Oliver’s Smarmy: Savages

To understand the problem with Oliver Stone’s Savages one merely has to look at the ending – or rather, endings. What we are dealing with here is a cowardly, Funny Games-style gimmick that speaks to the big problem with the movie: fatal indecision.
Chronicling a ménage à trois relationship between Buddhist Ben (Aaron Johnson), former Navy SEAL John (Taylor Kitsch) and Laguna Beach babe O (Blake Lively), Stone unsubtly makes references to Butch and Sundance as he sets the male friends up for a swift fall from non-violent idealism. When the dope-dealing duo run afoul of Mexican thugs led by a Cleopatra-styled cartellista Elena (a scenery-chewing Salma Hayek), O is kidnapped and the boys pushed to their limit.
The ensuing chaos is a mess of clashing visual styles and ideology. Scenes of kneecapping and necklacing are beautifully shot, beatings and rapes are recorded on laptops or phones, bringing a shaky grittiness to the violence. For every heightened atrocity, however, there are too many random black-and-white interludes, dreamy paradisiacal fantasies and clumsy, pretentious injections of classical music.
The performances also prove mixed. While John Travolta and Benicio Del Toro bring some sinister glee to their roles as self-serving double-crossers, Kitsch and Johnson are at best serviceable, their regression to “savage” behaviour neither shocking nor well-explored.
The biggest disappointment is Lively. As narrator she brings no depth to the role. She is just a passive damsel in distress. Frustrating.