I got out to see Mamet’s latest, Redbelt, which he refers to as an update of the classic fight flick, and it’s a strong homage, for better and worse. We follow a scraping-by, virtuous jujitsu master/instructor Mike Terry (the reliably great Chiwetel Ejiofor) who’s trapped–by some scheming and unreliable Hollywood types, an ambitious wife, mounting debts, and his own bullheaded determination to follow a fighter’s code–into a choice between competition or the loss of everything he holds dear. Besides Ejiofor, there’s a great cast (particularly regulars Ricky Jay and Joe Mantegna, clearly delighted to be foul-mouthed lowlifes throwing their weight around), and for about 2/3 of the picture the dialogue and plotting are knotty and delightful, allowing us plenty of time to chew on what’s happening, and to read Terry against the grain: he’s calm, determined, likable, “perfect”–and perhaps misguided, foolish, selfish, and so on. For a good long while, the idea of living by a code seems both virtue and vice, and the film buzzes on that tension.
Then, in its last third, people do a lot less talking and start throwing fists and feet instead of four-letter words and opaque aphorisms, and I don’t think that’s necessarily what I want from a Mamet film. It becomes a fight flick, not entirely predictable but tonally, thematically, and (alas) ideologically in line with the kinds of sentimental affirmations of the “loser” whose code (backed up by his real talent) is worth sticking to.
Meh. But great fun for a good portion of its running time, and so I’d suggest a rental, for sure. But a far, far, far more interesting (although admittedly very different) take on the foolish virtue of sticking to one’s idealism can be found in the ink-black Danish comedy Adam’s Apples, which follows the religious Ivan (Mads Mikkelsen), a man impervious to any disruptions in his belief in the goodness of humanity, in the inevitable success of turning the other cheek, in the power of meek acceptance and affirmation of everyone around him. Ivan bedevils one of his ex-con wards Adam (Ulrich Thomsen), a neo-Nazi who puts up a photo of Hitler in his small room, who stares dumbfounded as Ivan blithely misreads or just plain misses the malice in the actions all around him, who develops a seething passion aimed at breaking Ivan’s belief. It’d be entirely worth seeing for its casual, almost joyful misanthropy, and it is often laugh-out-loud funny. But I was even more taken by its unwillingness to affirm or flatly refute Ivan’s beliefs; rather, the film draws even more pointed laughs from the possibility that a buffoonish faith might actually have force in one’s life, even if it’s never anything but buffoonish. What starts as a vicious parody in the end seems a far more complicated, still very funny and biting investigation of faith.
Flawed, no question, but still worthwhile seeing. It starts with Chiwetel Ejiofor, who manages to radiate quiet confidence, dignity and competence. He really is a fabulous, reliable actor (Serenity, Inside Man — and just passed over for the Doctor Who role by some fucking flock of seagulls teenybopper). Most Mamet movies rely on dialogue, and some of it is very good here, but Ejiofor performs mostly in silence, with a faint smile playing on his lips.
The plot is a little conventional, and the ending comes perilously close to being uplifting, but it does rework the fight movie in interesting ways. There is a touch of ‘Ghost Dog’ to Terry’s reticence about using his martial arts skills in competition, but ‘Redbelt’ is the better movie because of the way Terry navigates the range of unpalatable options that are thrown up by the machinations of assorted loan sharks, actors, fight promoters and spouses.
There is a final fight scene, which could have been played Rocky-style, but it is sufficiently gritty, ambiguous and carefully cut that the viewer does not feel urged to cheer on the Terry character. I found this deeply satisfying.
Holy shit! There is an ‘Inside Man II’ in production, reuniting Owen, Washington and Ejiofor.