|
ROAD
KILL : Robert Harmon's HIGHWAYMEN
Psychopathic
killer Fargo (Colm Feore) gets his kicks by zooming around the backroads
of the USA and knocking down defenceless victims with his pepper-green
1972 Cadillac Eldorado. When he brutally slays the wife of young medic
Rennie Cray (Jim Caviezel), the grief-stricken widower swears vengeance
at any cost. Months later Cray gains retribution when he smashes into
Fargo's car, leaving the driver half-blind and wheelchair-bound - and
Cray facing a prison spell. On his release, Cray discovers that Fargo's
injuries have only served to deepen his blood-lust - and when the "rebuilt"
maniac goes after traumatised accident-survivor Molly (Rhona Mitra), Cray
spots his chance for ultimate revenge...
Director Harmon
had his one and only hit back in 1986 with The Hitcher, and Highwaymen
shows why his career so quickly hit the skids. It's a low-budget,
low-octane B-movie which would normally find itself in the fast lane to
home-video, but has fluked a brief big-screen spin in certain areas -
including the UK and the southwestern US - thanks to Caviezel's box-office
success in (and as) Mel Gibson's Jesus
H Christ.
Most UK publicity
materials, however, have downplayed Caviezel's involvement: the only actor
on the main poster is Mitra (British born and bred, but impeccably Yank-accented
here) as Molly, under threat from Fargo's Cadillac. And the strap-line
heralds the movie as being "from the director of The Hitcher."
On closer inspection, this isn't such a great come-on: Harmon's next two
credits were the Travolta flop Eyes of an Angel (1991), and
Nowhere to Run (1993), which united star Jean-Claude Van Damme
and writer Joe Eszterhas to unremarkable effect, while more recently he
was responsible for ho-hum Wes Craven 'presentation' They
(2002).
On the basis
of subsequent 'form', it's wiser to credit The Hitcher's merit
to screenwriter Eric Red, who followed up with the fine Cohen and Tate
(1989), which he directed himself, plus Kathryn Bigelow's career-making
Near Dark (1987) and Blue Steel (1990). Watching
Highwaymen, some viewers may wonder why Harmon couldn't have called
upon the services of Red - the
answer is tragic, and, given the subject-matter of The Hitcher
and Highwaymen, horribly ironic.
Instead Harmon
had to rely on scripwriting duo Craig Mitchell and Hans Bauer: Mitchell
directed 1983's What's Up, Hideous Sun Demon which, as its irresistible
title suggests, took the comedy-commentary technique pioneered by Woody
Allen in What's Up Tiger Lily? (1966) and applied it to the sci-fi
B-movie The Hideous Sun Demon (1959) - with contributions from
an uncredited Jay Leno, no less. Bauer, meanwhile, hit the jackpot with
surprise smash Anaconda (1997), then showed the extent of his range
and ambition by following up with Komodo (1999), before running
into a commercial brick wall with megaflop Titan AE (2000).
Highwaymen
does see Harmon reunited with one key Hitcher player: composer
Mark Isham, who is normally to be found on rather more deluxe Hollywood
projects. Perhaps the pair were inspired to work together again after
contributing interviews to documentary How
Do These Movies Get Made? : The Hitcher which appeared as an extra
on the film's 2003 DVD release. And perhaps this is also how Hans Bauer
got involved: the documentary was made by one "Jorg Bauer".
In any case,
Isham's contributions are one of the very few aspects of interest in Highwaymen:
his score is compellingly intense, and could well find an enduring after-life
as a 'temp track' used by other composers writing music for movies. Watching
the whole of Highwaymen's end-credit roll allows the viewer to
enjoy Isham's score without the distraction of the script's lousy dialogue.
And these credits also name (or do they?) the person responsible for the
film's eyecatching opening titles: "Jane Doe", who also created
the film's nifty flashback sequences - but googling "Jane Doe"
proves fruitless. The credits are strongly reminiscent of the work of
the field's acknowledged leader - could Kyle Cooper have asked for his
name to be taken off Highwaymen, just as angry directors hide behind
the now-infamous 'Alan Smithee' nom-d'ecran?
It's possible
- but this film isn't really such a disaster, and not markedly
worse than the inexplicably over-praised Dawn
of the Dead remake, which went so rapidly downhill after Cooper's
outstanding titles. Highwaymen does counts as a frustratingly missed
opportunity, however: the enticingly brief running-time promise a welcome
throwback to an earlier era of no-nonsense B-movie, full of souped-up,
pedal-to-the-metal thrills. This impression is bolstered by Joe Leydon's
breathless Variety review: "Lean, mean and stripped for speed,
Highwaymen fires on all cylinders as an edgy and unnerving road-kill
thriller... clammy terror... pared-to-essentials script... spins a gripping
tale of blood and vengeance... 30 years ago, a well-crafted genre pic
like [this] might have become an enduringly popular drive-in staple."
In many ways,
Leydon's review is more entertaining and exciting than the film itself
- Highwaymen would probably have been 'hooted off' at most US drive-ins,
with no shortage of walk-outs, or perhaps "drive-aways". Because,
after an exciting early scene in which Molly and pal Alex (Andrea Roth)
encounter Fargo in a claustrophobic road-tunnel, Harmon and company are
far too content to fritter away their precious time tootling along in
low gear. Idling in the slow lane, we're given plenty of time to admire
the scenery - as atmospherically captured by cinematographer Rene Ohashi
(who worked on They, as did editor Chris Peppe).
But Ohashi's
slick approach pays drastically fewer dividends whenever we're indoors
- and there are far too many such talk-heavy scenes, starkly exposing
the limitations of Bauer and Mitchell's dialogue and characterisation.
Renny and Molly are, of course, traumatised by their various tragedies
- but the actors' torpid numbness negates any real chemistry between the
pair, or, come to that, between the couple and the viewer. There's an
especially underwhelming scene in which we're solemnly informed about
the number of Americans injured in car accidents - 350 per hour, totting
up to millions per year - which points to Bauer and Mitchell's "inspiration"
for this project. But while the shocking number of auto-smashes does mean
nearly all potential viewers will have been either injured themselves
or known a friend or relative so afflicted, it seems somewhat tasteless
and opportunistic to expect them to stump up their cash to see the phenomenon
(and its dire consequences) played out on the big screen.
Not that this
is an especially 'big' production: budgetary limitations are evident throughout
- the faceless locales were filmed in rural Canada - and if anything the
film could have done with several more slam-bang action pieces to keep
the pace from dragging and, more importantly, to prevent us from dwelling
on the mounting ludicrousness of the plot. As it is, the semi-mechanised
Fargo's machinations are simply too daft to be especially scary or suspenseful.
(British audiences may struggle to suppress giggles at memories of BBC
sitcom Allo Allo evoked when Renny exclaims : "Listen
very carefully - I only have time to say this once.")
Frankie Faison
keeps popping up in the thankless role of malcontent accident-investigator
cop Macklin - he's often deployed for (ineffectual) comic relief, including
a limp last line at Fargo's expense. The villain's injuries give Feore
even less chance to shine, meanwhile, and his character - most of whose
lines are transmitted by CB - often comes across as a less-threatening
variation on the (wisely unseen) 'Rusty Nail' villain from John Dahl's
Joy Ride (2001), which
really was a B-movie of the kind they supposedly don't make any
more.
11th July,
2004
by Neil
Young
-
|
