#42 Do it once and do it right. Or twice and pretty well.
01/12/20 21:37
OK, I know I usually stick to small-screen reviews, but cut me some slack this week, because I stumbled across the Jack Reacher films and have Some Things to Say.
Obviously, I never bothered when they came out, because like every other JR fan on the planet, I was busy being dismayed and enraged by the casting of Tom Cruise as Lee Child’s brick-shithouse creation. It was a travesty opting for a built-up-shoed superstar when they could have hunted down a towering unknown who actually resembled the protagonist and had the potential to do him justice.
Tom Cruise does Tom Cruise; he does it very well, but Reacher deserves more. Aside from being able to stroll under a limbo stick, the world’s most famous scientologist is too intense and restless to play a man whose chief characteristic is his amiably cold-blooded composure. Reacher doesn’t really feel normal emotions like anger or fear or affection, unless it’s centred around his next cup of coffee. Although he tends to have sex with every woman he meets (apart from Alice who’s gay and Neagley who doesn’t like to be touched), you don’t get the impression he slavers for it when he’s going through a dry spell. He’s just not that bothered, about anything. He could be strangling someone, very slowly, and show the same level of excitement as he does tucking into a stack of pancakes. I think that’s principally what draws me to Reacher – the not-caring. I’m envious of his even keel. Imagine that level of not-giving-a-fuck. What a hero.
Going into this viewing, I didn’t have high hopes, but we couldn’t be arsed to trawl the Netflix menu for that long, and felt like some take-your-brain-out entertainment, so were prepared to overlook (let’s face it, we all can) Cruise’s limited stature and overblown smoulder. Well, I’m delighted to tell you that we were very pleasantly surprised. Here’s why:
First, forget they’re ‘Reacher’ films. As soon as you let go of the idea that your favourite musclebound monosyllabic machoman is going to be brought to life, then you can move down the red carpet and shake hands with these solid thrillers, recognising them for exactly what they are: Tom Cruise vehicles. And truly, I could watch a Cruise film every day – maybe there’s something in that, like NaNoWriMo but with movies: CruNoVuMo. You might not end up with 50K words of a novel, but you’ll have an easy familiarity with some classic action capers.
There were only two JR movies made, because the critical response was so lacklustre that the producers ran out of steam. But I think reviewers were unnecessarily harsh, as these films have much to recommend them. They chose two of the best books from the series – One Shot, a personal favourite, and Never Go Back, which dangles a tremendously juicy paternity case and then snatches it cruelly away. Both are written in the third person, thank Christ (or rather, Child), because I do not approve of Reacher in the first. He shouldn’t be letting us in like that.
One Shot romps along nicely, an impressively twisty sniper killing riddle culminating in a lovely shootout that contains all the signature Reacher manoeuvres, including his own direct form of judicature, aka a bullet in the head. Never mind the long arm of the law; you need the even longer arm of Jack No-Name Reacher. One of the peculiar and rather magnificent things about these stories is the lack of jeopardy. You don’t need to worry if Reacher is going to get the bad guys; he is. He will grind them to dust, no question, and I relish that guaranteed retribution in a real world of uncertainty, where the villains seem to get away scot-free.
The first film is good, and the second is even better. That’s mainly because there’s an excellent sidekick, Major Susan Turner, a military police officer who is to fighting what Jack Reacher is to fighting. She sidekicks some serious ass, and it’s mighty fine to see her choking baddies with firehoses and dispatching would-be assassins with the same brutal precision as her male partner. Sue is not the type to stand around whimpering while the men go at it, which this feminist found immensely satisfying as she reclined on her sofa quaffing pinot grigio and trying to persuade her husband to rub her feet.
There’s a splendid parkour roof chase at the end, and who cares if you’ve seen this kind of thing play out alongside a street parade a million times. Everyone knows that street parades make great killer hunting grounds! So suck it up, and just enjoy TC doing his funny arm-piston run, safe in the knowledge that he will get the upper hand eventually, just like the character he’s supposed to be playing.
In conclusion, if you’re looking for a fun couple of hours and you’ve got nothing better to do, then give Tom a try, and forgive him for metaphorically headbutting your favourite literary lone ranger. Because, really, would Reacher care about any of this? What would he say if we told him that he was being played in a multi-million-dollar movie franchise by a religious nutjob who’s half his height?
