Homefront hit theaters nationwide over the Thanksgiving weekend.
In the Sylvester Stallone scripted and produced Homefront, improbably-named hero Phil Broker (Jason Statham) literally saves a cat. And the audience I saw it with cheered! But I found my mouth agape (in a mixure of laughter and dismay), wondering if Academy Award-nominated screenwriter Stallone had merely read the back cover of Blake Snyder’s ubiquitous sreen writing manual… actually titled Save The Cat.
Certain movies… they just feel like they were made for you. And a movie in which Jason Statham fights a villainous, meth-dealing James Franco, from a script penned by Sylvester Stallone? That movie was made for me. I’m a noted Stallone apologist who will gladly argue that he is the greatest action hero of cinema history. And so, it is with a heavy heart I report that Homefront is borderline terrible. The “borderline” part is being generous, but I’ll get there.
Phil Broker is the most clean cut and straight-laced dude Statham has maybe ever attempted to play. And with boring results. He’s a good dad, a good carpenter, rides a horse pretty well, and is inexplicably British. He’s also an ex-undercover cop living in the United States Of Americana (a bayou town complete with fly fishermen on every bank, a red brick school house, and farmhouses with horse stables that are readily affordable to ex-cops) with his precocious daughter Maddy (Izabela Vidovic). They are living under a protection program of sorts, since Broker’s last case (undercover in a wicked-evil biker gang) went bad and a big boss’ firstborn ended up dead. We learn all this in a pre-credits action sequence featuring the most egregious Statham-wig since Revolver and a stomach-turning amount of shakey camera.
By the time the opening flashback/set up was over, I could only dream that James Franco was going to show up and redeem the hell out of this movie with his unique brand of crazy. Or that Statham would beat down some bayou rats with such glee that sloppy action photography would fade into the background. Instead, this 100 minute long film takes at least 200 minutes to light its fuse and set up the “pre-ordained since the beginning of time” showdown at the end.
The movie isn’t entirely lifeless, as the bulk of the cast does surprisingly strong work here. The casting director, Barbara Fiorentino, should come out of this thing totally unscathed. What about this project tempted the likes of James Franco, Kate Bosworth, Winona Ryder, and Clancy Brown to come out of the woodwork and attempt to breathe a little life into this flaccid proceeding? I can see the appeal for Statham to star in this one, and even he brings his typical, dependable charm and swagger. Even character-actor on the rise Frank Grillo gets to flex his hammy dirtbag muscles a little bit.
No, the problems with Homefront don’t lie at the feet of those in front of the camera. No matter how confidently Statham puts down a gang of hillbillies harassing him at a gas pump, he’s got to be shot with competence and style, or it doesn’t work. Director Gary Fleder (Kiss The Girls, Imposter, Runaway Jury) teams up with Cinematographer Theo van de Sande (Wayne’s World, Blade, TONS of Adam Sandler movies) to offer us absolutely nothing in the way of quality action sequences from a visual standpoint. I’m not a technician, and I genuinely respect anyone who works steadily in the industry over decades. These guys have upwards of 200 screen credits between them. But Homefront’s action sequences include everything I hate in films like this. The camera shakes CONSTANTLY when the tension runs high. The geography of the fight scenes and chases and showdowns are confusing and poorly executed. Maybe they were trying to emulate a popular style in modern action movies. Maybe they believe there was a kineticism to the visuals. There isn’t. Homefront makes all that juicy talent in front of the camera boring by making any tension moot through the sheer anti-climactic nature of the action.
And as I mentioned… maybe the poor visual style could’ve been overcome. Maybe the ludicrously over-performing/over-qualified cast could’ve dragged this movie into a realm of relative quality. But the screenplay at the heart of Homefront is probably its biggest albatross. I love Sylvester Stallone with all my heart. As long as he is making movies… I’m watching them. In theaters, on home video, I don’t care. He’s my man. And even I’m forced to tell you that this screenplay is irredeemable. You’ve got a painfully slow set up that pays off with an inevitable and vanilla climax. You’ve got a WHOLLY aimless love interest that gets dropped entirely once the “action” heats up. And then, you’ve got a “Gator” problem.
James Franco as the meth-dealing “Gator” Bodine; as much fun as Franco seems to be having… the character is hobbled before he’s even let out of the gate. All of you who were curious to see how a fight between Franco and Statham would go down? Prepare to be severely disappointed. Because Franco isn’t really the “main” villain here. Some generic evil biker dude gets that honor. And we barely even see that guy. Franco kind of sets the story in motion when he discovers who Phil Broker really is and manipulates his girlfriend (Ryder) and his sister (Bosworth) to help him increase his street cred with the bikers by handing Broker over to them. He’s a weasly middleman at best, and neither Frank Grillo or his entire anonymous gang of biker thugs can make up for that disappointment. I couldn’t WAIT to see Franco sink his teeth into a larger than life villain and square off against Statham. Dreams of an even trashier, more-action-oriented “Alien” from Spring Breakers danced in my head. Stallone’s screenplay and Fleder’s direction killed those childish dreams of mine dead.
Homefront offers the discerning action film fan nothing that Jack Reacher didn’t provide just a few short months ago, and better. It was probably very cheap to produce so no one will be out a whole ton of money if it doesn’t hit big. And, as I mentioned, the audience I saw this film with seemed to be so faithfully under Jason Statham’s spell that cheers erupted at the cat-saving, as well as after each poorly-executed beat down. So maybe the general populace will be way more forgiving of Homefront than I have been. I had a good laugh at a few patently Franco moments, and remain in Camp Statham and Camp Stallone pretty fervently. But this time out, I needed more.
And I’m Out.
