It appears many of the clods writing comments about this film seem to feel that it's a guilty pleasure, that putting blinders on will keep the bad stuff out and leave one free to enjoy all the "popcorn entertainment" apparently within. Right. Forget the infantile lack of logic or intelligence in either the story or even within the structure of scenes, just enjoy the sloppiness of the action. Ignore the arch, cartoon villain played by Taylor Negron and enjoy the "surprise" that he gets taken down by Willis (foreshadowed by that brilliant comeback: "Touch me again and I'll kill you." Ooh, the chills.) Forget the hatred of females (they're strippers, adulterers or foul-mouthed kids) and revel in the manliness of Bruce Willis' worn out private detective ('Die Hard's' John McCain on barbiturates) with his grungy, homeless look (and smell?) and ceaselessly sour delivery of every ten-cent dick joke that writer Shane Black-hack could scrape up. Oh, he's a classy guy all right---a real keeper for any woman. And, of course, he can't just be a an ex-cop or lifetime private detective----nope, he has to have those previous credentials: ex-Secret Service. What, they couldn't make him ex-Delta Force/Special Forces like all our other 90's-to-present he-man action heroes? Why not try for unique and make him part of a Special Forces squad from the actual Boy Scouts? Have a flashback when he was nine-years-old and sent into 'Nam with some highly trained Eagle Scouts. Oh, but that would be absurd and comical and intrude on the intelligent and serious narrative we're being given. Just put those blinders on and enjoy the sight of a football player throwing a game by pulling out a gun and shooting opposing players during a run from scrimmage, then turning around to face the other players--who don't BACK AWAY from this gun-carrying nut but instead march forward TOWARD HIM, then watch as he kills himself after declaring, with that snappy Shane Black dialogue, "Ain't life a bitch." And don't forget the reaction shot of the team's head coach who, having witnessed three players shot and one commit suicide, looks on with only a sad shake of his head, as if this kind of thing is unfortunate but happens sometimes in really tight games. Or enjoy the logic of Wayans' character providing Halle Berry's character with a swanky place to live, but for some reason she needs to supplement his support by stripping in a crummy bar. Or how, in the final action scene, the cops somehow know to shoot down Negron but not Willis, even though they couldn't possibly know who either of them are (but we wouldn't get that jig dance from Willis that, of course, he would perform in such a situation). And, of course, the security detail around the Senator understands that Willis has a right to give the man a totally gratuitous punch in the face---that would be the reason they stand around after such a glaring felony. But Tony Scott would argue that having directed the other actors and extras to react with a shrugging attitude at all the over-the-top carnage throughout the preceding hour and a half, why bother now? In fact, Tony Scott's career is made up of films written without regard to reality or logic, but as strips of film to ram through his mix-master editing machine. He wears his badge of incoherence proudly, knowing full well that the yahoos out there love his dumb brute action flicks because they can enjoy using the dimmer switch on their brains and lower their normal 25-wattage range down to absolute zero. Ahh, the freedom to enjoy the reptile brain when the cerebral cortex has been removed.
Review of The Last Boy Scout
