Will Smith

Bad Boys: Ride or Die

19/06/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

True confession. I’ve never watched a Bad Boys film. Until now.

And having watched one, I can never regain that feeling of being blissfully oblivious to the franchise. Here’s what happens: I find I have the opportunity to see a movie and the only one that starts at a convenient time is Bad Boys: Ride or Die. I know that the previous instalment, Bad Boys for Life, took a shitload of money at the box office, so I decide to book a ticket. After all, how bad can it be?

The answer to that is an unequivocal ‘very.’ It may have helped if I’d seen the previous instalment, but there’s not much I can do about that because nothing short of a hefty bribe will ever induce me to go back for a second helping of this nonsense. There is a plot and I will attempt to (briefly) explain it.

Mike Lowrey (Will Smith) gets married to Kelly (Vanessa Hudgens) and at the following knees-up, Mike’s sidekick, Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence), suffers a near-fatal heart attack. He manages to shrug it off (virtually overnight) and seems reinvigorated by the experience, to the extent that he starts throwing himself headlong into every situation like a teenager on steroids.

Then there’s bad news. The BB’s previous boss, Captain Howard (Joe Pantoliano), who was shot dead in the last film, is being framed by ‘The Cartel.’ They are downloading millions of dollars into his bank account. (Full disclosure: I watch the film carefully but I honestly have no idea why they are doing this). Of course, Mike and Marcus love their ex-boss and so, when they receive videos featuring him – only to be watched in the event of his death – they vow to clear his name.

In this endeavour they are aided by Mike’s illegitimate son, Armando (Jacob Scipio), who was in jail but escapes after a helicopter crash. Armando is subsequently hunted by US Marshall Judy (Rhea Seehorn), who has sworn to kill him. (Again, I guess I needed to have seen For Ever to fully appreciate why. Or, I don’t know, maybe they could have put in a few flashbacks? Just saying.)

There ensues a series of shoot-outs in a variety of locations in Florida, where gangs of bad guys are punched, shot, stabbed or blown to smithereens but, since I don’t know anything about them, I don’t care – though I am strangely bewildered by their seeming ability to reproduce mid-action so that what seems like a handful at the start winds up as a veritable army. There’s also a climactic gun battle in an abandoned theme park (of course there is) that for no apparent reason features a gigantic albino alligator, who you just know is going to eat somebody.

Every so often, Mike and Marcus break off from killing people to have an improvised comedy conversation about life, or jelly beans, or… barbecues. I’m hoping it’s improvised because if screenwriters Chris Bremner and Will Beall actually scripted this, there’s little hope left for humanity. Smith keeps his performance relatively downbeat while Laurence acts like he’s still having that heart attack, gurning and dilating his eyes every time he speaks and, at one point, even shouting ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Motherfucker!’ which again, probably refers back to… something. I am somewhat saddened to see the excellent Seehorn (of Better Call Saul) reduced to running around in a bullet proof vest and looking angry, but at least she’s given more to do than the other female characters.

Directors Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah give cinematographer Robrecht Heyvaert every opportunity to employ a whole battery of arty styles to every action sequence, so that even in the simplest punch-up it’s impossible to tell who is hitting who and why. One extended sequence plays out like a video game, with the camera freewheeling around an interior like a super-charged pinball.

The credits finally roll and I let out a long sigh of relief. Then I scuttle out, just in case there’s a Bad Boys post-credit sequence. I’ve seen enough of this franchise to last me a lifetime.

2 stars

Philip Caveney

King Richard

21/11/21

Cineworld, Edinburgh

King Richard is a fascinating biopic. The more obvious story belongs to Venus and Serena – and, of course, they’re very present here – but Reinaldo Marcus Green’s film, scripted by Zach Baylin, focuses instead on their father. It’s an astute move. We already know about Venus and Serena – their prodigious talent, their trailblazing, their gracious presence on the world stage. They’re wonderful, inspirational women. But they owe a lot of their success to their father, whose single-minded determination to raise champions has made him a controversial figure.

In King Richard, we are presented with a sympathetic view of a man who has often been depicted as overbearing and manipulative. It seems fair to assume that the man we see here, played with Oscar-worthy aplomb by Will Smith, is closer to the reality than some of the stories we have read. After all, Serena, Venus and their sister Isha are all listed as executive producers, which is about as strong as endorsement gets.

Richard Williams is a man with a plan. A serious, written-down, eighty-page plan. He might have spent his youth running from the Ku Klux Klan, being beaten up and fighting against adversity, but he wants better for his girls. Just because they live in Compton, where he and his wife, Brandy (Aunjanue Ellis), work long shifts in badly-paid jobs (she’s a nurse; he’s a security guard) and five kids share a bedroom, that’s no reason not to pursue your dreams. Richard knows that, if he wants doors to open, he’s going to have to knock loudly, because no talent scouts are coming to the local park to see eleven-year-old Venus (Saniyya Sidney) and her little sister, Serena (Demi Singleton), as they sweep the tennis courts free of leaves and then practise, practise, practise their game.

Of course, there’s not much jeopardy here, because we know how things pan out. Richard’s persistence pays off, and his daughters’ incredible talent is allowed to shine. What makes the story work is its portrayal of the battle, of how damned hard Richard has to work. I’m in awe of the courage it must have taken to boldly approach the most prestigious coaches of the tennis world and demand their attention. The Williamses don’t ‘fit in’ to the rich, white world of tennis, with its moneyed ritual of securing a certain type of coach before entering the right competitions, climbing through the ranks in the conventional way. They’re poor; they’re working class and – most obviously – they’re Black. But as soon as Paul Cohen (Tony Goldwyn), one of those prestigious coaches, sees them play, everything changes. Because Venus and Serena are spectacularly good.

Green manages to make tennis suitably cinematic, which is no mean achievement. I love watching the sport, but this isn’t the same as a match, and repeated shots of serves and volleys can quickly become dull. That doesn’t happen here, despite the two-hour-eighteen-minute running time. He never falls back on the most conventional device of a sports biopic – the ‘inspirational montage.’

Singleton and Sidney are perfectly cast. They nail the Williams sisters’ charming, sweet-natured but fiercely competitive spirits, and are a real delight to watch. And Smith’s Richard might well be generally sympathetic, but it feels plausible as well; he’s no hero or saint. Instead, he’s a bit of a windbag, a bit too self-important, heedless of his wife and as stubborn as a mule. But there’s no doubting his good heart, nor the sacrifices he makes to ensure that his daughters succeed without relinquishing their childhoods, that Venus and Serena not only have a better life than his, but pave the way for other Black girls to follow in their Reebok-prints.

4.1 stars

Susan SIngfield