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The Tuxedo
They say
that clothes make the man. If that's so, The Tuxedo
director Kevin Donovan wants to add this corollary: boobs
make the woman. At least, that's what one has to assume after
watching his utter fetishization of Jennifer Love Hewitt's
most notable attributes. She shouldn't be offended, though,
because Donovan reduces everybody to something less than actual
people, in a curious blend of Hong Kong Cinema stereotypes
with American music video making. It's watchable. At times
it's fun, but if you look too closely, you'll see that The
Tuxedo is just like its title character - a lot of flashy
technology, but at heart an empty suit.
Granted,
Jackie Chan is getting older, and probably needs a little
help. Younger guys like Jet Li have gotten away with computerized
graphics and wire work for a while. But Donovan doesn't seem
to trust that Chan can make that look good. Instead, most
of his fight scenes get the fast motion treatment. The standard
end credit outtakes come as a relief, because only there can
you be sure that Chan actually did his own fighting.
He stars
as Jimmy Tong, a cabbie right off the rack from his usual
store of character. Saddled with a colorful Jamaican sidekick
at first, the film drops the character faster than a junior
high student does Toughskins. Tong is one heck of a fast driver,
perfect for a job chauffering Clark Devlin (Jason Isaacs),
a James Bond clone stuck in New York City. The two form an
easy friendship, with Jimmy having more than a passing resemblance
to Kato. But even though an official act of congress states
that all American Jackie Chan films require an action team,
this isn't it.
When
enemy agents blow up their limousine, Devlin ends up hospitalized.
His last warning to Jimmy is to trust no one, and to put on
Devlin's special tuxedo. The tux, you see, is the true secret
of Devlin's suaveness. It bonds itself to the wearer, granting
him all sorts of special abilities, including, when necessary,
the voice of James Brown. It could happen.
Why not
alert his superiors, when at no point throughout the rest
of the movie is there ever the slightest hint of corruption
from within? You're asking the wrong question. Move along.
There's nothing to see here.
You're
probably wondering when we get to the boobs. Remember that
the team has to have one wacky member, and it just doesn't
get any wackier than a chick. Actually, for a parody of a
Bond film, Hewitt makes a surprisingly believable young scientist.
She's pretty, but not ridiculously so, and the script gives
her an almost total lack of social skills to make up for her
being smart.
In fact,
it goes so far as to make her pretty unlikable and unreasonable
in her know-it-all attitude, a hold-over bit from many Chan
films. This catches the attention of the bureau chief (Bob
Balaban, in little more than a cameo), who assigns her to
be Devlin's new partner. Don't ask why a woman this heavy
into research would not bother to find out what he looks like
ahead of time. It's important for you to believe that Jackie
Chan can pass as Jason Isaacs.
The two
team to take down drinking water magnate Diedrich Banning
(Ritchie Coster). Also by an act of congress, all world-conquering
villains must look and act feyly British but have Germanic
names. Despite Coster's utter lack of enthusiasm in the part
(bad guys should have a little more fun), this part of the
movie works. Aided by the jumpy Dr. Simms (Peter Stormare),
Banning plans to infect the world's natural water supplies
with a bacteria that actually dehydrates people. His bottled
water company will then be able to step in and make a killing.
Why, it's so crazy, it just might work.
Honestly,
it's a more sensible plan than in the last three Bond movies,
betraying a better script than the direction and editing can
handle.
Sorry.
I got away from the boobs for a moment. Anyway, everybody
at the agency sniggers and drools over Hewitt and fellow agent
Debi Mazar. Just to make sure there's equal time, the girls
take target practice shooting out the crotches of masculine
targets. And then Hewitt gets thrown into a pool, and the
action switches to slow motion. We get it, guys.
Luckily,
Chan has charm that overcomes just about anything. Even the
worst of his films have something watchable, and he is such
a superb physical comedian, not just a fighter, that you can
believe that his body has a mind of its own sewn into his
clothes. In particular, a sequence involving pants-only defense
while he struggles to get them on is a classic. The only awkward
moments come when he's forced to play to the sex jokes.
Eventually
Hewitt warms up, too, but that's because the camera really
loves her, not because the character gets much better. And
by loves, we mean in general. The camera here pretty much
just molests her, and kids, that's not love.
The film
ends with a potential future for a Devlin and Tong team, and
though The Tuxedo itself isn't that great, but in other
hands a sequel could get better. Isaacs at least deserves
a shot at playing a Bond character in which he gets to actually
be in a majority of the film. He and Chan have a chemistry
that works just as well as Wilson and Tucker and Chan.
Tally
this one up as at least a Raisinets movie. It's not quite
as filling as popcorn, but you won't be too sorry you took
a taste.
What's
It Worth? $5.50
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