Thursday, April 17, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Film: Bulletproof Monk trots out the tired old choppy-socky formula

By Anthony Allison

Early in Bulletproof Monk there's a brief, shining moment of hope that Paul Hunter's martial arts adventure might, like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, transcend the usual choppy-socky mindlessness and delve into profounder, more jaw-dropping depths.

Tibetan monk Chow Yun-Fat, whose life is dedicated to protecting an ancient scroll that confers unlimited power on its owner and (shades of Raiders of the Lost Ark) is desperately coveted by a nasty Nazi (Karel Roden), presents that familiar, age-old philosophical conundrum for his unlikely American protégé, movie projectionist and part-time pickpocket Seann William Scott, to ponder: Why do hot dogs come in packs of 10 while buns come in packs of eight?

This, along with Scott's generally cheeky presence, holds out the vague, vain hope that Ethan Reiff and Cyrus Voris' script will provide some welcome light relief amidst the usual formulaic clichés. Scott (Steve Stiffler in the American Pie flicks) does offer a modicum of humor, most notably when he tries making gravity-defying leaps or pokes fun at his venerable co-star's execrable English pronunciation.

You'd swear, from Chow's half-hearted delivery, that he's subtly suggesting it's way beneath his dignity to enunciate risible nonsense like the old saying, "Knowing others means you are wise, but knowing yourself means you are enlightened."

Then, of course, when the answer to the hot dog paradox finally comes, it's so lame and nonsensical, you realize you've been defrauded: It's definitely not worth waiting for.

Music video director Hunter is no John Woo and his cut-price, Canadian-shot, Hong Kong-style action scenes merely go through the standard, shoot-'em-up motions, with actors dodging speeding bullets in hyper-slow-mo or being yanked around on invisible wires.

There are a couple of eye-candy distractions: Jaime King as Scott's unlikely love interest and, better still, Victoria Smurfit's over-the-top turn as a blue-eyed blonde Aryan villainess.

And of course it's churlish to complain about trite dialogue, contrived setpieces and cartoonish characters in a film that's (loosely) based on a comic book. But after Crouching Tiger's Ang Lee raised the martial-arts bar, choppy-socky fans rightly expect better than this.

Chasing Papi's a cruel, racist insult

"Remember we've got to be strong--because we deserve better than this," says Roselyn Sanchez, midway through Chasing Papi. And how.

Moviegoers need considerable strength to resist the allure of the Hollywood marketing machine which is targeting this horribly unfunny sex comedy at the ever-growing Hispanic demographic and, doubtless, hoping for crossover appeal too.

Debut director Linda Mendoza should be tarred, feathered and eternally exiled from filmdom for conspiring with studio bosses to perpetrate this criminally awful film, which sets women's rights back to the bra-burning dark ages. And this while disingenuously purporting to attack the objectification of females and celebrate the "diversity of Latina women."

This predictable farce, which required four talentless hacks to write, centers on three women: straitlaced Chicago lawyer Sanchez, feisty Miami cocktail waitress Sofia Vergara and spoiled New York heiress Jaci Velasquez. All three think they've found their dream man (swarthy heartthrob Eduardo Verastegui) until they arrive simultaneously at his LA abode and discover that this duplicitous lothario has been three-timing them.

The rest of the painful plot, involving a beauty pageant, bad guys (Freddy Rodriguez and D.L. Hughley), sexy FBI agent Lisa Vidal and unflattering cameo appearances by Walter Mercado and Carlos Ponce, is too inane to relate.

But the sappy dialogue, cute animated interludes, split screens and horribly histrionic acting cannot disguise the fact that this shameful farrago is nothing short of a sexist and racist insult. And as those callous Tinseltown criminals know only too well, moviegoers will lap it up.

Latinas of the world unite! Boycott this irredeemable crap. You have nothing to lose but your stereotyped straitjackets.