Rush Hour 3 reviewed by Samuel Osborn
If I'm not mistaken, Rush Hour 3 is the final sequel in a long train of franchise continuations to be released during Summer '07. With Spiderman 3, 28 Weeks Later, Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Shrek 3, Oceans 13, Live Free or Die Hard, Fantastic Four 2, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hostel 2, Evan Almighty, and The Bourne Ultimatum on its heels, Rush Hour 3 certainly finds itself in a thick, polluted cloud of over-sized expectations and bristling fans. It's been an exhausting Summer. But luckily, unlike Spidey and Jack Sparrow, the buzz around Detective Li and Detective Carter of Rush Hour 3 hasn't risen above a gentle hum. And with the tentpole mentality out of the way (no midnight screenings, juicy on-set rumors, profit-minded blog spoilers), the lack of heady expectation surrounding this sixth trilogy capper of the season makes Rush Hour 3 all the more tolerable.
Let's say it's like a Spring Roll: a flimsy, transparent outer-layer of action that bounds the healthy innards of comedy to make a fine, single entrée of a genre. The formula has aged; in fact, the whole genre has all but died since its advent with the original Rush Hour. But call that a blessing because Rush Hour 3 is a near-exact clone of its predecessors. It wouldn't work if we could remember the films' similarities.
That thin outer-layer of action breading involves the Parisian Triads and their attempted assassination of Ambassador Han (Tzi Ma), assigned charge of Detective Li (Jackie Chan). Driven by honor and pride and whatever else Westerners perceive the Chinese to be motivated by, Detective Li sets off to hunt the Triads to their core. Loud and racially alight, Detective Carter (Chris Tucker) tags along , using Li's investigation as a vacation from his duties as a lowly Los Angeles traffic controller.
As is standard to a buddy cop picture, the unlikely pairing of Jackie Chan to Chris Tucker is the film's lifeblood. Jeff Nathanson's script does well to load Tucker's performance with fantastic one-liners tailored to his shrieking timbre with ample opportunities for Chan to swing about as a one-man circus. This is where the two belong: with Tucker as the mouthpiece and Chan as the dropkick. Watching Jackie Chan trying to maneuver a snappy one liner is like watching him try to swallow cardboard. Not funny in the right way. And though his martial arts are still more dizzying than anything a skinny white boy like myself can imagine, Chan seems to have grown past his prime. Innocent and smiling, dying to entertain, Chan was the modern-day answer to silent-film legends. He flung himself into dastardly stunts for our gosh-wow amazement and did so with a giddy, boyish pride. He still does so here, but it's apparent that he's grown past fifty. I hate to call that a criticism since fifty-three year old stuntmen don't grow on trees, but the effects are sadly noticeable.
For a standard buddy cop picture, Brett Ratner seems the right choice as a standard director. Not especially interesting in any way (except, maybe, for ruining the X-Men franchise), Ratner directs the film rather competently. He leads it along at an efficient pace and never lets creativity stand in the way of the good, expected joke. And for this Rush Hour 3 is fine. It's no better than any other franchise decency released this Summer, but because its been six years since the last Rush Hour was released, this time it feels fresh. Or at least fresh enough.
Samuel Osborn
If I'm not mistaken, Rush Hour 3 is the final sequel in a long train of franchise continuations to be released during Summer '07. With Spiderman 3, 28 Weeks Later, Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Shrek 3, Oceans 13, Live Free or Die Hard, Fantastic Four 2, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hostel 2, Evan Almighty, and The Bourne Ultimatum on its heels, Rush Hour 3 certainly finds itself in a thick, polluted cloud of over-sized expectations and bristling fans. It's been an exhausting Summer. But luckily, unlike Spidey and Jack Sparrow, the buzz around Detective Li and Detective Carter of Rush Hour 3 hasn't risen above a gentle hum. And with the tentpole mentality out of the way (no midnight screenings, juicy on-set rumors, profit-minded blog spoilers), the lack of heady expectation surrounding this sixth trilogy capper of the season makes Rush Hour 3 all the more tolerable.
Let's say it's like a Spring Roll: a flimsy, transparent outer-layer of action that bounds the healthy innards of comedy to make a fine, single entrée of a genre. The formula has aged; in fact, the whole genre has all but died since its advent with the original Rush Hour. But call that a blessing because Rush Hour 3 is a near-exact clone of its predecessors. It wouldn't work if we could remember the films' similarities.
That thin outer-layer of action breading involves the Parisian Triads and their attempted assassination of Ambassador Han (Tzi Ma), assigned charge of Detective Li (Jackie Chan). Driven by honor and pride and whatever else Westerners perceive the Chinese to be motivated by, Detective Li sets off to hunt the Triads to their core. Loud and racially alight, Detective Carter (Chris Tucker) tags along , using Li's investigation as a vacation from his duties as a lowly Los Angeles traffic controller.
As is standard to a buddy cop picture, the unlikely pairing of Jackie Chan to Chris Tucker is the film's lifeblood. Jeff Nathanson's script does well to load Tucker's performance with fantastic one-liners tailored to his shrieking timbre with ample opportunities for Chan to swing about as a one-man circus. This is where the two belong: with Tucker as the mouthpiece and Chan as the dropkick. Watching Jackie Chan trying to maneuver a snappy one liner is like watching him try to swallow cardboard. Not funny in the right way. And though his martial arts are still more dizzying than anything a skinny white boy like myself can imagine, Chan seems to have grown past his prime. Innocent and smiling, dying to entertain, Chan was the modern-day answer to silent-film legends. He flung himself into dastardly stunts for our gosh-wow amazement and did so with a giddy, boyish pride. He still does so here, but it's apparent that he's grown past fifty. I hate to call that a criticism since fifty-three year old stuntmen don't grow on trees, but the effects are sadly noticeable.
For a standard buddy cop picture, Brett Ratner seems the right choice as a standard director. Not especially interesting in any way (except, maybe, for ruining the X-Men franchise), Ratner directs the film rather competently. He leads it along at an efficient pace and never lets creativity stand in the way of the good, expected joke. And for this Rush Hour 3 is fine. It's no better than any other franchise decency released this Summer, but because its been six years since the last Rush Hour was released, this time it feels fresh. Or at least fresh enough.
Samuel Osborn