Miami Vice

It's never a good sign if you can spot a plothole from a trailer, I thought as I saw a trailer for Snakes on a Plane. Surely, you'd just fly to lower altitude, blow open a door and turn off the cabin heating. The cold blooded snakes would freeze to death, I thought, before adding 'And don't call me Shirley.'

I feel a blog entry coming....

So, on to the film. I wasn't sure what it was about this film, but right from the start, it just felt hincky. It wasn't until the end credits rolled that I realised there weren't any opening credits. None at all! Which was a bit bizarre.

One of my friends had already commented that Crockett and Tubbs¹ don't talk to each other much, because they are good friends who've been together for years and they don't have to talk all the time. It's not a buddy movie, and I appreciate that. Michael Mann is doing something that's breaking away from the mainstream. What dialogue there is tends to be full of slang and acronyms which you either get or you don't. Perhaps if I'd seen this when it was a TV series, I would understand it better. But I was too ickle to watch when it was on TV and if the TV series had as much shooting, swearing and shagging, I'd have ended up like Ainsley from my school, and that ain't pretty².

And this leads it to the main problem. I spent so much time trying to understand what Crockett and Tubbs were saying, that I didn't really feel anything for any of the characters. I'm a guy, I can't think and feel at the same time³. My brain doesn't work like that.

The film itself is fantastically shot, a real eye to detail from the director there. One thing that had been mentioned to me prior to seeing this is the attempt to capture the real chaos of a gun fight, and I think Mann succeeds in this. Everyone in the audience winced during one or two moments in that fight.

But in many ways, I felt the same way leaving this film, as I did with Lost in Translation. A beautiful film, but no discernible plot. The only difference was Translation made me feel just as claustrophobic as the characters, which is why it ranks highly with me.

There were two gratuitous male butt shots, which I frankly didn't need to see, but these are compensated for with gratuitous female nudity, which was embarrassing because I was with a friend.

And I'm worried that there will be a new category at the next Oscars. Best Supporting Mullet. First Tom Hanks, now Colin Farrell. I swear, if the mullet makes a come back, I'm going to shoot myself. Some things deserve to die, and they're all from the eighties⁴.

Score: C+

OQ: There really aren't any, it's not that sort of film.

¹Anyone else getting a mental image of that woman from the League of Gentlemen? 'Are you local?'
² A short, spotty, sex obsessed ten year old boy. And he was ginger. Every time he opened his mouth, out poured a stream of the most offensive, depraved language you've ever heard. Sort of like Tourettes, except it was ALL THE TIME.
³ Similarly ladies, never try talking to your man when he's, how can I put this?....On the job. Because no man has enough blood to run both organs at the same time.
⁴Especially Timmy Mallet.