This is a re-run with only the slightest of edits, so please don’t
ask me what the heck I was thinking when I wrote any given entry into this
section.
When Nat Binder (Yancy Butler) comes to New Orleans looking for her long-time
estranged, now missing, father, she doesn’t expect to find out he was homeless.
She certainly didn’t suspect he has become the victim of one of the hunts for
the ever popular Most Dangerous Game non-American (possibly even European!) bad
guys Emil Fouchon (Lance Henriksen) and Pik van Cleaf (Arnold Vosloo) hold for
their rich perverted clients. Their particular shtick is that the hunt’s
designated prey consists exclusively of former military personnel who have
fallen on hard times; don’t worry though, they’re certainly not going to play
fair when helping their clientele getting their victim.
Given how little Fouchon and his cronies care for human life (or a sensible
way to keep their hunts secret, now that I think about it), Nat would probably
have a rather short life too, if she didn’t fall in early with former special
forces super Cajun Chance Boudreaux (Jean-Claude Van Damme, whose accent is
totally not Belgian, no sir), a man quite able to turn the tables on these
particular hunters. Well, he was born on the Bayou, etc.
Oh, I still remember how cranky I was in the 90s when John Woo’s move to
Hollywood turned out the way that it did, with the director seemingly trading
downwards in every aspect of filmmaking, and quickly turning all his stylistic
idiosyncrasies into mere tics and shtick. Now, more than twenty years later, it
has become quite a bit easier to look at the resulting films with a more fair
eye, and to possibly even enjoy them.
Sure, the part where Woo’s films were now seemingly crapping doves without
any good reason (turns out when you overuse a metaphor this much, it ends up
signifying nothing whatsoever) is still there, but when I start to let myself be
dissuaded by a handful of random dove appearances, I really should stop watching
the kind of films I do. But then, Woo’s particular style of dance-like
ultra-violence and slow motion melodrama always was and is a thing teetering on
the border of self-parody, as directorial styles following the dogma that style
is substance (which I am wont to believe in too) inevitably must be; it’s a
question of individual taste where awesome stylized gun opera starts and where
silly nonsense begins, or if there’s indeed any difference between them that
matters.
Re-watching Hard Target after a decade or so, I realized how close
the film actually is to Woo’s Hong Kong work, or rather, how much those films
traded in the same kind of silliness and excess. I also realized I’m now very
much willing to just go with the sort of world where doves teleport in at the
slightest provocation, where crossbow bolts inevitably fly around in slow
motion, where gun hands are positioned in the most improbable ways, and where
things explode or catch fire for the slightest of reasons, even when the film
these things happen in was made in the USA. In fact, I’m at a point in my always
regressing taste where I find stuff like this absolutely lovely, and wouldn’t
have the film any other way. Particularly when these tasty morsels come with an
added dose of kitschy (but not necessarily untrue) poverty porn, the (completely
true) insight that all rich people are evil while the poor have dignity and
interesting haircuts, as well as a scene where Wilford Brimley rides in with bow
and arrow like a particularly absurd version of the cavalry, and shoots as if he
were trying our for the role of Old Man Hawkeye. Indeed, that’s all included in
the film – even the Brimley stuff that somehow didn’t manage to give 17-year old
me, who took these things far more seriously in exactly the wrong way than I do
now, a hernia when I watched it way back when in 1993. The resulting film is
indeed pretty darn great.
This does – of course – have a lot to do with some other things Woo still was
perfectly capable of when he went to the US. Namely, shooting damn great, tight
yet overblown (or is it the other way around) action sequences that never bog
down in self indulgence so much they are ever anything less than riveting. Woo
has an eye for the set piece, a heart for the melodramatic impact of the
physical action, for turning a potentially clichéd shoot-out into something
memorable by just the right choice of scenery and props, and a – one suspects
intrinsic – knowledge of just the appropriate rhythms between camera movement,
the bodies of his stunt actors and actors, and editing. There’s absolutely
nothing that isn’t great about the action here.
Woo even finds it in his heart to indulge his star’s greatest weakness, and
let’s JCVD do That Kick again, and again, and again. It seems to have been an
excellent way to get the man to relax in front of the camera too – at least Van
Damme does some of his better acting work in this stage of his career here. Why,
even his one-liner delivery is for once spot on and even charming. The rest of
the cast (except for Yancy Butler who has very pretty eyes and exclusively acts
by widening them and letting her mouth pop open and shut randomly) is rather
great too, with Henriksen giving one of his patented villain performances with
great gusto, and Vosloo working as the perfect foil, while Brimford is
appropriately absurd (that’s a compliment), and everybody else dies quite
enthusiastically.
So, I’m sorry to add another failure to the list, past me, but you were wrong
again. Hard Target is pretty damn great.
Friday, April 17, 2020
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