After the Sunset

Zirconia in the rough: Caper flick After the Sunset suffers from stale script, lifeless acting

By Anthony Del Valle

It's not smart that the makers of After the Sunset chose to make several mentions of To Catch a Thief in their film. Obviously, they want us to think of their movie with the same affection awarded the 1955 Alfred Hitchcock caper with Cary Grant as a retired cat burglar trying to enjoy the good life with Grace Kelley. But the problem is the obvious one: Pierce Brosnan ain't Cary Grant, the English language-challenged Salma Hayek has T&A but no other princess qualities, and director Brett Ratner sure ain't no Hitchcock. (The film's credits begin with "Rat Productions presents." Not a good omen.)

Sure, we can talk about the how tired the script is, but how much does the script really matter in jewel heist pictures? We come to watch the locations, the clothes, the stars. We want to see some oversized personalities fall in love and out and in again, so we can have the fun of imagining how swell our lives would be if we had all that money and charm.

Brosnan has the right robotic manner and sterile good looks for the James Bond pictures, but he can't actually play a real person. He doesn't have enough human parts. Hayek is an inflatable doll. All her sections have blown up fine, but they don't seem manipulated by a pumping heart. We wind up not giving a damn if this Mr. & Mrs. Zombie live happily ever after because we know plastic creatures don't experience

emotion.

It certainly doesn't help that writers Craig Rosenberg and Paul Zbyszewski haven't been able to come up with an intriguing script. The story is a rehash of all movie capers past, with no fresh vision to make things new.

Brosnan as Max and Hayek as Lola have retired to the Caribbean to grow old together under the sun. When Max learns of an especially valuable diamond sitting aboard a nearby ship, he becomes restless. Trouble is, FBI agent Stan Lloyd (Woody Harrelson) is trailing Max, 'cause he's convinced he's going to steal the loot. The two play cat and mouse, even go fishing as buddies, while Lola is left to wonder if her man is going crooked again. The big questions are, has Max really given up thievery? If not, how will he be able to steal the diamond with Stan watching his every move? And, most importantly, will all that sand and sun and water permanently wrinkle Hayek's ass?

Harrelson's an exciting actor. And there are some lines here and there that wake you up. But what I find most intriguing is the film's pandering to homophobes. We're treated to an extended kiss between two men. Just as the audience is groaning, one of the men reveals himself to be Hayek. Apparently, Ratner wants us to rest easy because two men were not really kissing.

Later, when their adventures find them in bed together, Max and Stan are awakened by law enforcement officials. Their embarrassment is fodder for a string of one-liners. (Imagine how ridiculous it would be, Ratner seems to be saying, if these two guys really were perverts!)

During a fishing trip, we're treated to the sight of the two men reluctantly rubbing oil on each other's backs. When Max's fishing pole starts to get a bite, he yells, "My pole!" and Stan replies, anxiously, "No way! I'm only doing your back!"

And during a crucial chase scene, Brosnan finds himself backstage at a ship cruise drag show. Ratner encourages us to laugh at how freakish these men are for acting effeminate.

When you're this inept, it's probably best that you try to get the audience to laugh at fags. It's always possible that the distraction will prevent them from laughing at you.