The Brave One vs Shooter

More than any actress I can think of, Jodie Foster’s movies seem to belong to her first and foremost. You’re not likely to hear anyone refer to The Brave One as “the new Neil Jordan” film, nor is anyone likely to see it because Jordan directed it, even though he’s got an impressive resume. No, The Brave One, like practically everything else Foster has made since The Silence of the Lambs, is a Jodie Foster Movie. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s got such gravitas on screen, or because she’s such an icon, but something about Foster elevates the material of The Brave One, just as she did Panic Room and Flightplan, both of which inspired a series of “Hey, wait a second” questions, but none during the actual films, when Jodie Foster is in charge. She believes in her characters so intensely that when something ridiculous happens to them, we’re distracted by Foster’s process and reaction, rather than, you know, the ridiculous.

This is the kind of thing one could imagine Demi Moore doing, or maybe Halle Berry, in lesser films. And though they might do it justice, it’s unlikely that either of those actresses (or any other, save possibly Sigourney Weaver or Angela Bassett, who are each steely enough to mount a new season of 24 as a one-woman show) could make me believe that she’s believing all of the nonsense on screen in The Brave One. Seriously, The Brave One is potentially a wreck (the more I think about it, the more some of it fails to add up), but ultimately I liked it quite a bit. In fact, I find myself admiring, even loving parts of The Brave One, namely the performances of Jodie Foster and Terrance Howard, as well as the commitment of everyone involved to see The Brave One’s extreme revenge plot to its crazy/awesome/no way/uh huh/seriously?/I know! ending.

Here’s the gist: Erica Bane (sounds like some lazy screenwriter is an All My Children fan) is a radio monolguist for a public station. She has a love/hate relationship with New York (which she records with an old-school microphone dangling from her bag) and a love/love relationship with her fiancé (Naveen Andrews, in the girlfriend role. Jodie Foster movies always have a guy in the girlfriend role. Other J.F.G.F.s include Matthew McConaughey in Contact and Liam Neeson in Nell.) Erica and the fiancé live in present-day New York during the day, but at night, it’s the New York of Charles Bronson in the seventies. It’s the New York people from small towns are scared of (with good reason.) In this New York, gangs are waiting to beat you to death in Central Park. Yikes. The boyfriend is indeed beaten to death, and Erica is left bruised and comatose. She awakens weeks later, and is understandably grief-stricken, terrified and agoraphobic. Because Erica is played by Jodie Foster, she’s also intelligent, and knows she’s got to force herself back out there, to work and possibly learn to enjoy life and her city once again.

Or maybe she’s gonna get a gun and start picking off thugs one by one like a cross between Foxy Brown and the Punisher. Aw hell yeah. You know she does that, right? And that even though much of The Brave One has already been sensitive and compelling, and Jodie Foster probably earned her next Oscar nomination by the end of the first hour, she starts packing heat, and I’m not even exaggerating, guns down like ten bad guys, and is so kick-ass, an argument could be made for Foster carrying on the Alien and Die Hard franchises by herself. It’s still sensitive and compelling, in a way—Erica’s hands shake during that first kill, and she’s racked with guilt and confusion for days afterwards—but that doesn’t stop her from going all Travis Bickel, trying to clean up the city streets of all the scum and pimps and greasy character actors.

And yes, for those of you who’ve only seen the trailer: Erica gets her dog back. A woman a couple seats down clapped so hard she lost a ring.

I can hear you. You’re thinking, Are you such a movie snob that you can’t see past Jodie Foster long enough to figure out that this is just some cheesy exploitation movie? Isn’t her body count just some testosterone-fueled revenge plot that could have been accomplished safely in a few therapy sessions? Maybe. Maybe I would feel more like that if I liked Jodie Foster less, or if the cops played by Terrance Howard and Nicky Katt were less fun, or if, you know, there wasn’t a dog sitting by my feet as I type this. Or maybe, just maybe, I watched Shooter the other night, and I know how easy it is to pass crap off as important, and how unintentionally funny the results can be.

First of all…The Brave One? Shooter? When did non-Steven Seagal movies start getting Steven Seagal movie titles? Can’t you just hear the phrase “Steven Seagal is…” before either of them?

In Shooter, Mark Wahlberg is—cough—Bob Lee Swagger (I know. Just go with it.), an expert marksman whose nasty war experience sends him into hiding. After months, or maybe weeks, or it may have been years…this is a movie, so I’m not clear on how much time has passed. How long does do you think it takes Mark Wahlberg to grow half a beard and put on a wig so bulky he can barely fit a cap over it? Weeks? Months? Anyway, the government finds him. There’s a plot to kill the President, and Bob Lee is needed to figure out where the sniper would have to be to make the kill, then prevent it from happening. I know Bob Lee is a trained professional, but there’s something very Armageddon about Shooter’s plot, about having to hike into the mountains to find the one person who can work a gun properly. Ultimately, even though he thought himself through with violence, Bob Lee agrees, cuts off his ponytail, and reports for duty. Can’t you see this role played a few years back by Patrick Swayze? Or, of course, Steven Seagal, minus the ponytail cutting.

Shooter is violent, more so than The Brave One, although unlike that movie, there’s not a character to feel anything about. Bob Lee has an ally in the FBI (a young agent played by Michael Pena, who is asked by the plot to be so submissive and naïve I was embarrassed for him), and a young girlfriend I think we’re supposed to believe is his age (Kate Mara. Check imdb. I guess 30 really is the new 20, and vice versa.)

Shooter was directed by Antoine Fuqua, who certainly knows how to stage big-ass explosions, and like, cars jumping into the river and so on. His attention to detail otherwise is a bit lacking. The performances are uneven, as is the general tone of the movie. I never knew if Shooter was a thriller, an action movie, a buddy comedy or a drama. It asks Wahlberg to play Bob Lee as alternately stoic and wisecracking. I know that sort of thing is possible in certain movies, but isn’t it a bit late in the game to ask Mark Wahlberg to be Bruce Willis?

I can’t write about Shooter and not mention Danny Glover. Listen, we’re all crazy about Danny Glover, right? He’s great in everything, and he always classes up a movie whenever he steps in front of the camera. Except in Shooter. I’m not sure if Glover got new dentures, or clear braces, or maybe he burned his tongue, but something has caused this great actor to speak with a distracting lisp throughout Shooter. Was this intentional? Otherwise, a good director would have found a way to take care of it. It seems odd to pay so much attention to, say, building an elaborate Saw-ish self-murder machine for the bad guys to strap Pena into, and then ignore the detail that’s making the rest of us thuffer through Ssschhooter.

The Brave One: B

Shooter: D+