Man on Fire

If you'd have asked me a month ago if I'd ever watch a movie starring Denzel Washington and Dakota Fanning, I would have said those were two good reasons not to watch said movie. Once upon a time, I thought Denzel was a spectacular actor, but like so many actors, at some point he just sort of fell into acting oblivion. Time takes its course with them, and as the years go by, they tend to be forgotten; their glory days past. And Dakota Fanning? Generally annoying with her sweet girl, halo-like persona (though to her credit, she seems to be moving away from that image with recent films—exploring out-of-the-box, more adult roles). So with all this in mind, I entered Man on Fire with some trepidation. And given that it was directed by Tony Scott, I figured his general film template would be followed: lots of stylish, MTV-flashy editing; plenty of stylized violence and action that manages to trump any manageable story; and probably another "Mexican standoff" ending (think Enemy of the State, True Romance, and Domino).

But I have to say . . . on all fronts, I was proven very wrong! And gladly so, for Man on Fire ended up exceeding all my expectations.

In a lot of ways, Man on Fire was a mix between an action flick and a character study: an examination of a man who's near the end of his rope, searching for some kind of road to rebirth and redemption—all mixed together with an action-packed kidnapping tale. Denzel plays John Creasy, someone who's clearly burned out, unkempt, haunted by his past, drinking too much, and finding solace only in his friend Rayburn (Christopher Walken), whom Creasy visits on impulse down in El Paso. This here would be a good point to mention my one big complaint about Man on Fire: it's that the acting power was somewhat underutilized. Christopher Walken, always a joy to see, just gave a by-the-numbers supporting performance as an old colleague and friend of Creasy. Add to this Mickey Rourke's brief stint as the family attorney, who looks far more shady than he really ought to in this role, and you have two actors who needed more screen time and character development than they were given.

But the heart and soul of the film belonged to Denzel, who I think gave one of his best performances in years as Creasy. For a change, it felt like I was watching a character evolve on the screen rather than an actor. His rock-bottom mentality at the film's outset was authentic, genuine. Creasy was a man on his last legs with life, looking for the least excuse to end it all because he can't cope with his mysterious past. Fortuitously, Rayburn suggests that Creasy go to Mexico City to become a bodyguard—because as the opening scene depicts, kidnappings are rampant in Mexico City, so it doesn't hurt to have lots of extra (professional) protection. So Creasy interviews with a rich family who wants a bodyguard for their young daughter Pita (yup, you guessed it—Dakota Fanning!), and he reluctantly accepts.

I was obviously concerned that Dakota Fanning's Pita would be the annoyingly sunny and totally moral character she's become associated with, but she instead played Pita as a genuinely curious and engaging child. Though somewhat precocious, she still embodied all the right elements of youth that showed to me, the viewer, that she wasn't playing a miniature adult but rather a young child who's still overcoming various youthful obstacles (like choosing her own life path rather than the one her father plans for her). Her interest in Creasy could almost be akin to a school-girl crush, but her gradual view of him as something of a father figure—and likewise Creasy's slow tearing down of his emotional walls to allow himself to feel close to Pita—actually felt real. (And I absolutely had to laugh during Pita's "burping" scene.) Thus, the relationship that Pita and Creasy forged felt real, and not the least bit Hollywood—so that when her kidnapping took place, you almost felt the same pain Creasy did when he struggles yet ultimately fails to save her . . . and it's this inability to save Pita that ultimately gives Creasy the motivation to take down everyone involved in her kidnapping, no matter how high up the food chain he has to climb.

If there was ever a point where it felt the bounds of plausibility were tested, it would have been in Creasy's somewhat superhuman ability to withstand bullets. During Pita's kidnapping, I lost count of how many times he got shot, but he barely lost momentum in taking down at least half of the kidnappers. Now I've heard of adrenaline rushes, but c'mon! (Though why he wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest, I'll never know.)

The dialogue was surprisingly good here. It was sharp, but not obnoxious—sharp only insofar as to make its point. The one recurring line of the film, often spoken by Creasy when referencing the truthfulness and deceit of life, is, "A bullet always tells the truth." I think it was Rayburn, perfectly capturing Creasy's brighter spirit after befriending Pita, who said, "She taught him that it's okay to live." And my personal favorite, spoken by Creasy when surveying Fuentes, and in response to an old man's suggestion of forgiveness: "Forgiveness is between them and God. It's my job to arrange a meeting." Kinda fitting that he's assembling a rocket launcher when he says this, too.

While it didn't work so well in Domino, the flashy, MTV-like editing worked perfectly for Man on Fire. I was kind of surprised, though, that Tony Scott chose to put subtitles in sections where you didn't actually need them. I figure he did that for dramatic effect, for originality—and while it succeeded in all those aspects, it seemed a tad redundant from an editorial standpoint. Though the flashiness worked very well in such scenes as Creasy's interrogation of Fuentes, or during the slo-mo kidnappings, or during the montages of Creasy's drunken despondencies. It certainly helped enhance the dark, dangerous, gritty, yet almost surreal depiction of Mexico City—a depiction that reminded me strongly of Amores Perros.

Given Creasy's penchant for vigilantism, I kind of thought the ending would be predictable. Though I was surprised to learn that I was actually wrong. A few things I was able to figure out early, but not all of them—which is good, because an ending that surprises you is always a sign of good storytelling. When Creasy met with "The Voice's" squad at the end, I couldn't help but notice the absolutely beautiful green landscape set against the mountains of Mexico—and it made me think of the perfect visual and literary association: "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."

I give Man on Fire a score of 9. Surprising me with its excellent acting and storytelling, Denzel, Dakota, and Tony all deliver the goods.