Movie Review: Contraband

Movie Review: Contraband

This film was directed by Baltasar Kormákur, the man responsible for The Amazing Truth About Queen Raquela, Brúðguminn, Summerland, and other movies you’ve never heard of.   His resume is not what brought me to watch this film; I was compelled by a faceless marketing team who managed to convince me to spend $36AUD, dragging myself and the Mrs’ sorry arse from the couch in doing so.

Upon leaving the cinema my post-purchase satisfaction ebbed at an all-time low.  I noted, with discomfort, the lack of legislative protection for a consumer in my position.  In failing to entertain me and keep the Mrs happy the product failed to comply with its implied job description, however you still can‘t get your money back (trust me, I’ve tried).

Despite having a Nordic director it’s actually an American remake of the Icelandic screenplay Reykjavik-Rotterdam, which sounds about as interesting as it probably was.  And without confusing you, I’ve just read that the director of Contraband, Baltasar Kormákur, played the main character in the original Icelandic version.  And if that doesn’t have bollocks written all over it, then I’m a Dutchman sporting a monkey’s arse as a hat.

So if you’re thinking of watching this film: awesome.  It’s about a career criminal gone straight, yet forced back into a life of crime to prevent his brother in law from being killed after a drug deal gone wrong.

The main character, Chris Farraday (played by Mark Wahlberg) is on the surface a bad guy we are supposed to think is actually a good guy.  The plot is therefore conveniently centred on this reformed career criminal who claims a lack of positive role models led him into a life of crime.  Of course for the benefit of the film we’re expected to buy this tott the scriptwriters are selling us - and let’s be honest the general calibre of moron either side of me in the dimly-lit cinema, mouths slightly open, sitting comfortable in the filthy seats while stuffing their faces and rustling bags with their incessant fiddling into over-priced packets of gluttony - these morons were probably soaking in the bullshit like a dry sponge, ready and willing to take the poison from the vile chalice.  Suck it in, suck it in deep.  For a person like me, and undoubtedly you, this weary explanation falls short of being convincing; probably only succeeding in contributing to the widely held belief that nothing is within a man’s control.  Not my fault, my parents were never there, I had no education; I’m poor, indigenous, etc.  It’s the last resort of the lazy, keeping their prospects firmly rooted in the ghettos. 

Video games don’t play themselves.

So anyway our hero is forced to ply his underworld skills, against his will, and with adventurous outcomes. Whalberg acted well enough, his character Not Departed from any other role he’s played out: a slightly petulant and misunderstood battler with a bad temper and a knack for getting away with things.  The hard-luck story America loves so much on screen and has zero time for in actuality.

The pace is good and a few anxious moments entertained, however there’s serious confusion as to whom we are supposed to hate, and not because the characters are complex or multifaceted, but because they are fractured, contradicting, inconsistent.  The early bad-guy - a drug dealer played by Giovanni Ribisi - by the end of the film his principal affront was of the hygenic nature.  As the plot developed the ‘real’ bad guy turned out to be Sebastian Abney, played by Ben Foster, AKA crazy skinny white drug addict from Alpha- Dog - no, not Justin Timberlake the other one.   Yet, and I'm sure this wasn't the filmmakers' intention, but he was more of a pseudo-psycho: not psycho enough to really hate the man and not psycho enough to validate his actions at the end of the film.  Both villains were a muted, slightly vacant version of a character we wanted to hate, preventing any meaningful connection with the story and robbing the film’s climax of its believability.

Perhaps the most disappointing outcome was the fact Reykjavik-Rotterdam flagrantly lifted the brilliant character from Alpha-Dog, actor and all, dumped him in this film, and set about having his way with it.  It would be an improvement if he did away with the falsities and dragged across the script, word for word.  No doubt this would add confusion and probably be illegal but at least we wouldn’t have to witness the vicious molestation of some other bloke’s genius.

One final gripe; there’s a lot of kissing between Wahlberg and his wife, Kate Beckingsale, which in itself was an outright lie as married people don’t pash, but it also served as a distraction from the plot.  I’m trying to get lost in the script however I’m otherwise employed reflecting on the previous scene where Wahlberg felt the need to kiss his wife like a 16 year old having his skanky way with his first.  His ‘goodbye I’m going off to try and save your brother and don’t know if I’ll be back’ scene was immense; I thought he was going to cop a feel, maybe sneak in a quick hickie on his wife’s neck before saying goodbye to the child who was blatantly standing there the whole time.

So yeah, watch this film it’s awesome.

Two stars.