Jack Burton Hates France Even More After Watching FROM PARIS WITH LOVE

Ah, l'amour.


This is Jack Burton in the Pork Chop Express, and I'm talkin' to whoever's listenin' out there.

Is anyone in this world not a Luc Besson fan? Isn’t he one of the greats, really? He’s been in pivotal roles in such films as Léon the Professional, the Fifth Element, Banlieue 13 (English title: District B-13), the Transporter series, the Taxi series, Nikita (English title: La Femme Nikita), and so on and so forth. He’s got that certain style and pizzazz that we all immediately recognize. And while there are several of his movies that I can’t stand, for the most part when his name is attached to a project, you know what you’re getting when you buy your ticket and you are usually in for a good time. I don’t know if he’s part of the upper echelon of movie makers such as Spielberg, Scorcese, Kubrick , and the like, but he can certainly be lumped in with Guillermo del Torro, John Carpenter (in his prime), the Coen brothers, and others.

That said, his latest producing and co-writing gig, From Paris with Love, is an uneven, silly, and at-times annoying film that is both immediately forgetful for its generic storyline, and memorable for its stupidity. The film’s director, Pierre Morel, directed the Transporter, Taken, and Banlieue 13—all highly enjoyable film, so imagine my shock when I watched From Paris with Love.

The story centers on James Reece (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), a wannabe CIA agent who covers as a personal aide to the US ambassador to France. He spends his time doing pointless side jobs such as swapping license plates and affixing microchips in important-people’s offices. He’s highly intelligent, methodical, and more than a little high strung. Enter Charlie Wax (John Travolta), the agency’s finest agent. He’s a loudmouthed brute who doesn’t particularly care about rules, laws, or, well, doing anything by the book. Together they somehow go from tracking down a cocaine route and beating up Asian gangsters to stopping a terrorist attack. I think. I don’t really know when I got lost in following the plot. But it’s a Luc Besson film. Who cares that much about a plot? It’s about the characters being cool, fighting badasses, and nailing hot chicks. Wow, that sounds like a Michael Bay film, but somehow Besson’s take on this formula is always much more interesting.

Anyway, so the plot was a dud. Fine. No biggie. I can live with that. But it was the characters that really killed this for me. Reece and Wax are over-the-top in their respective roles as ‘the guy who needs to loosen up’ and ‘the badass opposite of the guy who needs to loosen up.’ They were both annoying as all get-out. Wax, as a foil for Reece, had absolutely no depth as a character. He curses, he kills, he doesn’t like to think—Travolta seemed to be having a good time but my god, please tone it down a little. Rhys Meyers’ Reece was so much of a pussy that it became unbelievable. I mean who in the world stops for like two minutes at a major crime scene to wash blood off of his face and stare in the mirror? For someone who’s supposed to be smart, he’s incredibly stupid.

The action sequences are really the only thing that makes this film bearable. From the fights and gun battles to a fantastic highway chase sequence, this film keeps your adrenaline pumping and your butt glued to the seat. If you’re looking for dumb violence and fast action, catch this movie. But everything else is such a bore, including the obviously simple and predictable plot twist.

I spent:
6.00 on a ticket
4.00 on gas

I’d watch this on TV if it was on, possibly while doing some other work, but to pay for this? Nope. Maybe rent it if you want a brainless, popcorn night. Until next time, Pork Chop Express is signing off.