Ride Along 2
by George Wolf, MaddWolf.com
A year ago, Ride Along used the 48 Hours formula to give Kevin Hart a mainstream buddy cop vehicle. It worked, at least at the box office, so part two rewrites another Eddie Murphy classic to equally disappointing results.
Since emerging as a bumbling hero in part one, security guard Ben Barber (Hart) has become an actual Atlanta police officer. But, he’s still just a rookie beat cop, several rungs below his future brother-in-law, veteran detective James Payton (Ice Cube).
When they bust a local thug with mysterious ties to the Miami crime scene, James gets the green light to head south alone and follow some leads. Ben? No way! He’s too green and unfocused, and still has no idea what serious detective work is about! Shut up, it’s not gonna happen!
So it happens, and the pair hits South Beach, spurring Ben’s hope for a catchy nickname such as “the Brothers In Law!” In short order, the BIL team up with a Miami detective (Olivia Munn) and a computer hacker on the run (Ken Jeong) to try and prove a prominent businessman (Benjamin Bratt) is actually a violent crime lord.
As with the first go round, Ride Along 2 makes you wonder why it’s taking so long for a film to take full advantage of Kevin Hart’s comedic talent. The About Last Night reboot came close, but Hart’s was a supporting role overshadowed by the boring leads. Here, it’s the laziness of not rocking a popular boat.
Director Tim Story and screenwriters Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi all return from the original Ride Along, crafting an obvious rewrite of Beverly Hills Cop with an over-reliance on Hart making faces, Cube looking tough and Munn sporting cleavage. All three are better than this.
There are a few genuine laughs here, but they are buried under silly contrivance and the dead horse beating of James and Ben’s no-you-can’t-yes-I-can banter. We get it.
What we don’t get, again, is a project that takes full advantage of the talent involved.
13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi
by Hope Madden, MaddWolf.com
While it may be tough to separate the release of 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi from the US presidential race, there’s little question that the tale itself offers the kind of compelling material suitable for the big screen.
Director Michael Bay helms the film chronicling the disastrous consequences of understaffing the security detail surrounding an American ambassador and a secret CIA installation in one of the globe’s most unstable nations.
The trivia section for this film’s IMDB page notes that this is Michael Bay’s third film based on true events, after Pearl Harbor and Pain & Gain. That does not inspire a lot of optimism. And yet, for a Michael Bay film, 13 Hours is surprisingly restrained, respectful, and solid.
Had it been any other director, the word “restrained” would probably not appear in that sentence, but Bay dials down his own bombast to a degree that is genuinely surprising.
The screenplay, written by Chuck Hogan from Boston Globe reporter Mitchell Zuckoff’s book (co-written by surviving members of the security team), offers the point of view of the veteran security detail hired by the CIA to police and protect their compound. Staffed by retired Marines, Navy SEALs, and Army Special Forces, the security team on the ground on the 11th anniversary of the September 11th attacks had the skills, but not the number, to contend with the organized militant attack.
John Krasinski and James Badge Dale anchor the film with believable if under-dimensional performances of two of the security contractors in a by-the-numbers combat procedural.
Sidestepping politics in favor of nerve-shredding action, Bay creates set piece after explosion-and-firebombing-ready set piece. His tendencies and crutches are on full display, though the film feels relatively simply crafted when compared to his other atrocious efforts. It’s a welcome change of pace because self-congratulatory violence would undermine this truly harrowing ordeal.
Yes, CIA agents are painted as one-dimensional pencil pushers jealous of and abusive to their physically superior security guards; yes, individual character weaknesses are exaggerated; yes, tragedies and fatalities are telegraphed from the opening scene. And, yes, the story these survivors have to tell would likely have been better handled by another filmmaker.
13 Hours, though, is not a terrible film. It’s no Zero Dark Thirty, not even a Lone Survivor, and perhaps the sheer volume of blood spilled for the sake of excitement and hoo-rah is too great to consider the film deeply respectful of its subject matter. But I think it’s safe to say that Bay really tried, and, to a limited degree, he succeeded.