The A-Team

| 13 Aug 2014 | 05:25

    The A-Team

    Directed by Joe Carnahan

    Runtime: 117 min.

    "Well that’s awesome!" art-movie regular Patrick Wilson says after a violent climax in The A-Team. "That looks just like Call of Duty, doesn’t it?" Wilson ignores that he’s in a 1980s TV-series reboot and name-checks a video game instead because this movie version of The A-Team goes both ways. He seems tickled about how Hollywood has shrewdly, cynically—and vividly—revived the old TV brand.

    Wilson can easily go back to the pretentious crap of Little Children because, like his co-stars Liam Neeson (as Hannibal), Bradley Cooper (as Face), Sharlto Copley (as Murdoch) and Quinton "Rampage" Jackson (as B.A. Baracas), he’s following the same 21st-century template as Robert Downey Jr. and the pseudo-serious actors making a payday in the Iron Man movies. Wilson admits the joke we’re all in on: that Hollywood reboots are simply mercenary.

    The A-Team doesn’t look like any participants thought they were making art: The Call of Duty reference is hilarious since this isn’t even a streamlined video game. It’s opportunism—the dumb, macho, adolescent, glass-smashingest movie of the year—because all that noise, destruction and dynamism typifies the decline of popular entertainment. Multiple montages where scale-model planning sessions are intercut with flash-forward live-action enactments simply waste technique. The sick joke of anybody expecting quality from The A-Team (or [Sex and the City 2]) only proves how TV habits have coarsened movie expectations.

    As a moviegoer, not a TV geek, I have no stake in whether Jackson is as amusing as Mr. T, Cooper’s perma-smirk is sexier than Dirk Benedict, or Neeson’s solemnity is more better than George Peppard’s suave gravity. Instead, I note that director Joe Carnahan seems to have found his metier in TV junk. With the dazzling assistance of cinematographer Mauro Fiore (Avatar), The A-Team is absolutely fun-looking. The climactic avalanche of multi-color freight containers is an abstract delight: from above it suggests a pile of orange, red, yellow, blue, green, purple pick-up sticks.

    The A-Team stays true to its TV origins when the rogue team of alpha-male heroes leave their military duties in the Middle East to combat nefarious contractors (led by green-eyed, balding co-screenwriter Brian Bloom) and government spies—from Wilson on, all of them are named Lynch and personified full-circle by TV’s Jon Hamm. It doesn’t try for ingenuity like [Micmacs] or Three Kings or even [The Losers](http://www.nypress.com/article-21142-no-losers-here.html). Such flagrant brand-merchandising even excuses the romance between Cooper and Jessica Biel that no human being could believe anyway. Like Wilson’s Call of Duty shout-out, The A-Team isn’t "bad," it’s just straightforward gimcrack and commercialism. If you don’t know this, then what do you know?