There is a scene halfway through “This Means War”, which opened in just about every theater in America last Friday, in which two characters play paint-ball. During a break in the action, one character, having trouble with her gun, inadvertently points it at one of the male character’s more sensitive physical regions.
By Noah Gittell
There is a scene halfway through “This Means War”, which opened in just about every theater in America last Friday, in which two characters play paint-ball. During a break in the action, one character, having trouble with her gun, inadvertently points it at one of the male character’s more sensitive physical regions.
At my screening, the audience saw the joke coming a mile away and offered a sincere if not completely spirited chuckle in anticipation. Seconds later, the paintball gun goes off, the male character doubles over in pain, and the audience roars with laughter. The joke is completely telegraphed, but it worked because the audience, in this case, did not want to be surprised; they wanted their expectation fulfilled. This is the essence of commercial filmmaking, which is the highest stratum “This Means War” aims for – and one it easily but unimpressively achieves.
The concept requires multiple suspensions of disbelief: Tom Hardy (“Inception”, “Warrior”) and Chris Pine (Captain Kirk in the recent “Star Trek”) play Tuck and FDR, two cunning but renegade CIA field agents, who are best friends and have never let anything come between them — until now.
In the first of many implausible but entirely predictable plot points, Tuck, apparently the only handsome British man in America who cannot get a date, signs up with an Internet dating service, where he is matched up with Lauren Scott (Reese Witherspoon), a beautiful and charmingly neurotic consumer products researcher. They hit it off. On her way home, she bumps into FDR, who charms her as well, and for the first time in her life, the exceptionally attractive Lauren is faced with the unachievable task of figuring out which gorgeous hunk she would prefer to keep seeing.
Tuck and FDR quickly discover they have both fallen for the same woman, setting off a competition in which each tries to lie and cheat their way into Lauren’s heart. They even use their available CIA resources to gather intelligence on her, making this the first movie to depend on the Patriot Act for laughs. The plot is built for mass appeal, with the aforementioned groin jokes, plus dogs, children, and grannies thrown in for good measure. There is also a subplot that barely registers regarding an Eastern European baddie coming to kill Tuck and FDR. It’s jarring how little attention is devoted to this subplot over the course of the film, especially when it is suddenly interjected into the love triangle plot at the film’s climax.
And yet amidst this banality and predictability, there is a good 30 minutes in the middle of the film in which I gave myself over to the ridiculousness and just laughed. A studio movie like this can work when it does not take itself too seriously, and “This Means War” succeeds in those moments when it stops asking us to care about the characters, none of whom are particularly sympathetic, and lets us enjoy a few silly sight gags and the escapist fantasies that the male leads create for Lauren in their attempts to woo her. Who wouldn’t want to drive a Camaro on a private racetrack on a lovely autumn day – or have a private tour of your favorite painter’s most priceless and cherished works?
The director, McG (“Charlie’s Angels”), gives the film the look of pop art, saturating every scene in bright colors and fashionable attire. The mise-en-scène tends towards the cartoonish, a wise choice for a movie whose plot strains credulity. Suspension of disbelief can be easier in a true fantasy film like “Harry Potter” or even “The Matrix”, in which reality never intrudes to break our attention.
In “This Means War”, reality is just turned up a few notches, but not enough for us to forget how ridiculous the plot is.
These characters may have all the same problems we have – but with better looks, more money, and more exciting jobs. Without any exploration of those problems, there is no opening for the audience to emotionally invest themselves. Still, at least everyone on the screen looks pretty good trying to make us care.
My Rating: Put it on your queue.