Transporter, More than Meets the Eye….

I saw “The Transporter” recently, an action-adventure kung fu, things-blow up kind of movie — one of the best examples of the genre I’ve seen actually. The direction by Hong Kong cinema’s Corey Yuen is very slick and the plotting quick and smart; it effortlessly achieves the kind of seamless Eurosophistication which James Bond movies try for and achieve only very rarely. The fight scenes had an almost Jackie Chan level of inventiveness — my favorite was a fight in oil ooze, with everybody slipping and sliding around; our hero, Frank (a very hot Jason Statham) achieves victory by breaking the foot holds off a bicycle and donning them so he can stand while nobody else can. There was also a great scene where the protagonist doffs his shirt in order to wrap his enemies up in it: perhaps the best excuse for getting bare abs on screen I’ve witnessed. In fact, one of the most entertaining parts of the movie is Statham’s demeanor during the fight sequences; he’s always looking around carefully before he bursts into action, so you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out how he’s going to take out *these* fifteen guys. It makes him seem both dangerous and vulnerable — and really lets you see how much you lose when you saddle your lead with a mask throughout most of the film (on which more in a moment.)

Transporter is also to be lauded for its resolute refusal to cater to action narrative cliches. Despite a couple of feints (a box of photographs, dark references to the past) the film never saddles Frank with a Tragic Backstory; there’s no wife whose express purpose is to be killed to provide our hero with motivation, no unreconciled father figure to add a stupid and easy poignancy. This seems to be the main reason the movie was critically panned — most reviewers whined about the lack of story. I, on the contrary, was almost absurdly grateful. Among other things, the decision to avoid bathetic self-righteous vengeance gave the movie a chance to actually give Frank something akin to characterization — he’s businesslike, fussy bachelor, adverse to mess in a neurotic and endearing way. Not an unfamiliar type, but well-played, and fun to see layered on top of the super-competent martial arts hero schtick.

I also quite liked the female lead, Lai Kei (Shu Qui.) She’s neither a fetishized action heroine nor a wet mop; she doesn’t know karate, but instead gets by on gumption, smarts, computer skills, and the occasional outright falsehood. She totally plays Frank, but retains our sympathy, and certainly isn’t punished for it (as she would be in a James Bond movie). Often in action movies you’re left wondering why (beyond the obvious physical appeal) the two leads would want anything to do with each other, but here the characters are both charismatic and charming; you can totally see why they’d be attracted to each other. And yes, Lai does have an unreconciled father; but the movie is content to just treat him as a big jerk, rather than as, for example, a sexual abuser.

The dialogue is also suprisingly snappy and clever; a discussion of Proust’s qualifications to be a police inspector had me laughing out loud, and the first sex scene between the protagonists (in which Frank seems positively exasperated) is both romantic and extremely funny. The whole movie is just a gem; a criminally underrated classic.

In contrast — I also saw Batman Begins recently, or as much of it as I could stomach. Ugly, whiny, dumb, with some quite decent actors wasted on a wretched script, the whole thing blighted by Liam Neeson’s tiresome and remorseless self-regard. Also, as my wife pointed out, putting ninjas in Tibet is clueless enough to actually border on racism — “Well, gee, it’s all Asia isn’t it? Hyuk hyuk!” The self-actualizing mumbo-jumbo (overcome your fear by dressing as a bat! That makes sense!) is really just embarrassing for everyone. There was a decent movie in there struggling to breathe free (featuring, perhaps, a lot more screentime for the very creepy Scarecrow) but it got buried under stupid New Age philosophy, the exigencies of a monumentally idiotic plot (Asian justice cult dedicated to the mercy killings of civilizations — I mean come on. What ever happened to good old-fashioned world domination? Isn’t that a good enough motivation anymore?), and the inevitable Tragic Backstory. It really makes you appreciate Heath Ledger even more; that he could turn Dark Knight into a decent movie rather than a repetition of this fiasco is an impressive testament to his talent.

11 thoughts on “Transporter, More than Meets the Eye….

