Walter Hill’s The Assignment

How is a criminally insane plastic surgeon like the Islamist Iranian regime? They both perform unwelcome gender reassignment surgeries. While the Islamist mullahs do so out of homophobia, Dr. Rachel Jane does out for revenge. In more forgiving moments, she also sees at as opportunity for the hitman who killed her brother to find redemption in a new life and gender, but mostly it is just about payback. Of course, that means the former Frank Kitchen will have to get revenge for her revenge in Walter Hill’s The Assignment (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Kitchen is good at his job, so it rather irks him when San Francisco gangster Honest John double crosses him. However, it really pushes his nose out of joint when he wakes up as a woman. Apparently, he whacked Dr. Jane’s deeply indebted drug-addled brother, as well as a ne’er do well relative of Honest John—hence their alliance.

Despite the hormones, Kitchen is still the same stone cold killer inside, which is the whole point of the film. With the help of Johnnie, his incredibly understanding one-night-stand from a couple nights before, who conveniently happens to be a nurse, Kitchen recuperates to the point that the killer can kill again. Pronouns are really tricky with respect to Assignment, because Kitchen still identifies as male, but in any event, our lead character will start picking off Honest John’s lieutenants, working towards the gangster and the surgeon, who narrates the tale in media res from the comfort of her looney bin straight jacket.

It is tempting to defend Assignment just because it makes so many people apoplectic. In the current hyper-sensitive climate, the nobility and victimhood of transgender characters are sacrosanct. There is simply no room for a lurid pulp anti-hero like Kitchen. That is a shame, because the kneejerk chorus of boos has a chilling effect. Conceivably, it could make a serious film about Iranian forced gender reassignments harder to produce, as a for instance.

In this case, it also means Sigourney Weaver’s wonderfully campy scenery chewing as Dr. Jane gets thrown out with the bathwater. It is great fun to watch her quote Shakespeare and condescendingly talk down to her inferiors, which pretty much includes everybody. On the other hand, Michelle Rodriguez’s growling Frank Kitchen voice sounds utterly ridiculous. Still, her prosthetic chest hair and other stuff are sufficiently lifelike in pre-op scenes.

Hill helped define 1980s cinema with 48 Hours and Streets of Fire. He can still stage a decent action scene, but his pulp sensibility is sadly anachronistic in the age of the social justice warrior. The Assignment isn’t great (although Weaver sort of is), but it is far from the affront to humanity some make it out to be. Frankly, it is almost worth buying a ticket or dialing it up On-Demand just to assert your right to make that choice for yourself. Half-recommended, The Assignment opens tomorrow (4/7) in New York, at the Village East.

Red Lights: They Mean Stop, Don’t Go

Sigourney Weaver has gone from ghost-busting to ghost debunking.  However, she may have met her match in Simon Silver, a notorious television psychic from the 1970’s, who comes out of retirement for nefarious purposes in Rodrigo Cortés’ Red Lights (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Dr. Margaret Matheson (a Richard Matheson hat-tip, perhaps?) is the chair of the department of skepticism.  Her rival, Dr. Paul Shackleton, is the chair of the department of believing any spooky thing that might bring in funding.  She and her colleague Dr. Tom Buckley expose psychic frauds, while Shackleton plays with his flash cards.  Simon Silver was the one that got away.  Supposedly vindicated by a flawed laboratory study Matheson refused to sign-off on, Silver’s triumph has always been a blot on her reputation. 

With the Uri Geller inspired villain back in the public eye, Buckley is spoiling for a fight and sweating profusely, but Matheson is gun shy.  Even if he does not have psychic powers, Silver is a master of finding his critics’ weak spots and exploiting them.  Yet, with all the stuff suddenly going bump in the night, we are led to wonder whether or not the psychic really does command dark forces after all.

The first half of Red is a rather nifty little paranormal investigation procedural, but once Weaver’s Matheson is unwisely removed from the equation, the film completely craters.  Logic is treated with contempt and the indie breakout sensation Elizabeth Olsen is stuck standing around with nothing to do, besides sleep with her T.A.  To make matters worse, Buckley’s closing monologue and subsequent voiceover narration invite open mockery, following a climax that looks like it was plagiarized from the Harry Potter franchise.  They are so over-the-top, they make the newly rediscovered Ed Wood film, Final Curtain, sound sharp and focused by comparison.

Weaver brings a reliably smart and mature presence to the film as Matheson and she develops a likable and realistic chemistry with Cillian Murphy’s Buckley.  Frankly, the female mentor-male protégé relationship is not often seen in films and it is quite nicely turned here.  Unfortunately, all the woo-woo effects get awfully sour very quickly.  It is also another depressing reminder of the fall of Robert De Niro, once again playing an icily impassive villain in a dark business suit.

Red really can be divided into two distinct parts.  One is pretty engaging.  The other is ridiculous and utterly clichéd.  Sadly, the latter is the somewhat longer concluding piece, which essentially sinks the entire film.  A severe return trip to the editing bay was advocated for Red here when it screened at Sundance, but given the venom heaped on its embarrassingly overwrought conclusion, this clearly did not happen.  As a result, Red is ultimately a disappointment, not recommended, despite the nice work from Weaver up top.  It opens today (7/13) in New York at the AMC Empire.

Sundance ’12: Red Lights

Sigourney Weaver has gone from ghost-busting to ghost debunking. However, she may have met her match in Simon Silver, a notorious television psychic from the 1970’s, who comes out of retirement for nefarious purposes in Rodrigo Cortés’ Red Lights (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Sundance Film Festival.

Dr. Margaret Matheson (a Richard Matheson hat tip perhaps?) is the chair of the department of skepticism. Her rival Dr. Paul Shackleton is the chair of the department of believing any spooky thing that might bring in funding. She and her colleague Dr. Tom Buckley expose psychic frauds, while Shackleton plays with his flash cards. Simon Silver was the one that got away. Supposedly vindicated by a flawed laboratory study Matheson refused to sign off on, Silver’s triumph has always been a blot on her reputation.

With the Uri Geller inspired villain back in the public eye, Buckley is spoiling for a fight, but Matheson is gun shy. Even if he does not have psychic powers, Silver is a master of finding his critics’ weak spots and exploiting them. Yet, with all the stuff suddenly going bump in the night, we are led to wonder whether or not the psychic really does command dark forces after all.

The first half of Red is a rather nifty little paranormal investigation procedural, but once Weaver’s Matheson is out of the equation, the film completely craters. Logic is treated with contempt and the indie breakout sensation Elizabeth Olsen is stuck standing around with nothing to do, besides sleep with her T.A. To make matters worse, Buckley’s closing monologue and subsequent voiceover narration invite open mockery. They are so over-the-top, they make the newly rediscovered Ed Wood film sound sharp and focused by comparison.

Weaver brings a reliably smart and mature presence to the film as Matheson and she develops a likable and realistic chemistry with Cillian Murphy’s Buckley. Frankly, the female mentor-male protégé relationship is not often seen in films and it is quite nicely turned here. Unfortunately, all the woo-woo effects get awfully sour very quickly. It is also another depressing reminder of the fall of Robert De Niro, once again playing an icily impassive villain in a dark suit.

Red really can be divided into two distinct parts. One is pretty engaging. The other is ridiculous and utterly clichéd. Sadly, the latter is the somewhat longer concluding piece, which essentially sinks the entire film. Recommended for a severe return trip to the editing bay, Red is ultimately a disappointment at this year’s Sundance, where it screens this Wednesday (1/25) and Saturday (1/25) in Park City and tomorrow (1/24) in Ogden.