Director: Tate Taylor
Runtime: 112 minutes
Sometimes book adaptations get the filmmakers they deserve, and sometimes they don't. Unfortunately, for The Girl on the Train, aka Gone Girl: Gaslighting Edition, the film adaptation has fallen into the latter camp. Roughly two years ago, David Fincher's twisty, black-hearted Gone Girl showcased a filmmaker capable of handling (and cinematically elevating) juicy source material. Train director Tate Taylor (The Help), on the other hand, can barely keep up with Hawkins' novel or Erin Cressida Wilson's adaptation. Even an ensemble of reliable actors can't give this one the consistent spark (and malicious allure) it desperately needs.
Chief among the actors trying to hold Taylor's film together is a terrifically committed Emily Blunt, as the story's less-than-reliable narrator. Blunt's Rachel used to have it all, but an ugly divorce has caused her to implode. Now, she's an unemployed alcoholic mess who's only stability in life comes from her commute to and from Manhattan each day. Left alone with her thoughts on the train, she develops an obsession with a seemingly perfect couple (Luke Evans and Hayley Bennett) living in the house next door to her ex-husband and his new wife (Justin Theroux and Rebecca Ferguson). One night, Rachel's evening commute, combined with a convenient blackout after a heavy bout of drinking, ends with her covered in blood, some of which may not be hers. And then Bennett's Megan is reported missing.
Rachel is a fantastically set-up character, and Blunt dives headfirst into the unstable messiness inherent in the role. If only Taylor were more adept at capturing and maintaining control of her performance. Despite the visible effort Blunt exerts, Taylor has a habit of filming his leading lady in ways that threaten to work against the performance. In her moments of black-out drunkness, Blunt looks less like a mentally unstable alcoholic, and more like a woman experience a light bout of demonic possession. These extreme pieces of Rachel's personality are hammered home so clumsily at the outset, that after the first 20 minutes or so, Blunt runs out of nuances to dig up.
Taylor's odd ability to direct the film on autopilot while still making the proceedings overwrought is fascinating in all the wrong ways, and that applies to the way he handles the rest of his cast. Evans, Theroux, and Edgar Ramirez (as Megan's therapist) are given little to do (even when playing out the fantasies in Rachel's head), while Laura Prepon and Allison Janney are utterly wasted in throwaway roles. Of the three central women, Bennett largely gets by unscathed, seeing as her role is basically just a rehash of Rosamund Pike's flashback scenes in Gone Girl. Also, Lisa Kudrow stops by for two (two and a half?) scenes that - a ha! - wind up being the key turning point of the mystery.
Poor Rebecca Ferguson (and her wig), on the other hand, is completely let down on all fronts. After being such a delight in last summer's Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation, Ferguson is oddly cast as the blindly loyal Emma. And though Ferguson tries her best to make the most of the part, she can't quite overcome the character's near-total uselessness, even during the story's most critical scenes. Ferguson and Blunt wind up as opposing extremes, the former wasting away with nothing to do, while the latter is forced to go full-throttle from the opening scene and never let up.
Below the line credits do little to help create a sustained sense of narrative intrigue. The visuals range from competent to ugly (when in doubt, avoid Dead Leaf Brown for your color scheme), while the great Danny Elfman turns in one of the most mechanical, anonymous scores of his career. There's some minor elegance to the film's jumbling of perspectives and timelines, but there are times when you may groan and wonder why the whole thing couldn't have been assembled more linearly.
Yet even Taylor's clammy grip on the story isn't enough to dilute a few of the film's twists and revelations. By the time Kudrow inadvertently steers the film towards its conclusion, it's hard not to be minimally engaged as the various lies and manipulations finally wash away. But a few nifty shocks and some paper-thin commentary on abusive relationships aren't enough to justify either the overheated opening or the punishingly mundane middle acts. When The Girl on the Train was initially published, it (and the instantly greenlit adaptation) was hyped as the next Gone Girl. But I get the sense that, if either David Fincher or Gillian Flynn see Taylor's film, they won't be losing any sleep.