  1. The timing of this cracks me up:

    Kim Deitch-meh!
    The Transporter-great!
    Batman Begins-puke!

    What’s next?

  2. Didn’t the oil slick scene also have ball bearings? I remember there being ball bearings as well as oil, and thus the hilarity was doubled. Or something.

    I should watch that movie again.

  3. Oh, I almost forgot. That weird French guy, the old dude–he ended up being the Ricky Gervais character in the French version of the Office.

    Useless!
    Information!
    for free though.

  4. No ball bearings, alas. There was a fight in a bus, though.

    That French inspector guy was fabulous. I actually wondered what ever happened to him…and now I know!

  5. Noah- I think you’re getting dangerously close to the point where everybody except your wife will have no reason to seek out what you have to say about comics, movies, etc.
    I get the sense that any notion that passes through your transum is immediately regarded by you as being worthy of exposure, only to dig up some kind of critical theory /race/gender/Marx garbage to support it after the fact to make you feel like you’ve done your job.
    I know I’m at the point where I’m no longer even interested in telling you why I think you’re wrong. Bad sign for a critic….
    Transporter is indeed a fun movie and Batman Begins has lots of problems, but I don’t see any real criticism of them here.
    Over and out.

  6. Hey uland. You’re getting dangerously close to self-parody, man. You’re posting on a blog (a blog, mind you) to tell some random internet guy that you don’t want to read what he’s writing. You support this by insisting that you’re too lazy to explain why I’m too lazy to explain something to your satisfaction. Whatever. If you want to have a conversation, cool. If you don’t want to read what I have to say, don’t read it. If you (for whatever bizarre reason) want to distribute my post far and wide across the Internets (or at least on the TCJ message board) in order to show how much you don’t care about it — eh, go ahead.

    I’ll look forward to reading more of your posts about how I’ve infiltrated your brain and forced you to visit my blog. Or, you know, not.

  7. I always forget that you have a wife, but reading Uland’s post reminded me that, oh yeah, you totally do, and I have kind of fallen in love with the idea that there’s a woman out there who looks into the Noah blog, and says “Ah, I completely agree with this. Kim Deitch bores me so. What a garish film Batman Begins was. Well, off to market.”

  8. Oh, yeah; I should also point out that my wife just about never reads my blog. Make of that what you will….

  9. Noah- I’ve read a lot of what you’ve written with great interest. I agree with about two percent of it, but it at least inspired some analysis; I was forced to consider how and why I disagreed with you.
    With your latest stuff, it just seems like you’re resting on your laurels. You’re not taking the time to flesh anything out and it just leaves me thinking that you’re not making any real arguments, so there is no real need to actively disagree.

  10. Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, of course. The women in prison essay I just published is about the best thing I’ve written, in my opinion. If you don’t like gender theory it may not be your thing, but it’s here if you want to see it. I had an essay in the Reader about Pyha and Karen Dalton which I thought was one of the more interesting things I’ve done recently. The Winsor McCay essay in the most recent TCJ is lengthy and doesn’t talk about gender or Marx at all, far as I can remember. I have a column coming out soon over at comixology which was influenced by the Piss Christ debate over on the message board; it’s supposed to be out this Friday I believe, so you can see what you think about that.

    Blog posts are blog posts. I tend to use the blog to talk about things that entertain me, or to record passing thoughts that it seems like other folks might be interested in, or as a sort of workbook to think through stuff I haven’t completely processed yet. That’s becoming even more the case as I get (slightly) more work and am able to get paid more frequently when I take the time to finish something. Sooo…if you want more fully formulated bits, you could maybe stick with the essays. (Some of which are reprinted on the blog of course…I guess you could just read those and skip the rest.)

    I do appreciate your interest, and regret that your mileage is not what it once was. It’s possible that all the girls and booze and rock and roll has spoiled me, I suppose.

    Tucker, our posts crossed; as I wrote I did not even know that I was destroying your happy daydream. For what it’s worth, my wife does agree with me on Transporter, Deitch, and Batman Begins. Our harmony is not perfect, alas: she couldn’t care less about Jack Hill or John Carpenter, for instance.

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