But seriously kids, be careful out there. We are in the midst of an epidemic, one which is dangerous and all too real. Third Act Fatigue Syndrome, or Michael Bay Disease as it is commonly and inaccurately known, currently affects two out of every three Hollywood summer products, often with debilitating effects. Can you recall anything about the final section of Fast And Furious? How about the entire last hour of Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen?
This increasingly prevalent condition can destabilise otherwise healthful pictures, but it’s not enough to fell a film by our favourite not-so-guilty pleasure, Mr. Tony Scott. Sure, the final act seems to drag in comparison to what has gone before, but this remake of Joseph Sargent’s 1974 runaway heist flick – the filmmakers say they’re re-adapting the original Morton Freedgood novel but we’ve all heard that one before – is an otherwise banging, nay splendid little picture.
A bearded John Travolta does the honours as the nefarious criminal mastermind who hijacks the titular subway car and threatens to execute all passengers unless a gargantuan ransom is paid within the hour. Denzel Washington, that most luminous of movie stars, essays the Johnny Everyman who winds in the wrong place at the wrong time, this providing the fly for Travolta’s ointment.
Mr. Scott, displaying considerably more visual restraint than he has done, belts through most of the film with aplomb. The players are uniformly excellent and invariably well used; it’s hard not to like a movie featuring James Gandolfini growling at a TV crew as the mayor of New York: “I left my Rudy Giuliani suit at home.”
Still, some small part of us wanted Walter Matthau back. No offence, Denzel…