Grade: C
Director: Justin Lin
Runtime: 130 minutes
In the decades since Jaws began the tradition of summer blockbusters, a hierarchy has evolved among the big-budget tentpole films that studios roll out between May and August. At the top, you have the likes of The Dark Knight, a dark and brooding epic that blends popcorn thrills with operatic grandeur. The next tier is the lighter, comedic action fare that still has some genuine smarts to it, like the first Iron Man and Pirates of the Caribbean films. And then there's the bottom tier of the (successful) summer blockbuster caste system: the excessive dumb fun.
It's in that bottom tier where Fast and Furious 6, the latest entry in the mega-successful Fast and Furious franchise, gleefully resides. 2011's Fast Five was a surprise return to form (and the series' first film to garner positive critical consensus) for the series. Furious 6 (its official on-screen title, for some reason) builds on Five's momentum, and takes it to ridiculous new heights. To examine the film is to find a piece of cinematic junk food. But what awfully tasty and satisfying junk food it is.
Opening roughly a year after Fast Five, 6 reintroduces DEA agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson's biceps, and presumably the rest of him), along with his new partner Riley (Gina Carano). The pair are trying - and failing - to capture criminal mastermind Shaw (Luke Evans, all cheekbones and pervy facial hair). Shaw, an ex-black ops soldier, has been stealing technology to build a super weapon worth billions of dollars. Desperate, Hobbs turns to Dom Torretto (Vin Diesel), Brian O'Connor (Paul Walker), and their crew for help. His leverage? A photo of former companion Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), who presumably died in the events of 2009's Fast and Furious.
Not content with simply illegal racing or heists, this new entry has decided to turn the insanity up to 11 by making its protagonists super spies. It's part of what allows Furious 6 to reach some thrilling and ludicrous heights. Don't worry, there's still plenty of driving, and even a race, but it's all dressed up as a lunkheaded espionage action thrill-ride. It's terrifically goofy, and terrifically entertaining. Returning director Justin Lin once again creates a constantly engaging experience out of the paper thin material. Whether you're laughing with the film, or at it, the entire piece has been designed to be nothing more than shameless entertainment. Lin and company succeed with flying colors.
I could talk about the overripe dialogue, or the ridiculous explanation for Letty's reappearance. I could mention my problems with a relatively unnecessary subplot that sends Brian undercover in a Los Angeles prison. But, with its mostly crisp action and outstanding sound work, Furious 6 moves along so briskly that the legitimate flaws in structure and execution barely have time to register. Even the nighttime driving scenes, with their murky blue/black color palettes, shine thanks to the nifty custom cars that Shaw and his crew use as they tear through the streets of London. The hand-to-hand combat is also pumped up, with several major fights resulting in some of the film's most satisfying action beats.
But, at its core, the franchise has always been about the cars. And, when it comes to gorgeous cars doing over-the-top stunt work, it's hard to top Furious 6. The film's last two set-pieces are among the most kinetic and hilariously overblown ever committed to film. One involves a tank, and the other a plane. And one climaxes with a stunt that is the biggest middle finger to physics imaginable. Both are worth the price of admission. It's simultaneously thrilling and laugh out loud funny. Diesel and Walker may be slumming it, but the supporting cast seems to be having a ball with their broad material (especially Tyrese Gibson). Johnson also continues to be a valuable new asset to the franchise, while Carano adds an extra layer of female punch (literally) by putting her mixed martial arts training to great use.
In a sense, Furious 6 is both the best Fast and Furious movie, as well as the best parody of the franchise. It is a film so willing to do anything to entertain, and it's all the more remarkable that Lin pulls it off. There's not an ounce of substance in the entire thing, but it hardly matters because, even at 130 minutes, it's such a riotously good time. Usually, when films try to function as simple dumb fun, they provide too much stupidity and not enough fun, rendering them a chore to sit through. With Fast and Furious 6, the racing-turned-racing-spy franchise has hit the absolute perfect balance. It's a bottom-tier blockbuster in the absolute best sense of the term.
Grade: B-
Sheer entertainment value: A