Of course, Reacher would say nothing. Frankly, my dear, he wouldn’t give a damn.
Obviously, I never bothered when they came out, because like every other JR fan on the planet, I was busy being dismayed and enraged by the casting of Tom Cruise as Lee Child’s brick-shithouse creation. It was a travesty opting for a built-up-shoed superstar when they could have hunted down a towering unknown who actually resembled the protagonist and had the potential to do him justice.
Tom Cruise does Tom Cruise; he does it very well, but Reacher deserves more. Aside from being able to stroll under a limbo stick, the world’s most famous scientologist is too intense and restless to play a man whose chief characteristic is his amiably cold-blooded composure. Reacher doesn’t really feel normal emotions like anger or fear or affection, unless it’s centred around his next cup of coffee. Although he tends to have sex with every woman he meets (apart from Alice who’s gay and Neagley who doesn’t like to be touched), you don’t get the impression he slavers for it when he’s going through a dry spell. He’s just not that bothered, about anything. He could be strangling someone, very slowly, and show the same level of excitement as he does tucking into a stack of pancakes. I think that’s principally what draws me to Reacher – the not-caring. I’m envious of his even keel. Imagine that level of not-giving-a-fuck. What a hero.
Going into this viewing, I didn’t have high hopes, but we couldn’t be arsed to trawl the Netflix menu for that long, and felt like some take-your-brain-out entertainment, so were prepared to overlook (let’s face it, we all can) Cruise’s limited stature and overblown smoulder. Well, I’m delighted to tell you that we were very pleasantly surprised. Here’s why:
First, forget they’re ‘Reacher’ films. As soon as you let go of the idea that your favourite musclebound monosyllabic machoman is going to be brought to life, then you can move down the red carpet and shake hands with these solid thrillers, recognising them for exactly what they are: Tom Cruise vehicles. And truly, I could watch a Cruise film every day – maybe there’s something in that, like NaNoWriMo but with movies: CruNoVuMo. You might not end up with 50K words of a novel, but you’ll have an easy familiarity with some classic action capers.
There were only two JR movies made, because the critical response was so lacklustre that the producers ran out of steam. But I think reviewers were unnecessarily harsh, as these films have much to recommend them. They chose two of the best books from the series – One Shot, a personal favourite, and Never Go Back, which dangles a tremendously juicy paternity case and then snatches it cruelly away. Both are written in the third person, thank Christ (or rather, Child), because I do not approve of Reacher in the first. He shouldn’t be letting us in like that.
One Shot romps along nicely, an impressively twisty sniper killing riddle culminating in a lovely shootout that contains all the signature Reacher manoeuvres, including his own direct form of judicature, aka a bullet in the head. Never mind the long arm of the law; you need the even longer arm of Jack No-Name Reacher. One of the peculiar and rather magnificent things about these stories is the lack of jeopardy. You don’t need to worry if Reacher is going to get the bad guys; he is. He will grind them to dust, no question, and I relish that guaranteed retribution in a real world of uncertainty, where the villains seem to get away scot-free.
The first film is good, and the second is even better. That’s mainly because there’s an excellent sidekick, Major Susan Turner, a military police officer who is to fighting what Jack Reacher is to fighting. She sidekicks some serious ass, and it’s mighty fine to see her choking baddies with firehoses and dispatching would-be assassins with the same brutal precision as her male partner. Sue is not the type to stand around whimpering while the men go at it, which this feminist found immensely satisfying as she reclined on her sofa quaffing pinot grigio and trying to persuade her husband to rub her feet.
There’s a splendid parkour roof chase at the end, and who cares if you’ve seen this kind of thing play out alongside a street parade a million times. Everyone knows that street parades make great killer hunting grounds! So suck it up, and just enjoy TC doing his funny arm-piston run, safe in the knowledge that he will get the upper hand eventually, just like the character he’s supposed to be playing.
In conclusion, if you’re looking for a fun couple of hours and you’ve got nothing better to do, then give Tom a try, and forgive him for metaphorically headbutting your favourite literary lone ranger. Because, really, would Reacher care about any of this? What would he say if we told him that he was being played in a multi-million-dollar movie franchise by a religious nutjob who’s half his height?
Of course, Reacher would say nothing. Frankly, my dear, he wouldn’t give a damn.
- Jack Reacher and Jack Reacher: Never Go Back - Netflix
