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| Hollywood Movie Takers Review |
The record of rappers becoming actors is decidedly mixed. Eminem drew praise for his semi-autobiographical turn in 8 Mile, while his Detroit neighbor, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, was largely panned for his work in his 2005 biopic Get Rich or Die Tryin’. Ice Cube and Ice T have both earned steady paychecks, and occasional acclaim, on the big and small screens, while the less-esteemed member of the Brothers Ice, Vanilla, never quite recovered from 1991‘s disastrous Cool as Ice.
Two of the latest hip-hoppers to attempt the leap, Chris Brown and Tip “T.I.” Harris, can both be seen in the heist thriller Takers. They also served as producers on the film, and in that regard they deserve credit for helping assemble a cast that quite effectively lowers the bar for their acting work. In an ensemble that includes the likes of Paul Walker and Hayden Christensen, they needn’t worry about issuing Oscar-worthy performances. As long as they’re semi-ambulatory, they stand a fairly good chance of keeping pace with Takers’ slow-moving herd.
The film’s plot concerns a swaggering crew of bank robbers whose sophisticated methods have enabled them to pull off a number of high-stakes heists with nary a hitch. Their strict adherence to a one-job-per-year schedule is enough to fund a luxurious lifestyle, in which they freely indulge their tastes for fancy cars, tailored suits, single-malt scotch, and big cigars (No King Cobra and Swisher Sweets for these classy gents. No siree.) All of which is fastidiously depicted by director John Luessenhop (Lockdown), whose aesthetic sensibility in Takers varies between hip-hop video and Maker’s Mark ad.
And they’re decent, civic-minded folks, too: Jake (Michael Ealy) is eager to leave the game and settle down with his fiance (Zoe Saldana), the proprietor of a trendy downtown L.A. cocktail lounge; his brother, Jesse (Brown), wants to ensure their elderly father is taken care of upon his release from prison; proper English chap Gordon (Idris Elba, the lone standout) faithfully shepherds his junkie sister through rehab; John’s (Walker) moral compass won’t allow for shooting cops or unarmed civilians; and A.J. (Christensen) is a talented pianist whose bowler hat and hoarse, hepcat diction are, I can only assume, indicative of a deep appreciation for jazz-age style.
But for all the gang’s obvious intelligence, their judgment of character is appallingly poor. When a shady former associate named Ghost (T.I. — which, after watching the film, I now realize stands for “Totally Incoherent”) comes to them with a suspiciously lucrative new opportunity he claims to have hatched during a recent jail stint, the fellas need all of a nanosecond to sign on to the dubious scheme, forsaking all of the rules that made them successful. Why they’d place their livelihoods on the line for an ex-con who can’t be bothered to raise his eyelids above half-mast or pronounce consonants appearing at the end of words like “love” (which his lazy twang renders “luh”) is beyond me, but it’s the first of several missteps that open the door for Detective Jack Welles (Matt Dillon), an old-school cop who refuses allow a crumbling marriage, chronic sleep deprivation, or established caselaw involving warrants and Miranda rights to deter him in his dogged pursuit of justice.
Takers features a smattering of the expected twists and turns, most of which are sufficiently telegraphed by Luessenhop’s direction, which downshifts to slow-motion at the advent of every action sequence, and the film’s predictable story arc. What is surprising about the film is its lack of verve, an absolute must for a heist flick and something which even the worst of the Ocean’s films boasted. For all of its bullets and bling, Takers all too often feels as lethargic as its co-producer and co-star, T.I., looks. (Although, to be fair, Dillon appears at times to be sleep-walking as well.)
Two of the latest hip-hoppers to attempt the leap, Chris Brown and Tip “T.I.” Harris, can both be seen in the heist thriller Takers. They also served as producers on the film, and in that regard they deserve credit for helping assemble a cast that quite effectively lowers the bar for their acting work. In an ensemble that includes the likes of Paul Walker and Hayden Christensen, they needn’t worry about issuing Oscar-worthy performances. As long as they’re semi-ambulatory, they stand a fairly good chance of keeping pace with Takers’ slow-moving herd.
The film’s plot concerns a swaggering crew of bank robbers whose sophisticated methods have enabled them to pull off a number of high-stakes heists with nary a hitch. Their strict adherence to a one-job-per-year schedule is enough to fund a luxurious lifestyle, in which they freely indulge their tastes for fancy cars, tailored suits, single-malt scotch, and big cigars (No King Cobra and Swisher Sweets for these classy gents. No siree.) All of which is fastidiously depicted by director John Luessenhop (Lockdown), whose aesthetic sensibility in Takers varies between hip-hop video and Maker’s Mark ad.
And they’re decent, civic-minded folks, too: Jake (Michael Ealy) is eager to leave the game and settle down with his fiance (Zoe Saldana), the proprietor of a trendy downtown L.A. cocktail lounge; his brother, Jesse (Brown), wants to ensure their elderly father is taken care of upon his release from prison; proper English chap Gordon (Idris Elba, the lone standout) faithfully shepherds his junkie sister through rehab; John’s (Walker) moral compass won’t allow for shooting cops or unarmed civilians; and A.J. (Christensen) is a talented pianist whose bowler hat and hoarse, hepcat diction are, I can only assume, indicative of a deep appreciation for jazz-age style.
But for all the gang’s obvious intelligence, their judgment of character is appallingly poor. When a shady former associate named Ghost (T.I. — which, after watching the film, I now realize stands for “Totally Incoherent”) comes to them with a suspiciously lucrative new opportunity he claims to have hatched during a recent jail stint, the fellas need all of a nanosecond to sign on to the dubious scheme, forsaking all of the rules that made them successful. Why they’d place their livelihoods on the line for an ex-con who can’t be bothered to raise his eyelids above half-mast or pronounce consonants appearing at the end of words like “love” (which his lazy twang renders “luh”) is beyond me, but it’s the first of several missteps that open the door for Detective Jack Welles (Matt Dillon), an old-school cop who refuses allow a crumbling marriage, chronic sleep deprivation, or established caselaw involving warrants and Miranda rights to deter him in his dogged pursuit of justice.
Takers features a smattering of the expected twists and turns, most of which are sufficiently telegraphed by Luessenhop’s direction, which downshifts to slow-motion at the advent of every action sequence, and the film’s predictable story arc. What is surprising about the film is its lack of verve, an absolute must for a heist flick and something which even the worst of the Ocean’s films boasted. For all of its bullets and bling, Takers all too often feels as lethargic as its co-producer and co-star, T.I., looks. (Although, to be fair, Dillon appears at times to be sleep-walking as well.)
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