Anonymous Gambler
Wild Card (2015), directed by Simon West, showed me that Jason Statham is a good actor. I got a glimpse of his abilities in Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels (1999). As part of an ensemble cast with many memorable performances, Statham held his own at a time when he wasn't much known in cinema universe. By the time of Wild Card, Statham had joined the Fast and Furious franchise and had appeared in several of his own star vehicles, emphasis on "special set of abilities a characteristic of someone capable of kicking ass."
In Wild Card, Statham's name is, improbably, Nick Wild, not Gunther Horgendorfer or some other uncool-sounding name. He's a hardcore gambler, will blow fifty-thousand in one night. A woman friend of his gets raped and beaten by a slick gangster who needs protection in the form of chunky bodyguards. The gangster put his gun barrel into the woman's vagina after raping her and told her to explain how much she loves him, to be convincing, otherwise, pow.
The guy's obvious dangerous sick fuck personality, accentuated by expensive cologne, a well-trimmed goatee, silk suits in the five figure zone, is annoyingly capped by his self-worship of his own self-described large penis, "God's gift to humanity," or some such nonsense.
Nick, hired by the assaulted woman, goes to confront and subdue the prick and his two bodyguards in an expensive Las Vegas hotel suite. Escaping near-certain death, Nick Wild slices a bodyguard's neck with a credit card, viciously kicks a shin, beats all three, ties them to chairs and lets in a waiting woman desiring revenge against her attacker, using garden shears.
The gangster weeps copiously, pleading to have his pecker spared. She nicks it at the tip but doesn't go through with it, but at one point does have the blades squeezing the rod at the base. Nick isn't too thrilled with this, but is willing to let her do what she's going to do.
Leaving the trio tied up, Nick gambles. He wants half a million to go and live in Corsica. Why Corsica? I don't know. He makes it to Corsica, but before that has to fend off the gangster's men using a spoon and a butter knife from his favorite diner. I was hoping to see what Nick can do with a pile of wet paper towels, but the film doesn't go there.
Some of the action is in slow computerized Matrix-like motion. It's me, but I prefer real time action scenes. It seems the filmmakers cheat when they go slo-mo in such scenes. Slow motion can mask much of the real clumsiness or inelegance of movements practiced by actors or actresses pretending to be adept at martial arts. Statham is convincing in real time action scenes, too. There are a few in the film, including the climactic fight with spoon and butter knife.
Receiving the business end of a butter knife rammed into one's eye couldn't possibly feel good.
The film flows well, Statham is good, Vegas is always a good backdrop, especially during its daytime hours when it seems like just a city with weirdly shaped buildings.
Wild Card (2015), directed by Simon West, showed me that Jason Statham is a good actor. I got a glimpse of his abilities in Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels (1999). As part of an ensemble cast with many memorable performances, Statham held his own at a time when he wasn't much known in cinema universe. By the time of Wild Card, Statham had joined the Fast and Furious franchise and had appeared in several of his own star vehicles, emphasis on "special set of abilities a characteristic of someone capable of kicking ass."
In Wild Card, Statham's name is, improbably, Nick Wild, not Gunther Horgendorfer or some other uncool-sounding name. He's a hardcore gambler, will blow fifty-thousand in one night. A woman friend of his gets raped and beaten by a slick gangster who needs protection in the form of chunky bodyguards. The gangster put his gun barrel into the woman's vagina after raping her and told her to explain how much she loves him, to be convincing, otherwise, pow.
The guy's obvious dangerous sick fuck personality, accentuated by expensive cologne, a well-trimmed goatee, silk suits in the five figure zone, is annoyingly capped by his self-worship of his own self-described large penis, "God's gift to humanity," or some such nonsense.
Nick, hired by the assaulted woman, goes to confront and subdue the prick and his two bodyguards in an expensive Las Vegas hotel suite. Escaping near-certain death, Nick Wild slices a bodyguard's neck with a credit card, viciously kicks a shin, beats all three, ties them to chairs and lets in a waiting woman desiring revenge against her attacker, using garden shears.
The gangster weeps copiously, pleading to have his pecker spared. She nicks it at the tip but doesn't go through with it, but at one point does have the blades squeezing the rod at the base. Nick isn't too thrilled with this, but is willing to let her do what she's going to do.
Leaving the trio tied up, Nick gambles. He wants half a million to go and live in Corsica. Why Corsica? I don't know. He makes it to Corsica, but before that has to fend off the gangster's men using a spoon and a butter knife from his favorite diner. I was hoping to see what Nick can do with a pile of wet paper towels, but the film doesn't go there.
Some of the action is in slow computerized Matrix-like motion. It's me, but I prefer real time action scenes. It seems the filmmakers cheat when they go slo-mo in such scenes. Slow motion can mask much of the real clumsiness or inelegance of movements practiced by actors or actresses pretending to be adept at martial arts. Statham is convincing in real time action scenes, too. There are a few in the film, including the climactic fight with spoon and butter knife.
Receiving the business end of a butter knife rammed into one's eye couldn't possibly feel good.
The film flows well, Statham is good, Vegas is always a good backdrop, especially during its daytime hours when it seems like just a city with weirdly shaped buildings.
Vic Neptune
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