passing nonsensical day.

Hartnett’s K.C. Calden is a fine example of what Ford’s Joe Gavilan may have been like some three decades earlier-ambitious, idealistic, dedicated, energetic, etc. The common goal that K.C. nurses much like Joe is that he’d be content in being something else beyond a pressured cop working the disagreeable streets of Make Believe Land. K.C.’s passion lies in the profession of acting. After all, that’s where his true heart belongs. Instead of visiting the Hollywood morgue, K.C. would prefer attending Hollywood premieres where he could acknowledge cheering live bodies as opposed to drawing chalk around dead ones. K.C. is young and vibrant and has a choice to pursue his dream career unlike Joe who managed the get “stuck” in the criminal-catching racket all these years.

The material that stars Ford and Hartnett are asked to liven up fluctuates between being flat and frothy. It’s that kind of indecisiveness that renders Hollywood Homicide as yet another generic actioner with inconsistent results. Smirking bits about the acting bug concerning an upcoming A Street Car Named Desire revival and other references to the perks associated with Hollywood’s notable expectations can be digested as hits or misses depending on your tolerance for such lukewarm gags. Whatever the reservations are involving Shelton’s offbeat cop caper, the chaotic outline is acceptable in that Ford and Hartnett welcome a distinctively indifferent kind of swagger thanks to their brand of hysteria that they bring to an otherwise tiresome partners-in-crime premise. It would be appropriate to anoint HH another Lethal Weapon wannabe but only without the gregarious inspired insanity and infectious give-and-take comradeship that uncontrollable “youngster” Mel Gibson and refined “oldster” Danny Glover effortlessly demonstrated.

Sure, in this instance murder can be fun. If the frolicking but artificially conceived Hollywood Homicide took it to the edge a few more notches and realized its undercooked sardonic synergy, the mockery of murder and Hollywood’s synthetic hubris could have been grander in concept.