The Brave One
Directed by Neil Jordan
If Jodie Foster weren’t such a fiery, intensely engaging performer, nothing in her new thriller, The Brave One, would allow it to rise above the realm of mediocrity populated by direct-to-DVD genre quickies. Essentially focused on a desperate woman driven to become a modern gunslinger seeking revenge against the Central Park bandits responsible for her fiancé’s murder, The Brave One is a story about being angry at the world. Foster looks infuriated, despondent and dangerously volatile throughout 122 minutes of sulking and the occasional bloody showdown.
It’s not unanticipated that her role carries the movie; vicious durability is Foster’s trademark. She usually takes the female empowerment spot and heightens it to an emphatic level of belligerence, typically playing the most engaging character. The makeshift maternal warriors in Panic Room and Flightplan are virtually interchangeable, while the icy powerbroker in Inside Man has the same fixed persistence as Clarice Starling. When the excess plot steps aside, Foster’s struggling almost-widow endears with selfsame rage.
Foster, as ebullient radio jock Erica, enjoys a cozy Manhattan lifestyle with her seemingly flawless soon-to-be hubby David (Naveen Andrews of Lost). Their brief intimate scenes are cut short during a stroll in the park, where a mugging turns lethal as David tries to take on the role of spousal protector. The vicious beating that the couple receives from a virtually anonymous gang of hoodlums continuously haunts Erica in the wake of her fiancé’s death, leading her down an unpredictable path in search of vengeance.
The plot builds like a superhero origin tale (naturally, superstar action visionary Joel Silver serves as co-producer). A few brief love scene flashbacks punctuate Erica’s sadness and dispose of the requisite details. In short order, she’s off to the gun shop, buying a weapon in the dark corridor of a street vendor’s illicit operation, and wandering the streets in search of trouble. She finds it rather easily (almost too easily; the movie portrays New York like it’s the 1970s), encountering a convenience store shooter and subway delinquents that she deems worthy of her bullets.
Foster’s character becomes judge, jury and executioner, and the cops don’t catch on—primarily because they automatically suspect that the killer is a man. Erica’s circumstantial shootings are hard to believe—she just happens to be the only other person in the shop when a lethal psycho walks in—but glorious to behold. It’s a more credible scenario than, say, Kill Bill, and the tension stays consistently palpable.
Intrigued by institutional perspectives on justice, Erica seeks out top investigator Sean (Terrence Howard) to figure out how to skirt the law and further comprehend the limits of its application. Interviewing him for her radio show, she asks fairly basic moral and existential questions, allowing the script to create a dialogue between opposing views of right and wrong. The chemistry that blossoms between Sean and Erin becomes a central point of interest, although any hints at subtlety fall apart to make room for more action.
The Brave One is directed by Neil Jordan, but it is neither playfully stylistic like his Breakfast on Pluto nor insistently complicated like The Good Thief. Drenched in atmosphere, the movie plays out with straightforward momentum, building to an uninspired climax and justice for all.
For its simplistic exploration of varying ethical standpoints and its portrayal of New York City as a criminal war zone, The Brave One should be viewed as fantasy. Its abstract exploration of urban angst echoes Taxi Driver, but the narration is more soothing than the half-assed growl of Travis Bickle. Foster, whose voice penetrates the soundtrack as clips from Erica’s expressive “Streetwalk” show fill sporadic montages, raps with an endearing lyricism that suggests unforeseen inner peace, a possible antidote to her anger. It’s not altogether hard to look at the entire movie as a work of poetry—muddled and self-contradictory, but filled with pointed emotion. It doesn’t sell us on its portrayal of the city, but modern Woody Allen doesn’t, either: The Brave One wins out, if nothing else, because it knows the power of the gun.
Directed by Neil Jordan
If Jodie Foster weren’t such a fiery, intensely engaging performer, nothing in her new thriller, The Brave One, would allow it to rise above the realm of mediocrity populated by direct-to-DVD genre quickies. Essentially focused on a desperate woman driven to become a modern gunslinger seeking revenge against the Central Park bandits responsible for her fiancé’s murder, The Brave One is a story about being angry at the world. Foster looks infuriated, despondent and dangerously volatile throughout 122 minutes of sulking and the occasional bloody showdown.
It’s not unanticipated that her role carries the movie; vicious durability is Foster’s trademark. She usually takes the female empowerment spot and heightens it to an emphatic level of belligerence, typically playing the most engaging character. The makeshift maternal warriors in Panic Room and Flightplan are virtually interchangeable, while the icy powerbroker in Inside Man has the same fixed persistence as Clarice Starling. When the excess plot steps aside, Foster’s struggling almost-widow endears with selfsame rage.
Foster, as ebullient radio jock Erica, enjoys a cozy Manhattan lifestyle with her seemingly flawless soon-to-be hubby David (Naveen Andrews of Lost). Their brief intimate scenes are cut short during a stroll in the park, where a mugging turns lethal as David tries to take on the role of spousal protector. The vicious beating that the couple receives from a virtually anonymous gang of hoodlums continuously haunts Erica in the wake of her fiancé’s death, leading her down an unpredictable path in search of vengeance.
The plot builds like a superhero origin tale (naturally, superstar action visionary Joel Silver serves as co-producer). A few brief love scene flashbacks punctuate Erica’s sadness and dispose of the requisite details. In short order, she’s off to the gun shop, buying a weapon in the dark corridor of a street vendor’s illicit operation, and wandering the streets in search of trouble. She finds it rather easily (almost too easily; the movie portrays New York like it’s the 1970s), encountering a convenience store shooter and subway delinquents that she deems worthy of her bullets.
Foster’s character becomes judge, jury and executioner, and the cops don’t catch on—primarily because they automatically suspect that the killer is a man. Erica’s circumstantial shootings are hard to believe—she just happens to be the only other person in the shop when a lethal psycho walks in—but glorious to behold. It’s a more credible scenario than, say, Kill Bill, and the tension stays consistently palpable.
Intrigued by institutional perspectives on justice, Erica seeks out top investigator Sean (Terrence Howard) to figure out how to skirt the law and further comprehend the limits of its application. Interviewing him for her radio show, she asks fairly basic moral and existential questions, allowing the script to create a dialogue between opposing views of right and wrong. The chemistry that blossoms between Sean and Erin becomes a central point of interest, although any hints at subtlety fall apart to make room for more action.
The Brave One is directed by Neil Jordan, but it is neither playfully stylistic like his Breakfast on Pluto nor insistently complicated like The Good Thief. Drenched in atmosphere, the movie plays out with straightforward momentum, building to an uninspired climax and justice for all.
For its simplistic exploration of varying ethical standpoints and its portrayal of New York City as a criminal war zone, The Brave One should be viewed as fantasy. Its abstract exploration of urban angst echoes Taxi Driver, but the narration is more soothing than the half-assed growl of Travis Bickle. Foster, whose voice penetrates the soundtrack as clips from Erica’s expressive “Streetwalk” show fill sporadic montages, raps with an endearing lyricism that suggests unforeseen inner peace, a possible antidote to her anger. It’s not altogether hard to look at the entire movie as a work of poetry—muddled and self-contradictory, but filled with pointed emotion. It doesn’t sell us on its portrayal of the city, but modern Woody Allen doesn’t, either: The Brave One wins out, if nothing else, because it knows the power of the gun.
