Regie:
Scott FrankScenario:
Scott FrankCamera:
Mihai Malaimare Jr.Muziek:
Carlos Rafael RiveraActeurs:
Liam Neeson, Dan Stevens, David Harbour, Boyd Holbrook, Ólafur Darri Ólafsson, Astro, Mark Consuelos, Adam David Thompson, Sebastian Roché, Laura Birn (meer)Streaming (1)
Samenvattingen(1)
New York is in de greep van een reeks brute moorden. Wanneer de vrouw van een invloedrijke crimineel wordt ontvoerd en de seriemoordenaars losgeld eisen, kan de drugsdealer onmogelijk naar de politie. Hij roept de hulp in van privédetective Matt Scudder. Als voormalig NYPD agent is hij de aangewezen persoon om deze zaak tot op de bodem uit te zoeken. Hij bijt zicht vast in het onderzoek en maakt koortsachtig jacht op de psychopaten die de stad terroriseren. Wanneer de enige getuige voor zijn ogen zelfmoord pleegt, lijkt het spoor dood te lopen. Tot Matt onderdeel wordt van het gestoorde spel dat door de moordlustige kidnappers gespeeld wordt. (A-Film Benelux)
(meer)Video's (5)
Recensie (9)
Neeson walking for some money. First I have to say that Liam Neeson is one of my favourites, but this film is definitely his weakest. There is literally nothing interesting and certainly nothing that I haven't seen in any other film that happens here. It's cliched and boring at the same time. There is very little action and it is so uninterestingly shot that you hardly even notice it. Fans of slow, boring and uninteresting films built solely on story, which I also found unexceptional here, might be happier. I haven't had as much trouble watching a film to the end as I did here in a long time.
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Liam Neeson again plays a first-class ass-kicker, but unlike Bill Marks, his character has overcome alcoholism (emphasised here more than in the book) and, unlike Bryan Mills, he makes more room for psychology and diplomacy. For a viewer wanting another furious action spectacle, it may even seem that Oskar Schindler will talk the violent psychopaths to death. Personally, I welcomed the consistency of the hard-boiled stylisation, even though it involves reducing women to the status of passive victims. After brutal sexual crimes have been perpetrated against them, the men can avenge them and, in a certain sense, thus redeem themselves (the motif of redemption is quite forcefully pushed into the foreground in the climax, when we have to listen to all twelve steps of the Alcoholics Anonymous programme). Women’s suffering serves only as a pretext for heroic deeds and the moral purification of flawed men. The only relatively active female character from the book (Scudder’s girlfriend, Elaine) was cut out of the film in the interest of better narrative flow. Of course, classic noir films weren’t any more considerate in their handling of female characters, but wouldn’t it have been enough to emulate the classics only at the style level? With its longer, mostly static shots and claustrophobic compositions together with muted colours and a gloomy soundtrack, that style elicits the need to escape into another, more colourful and kinder world. However, the image of a corrupt society with twisted values is taken to such an extreme that the film’s most appealing scenes are the perverted fantasies of serial killers (we see the first one in the opening credits). Such a film naturally cannot have a happy ending, though the last scene may at first give the impression that it will. However, in the context of the immediately preceding events, which most radically deviate from the book (apparently because of the more active role given to Scudder, whose character is otherwise paradoxically based on the passive acceptance of violence), the “superhero” aspect mainly raises concerns about whether there is a way out of the endless cycle of violence that only inspires more such behaviour. 75%
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Not only is this film not the peak of the genre but it is, in fact, quite a ways away. The culprit is the script, which cooks from proven but old and worn ingredients and the worst thing is that it doesn't work with mystery. The evildoers are known to the viewer, and there is simply no tension from their revelation. Scott Frank was probably supposed to replace it with atmosphere, but he didn't have the strength for it. A Walk Among the Tombstones is not an atmospheric film, and the comparison to Schumacher's 8MM is simply completely wrong. If Frank succeeds in building tension, it is thanks to the use of proven genre clichés, which any movie fan will consider somewhat overused. Another objection I have is (it is, of course, only my problem) that the most feared hunter of organized crime in retirement alias Liam Neeson slightly disgusted me with his acting in the various derivatives of Taken, so I did not perceive his experienced acting as a contribution. However, the film would still be good enough for a genre average and 3 stars, but there is also the anemic black boy, who, of course, was abandoned by his mother and found meaning in life through collaboration with the main protagonist. I am particularly sensitive to this trick, and the film loses one star because of it. I would only react worse to a blond blue-eyed girl suffering from leukemia, whom our brave detective platonically falls in love with. Overall impression: 40%.
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Do not expect an action flick just because it’s Liam Neeson. The only action scene takes place in the first minutes. This film is closer in spirit to Joel Schumacher’s 8MM, but it’s afraid to become too dark and heavy. For incomprehensible reasons, it lightens up and mocks the aura around the main bad guys, who should chill you to the bone. Philosophizing over guilt and redemption does not work very well either – in one of the final scenes it sticks out like a sore thumb. Neeson is OK, but Ólafsson is the best, albeit in a smaller role (he was also the best in Walter Mitty). [Cinemark 18, Howard Hughes Promenade, LA]
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A perfect, old school detective movie with a precise Neeson, perverted kidnappers and a cold, sodden atmosphere. These non-digital guy’s movies are few and far between and I’m glad that Scott Frank was able to resurrect this genre even in today’s world. A gloomy mood at the end of the millennium, full of junkies and cut-up whores, an ingenious story from the pen of Lawrence Block, all spiced with the crackly, hoarse, Irish telephone voice of a former drunk? I want a sequel!
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