Dwayne Johnson erupts from a prison cell a pulsing mound of ripped flesh. Personified Evil with a vintage jacket and muscle car. For a good thirty minutes he blasts his way into murderous situations, scowling for the camera, his enormous biceps overrunning the short lens, 2.35:1 frame. The film cuts furiously, fetishizing dashboards, hairstyles, weapons. A POV shot from *inside* a speedometer, looking at an enraged, racing Dwayne Johnson. It is a dam burst of cool cinema.
It would be a miracle for an entire feature to maintain this level and, of course, it doesn't. Once niggling things like character, plot and motivation creep in, all the magic that makes Faster unique start to disappear. Still, there are some joys to be found.
When film snobs try to find merit in a one-track, far-fetched action movie, they'll whip out the ol' "evocative of Point Blank"
trump card. The John Boorman/Lee Marvin freight train of singleminded violence is belligerent, cold, incredibly stylish and has only gotten cooler with age. Not since Steven Soderbergh's The Limey has there been such a love letter to its aesthetic as with George Tillman Jr.'s Faster. If you are a Point Blank booster, and lord knows there are many in cineaste circles, you simply must see this film.
(Well, the first half of it, anyway.)
While Johnson's performance is one of a rock, Billy Bob Thornton is having a good time in his absurd, greasy hair cut. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, always good, takes a cliche preacher character and knocks it out of the park. Still, it is virtually impossible to care about any of these people - heck, most of them don't even have names - but they sure are framed and lit well.
Someone with a negative point of view toward life would focus on the inconceivably idiotic nature of the third act twist to Faster, or perhaps the absurdity of the whole endeavor. Those of us who
are more positive will focus, instead, on moments like a showdown in a bathroom (how base!). Two killers, circling and snorting at one another like wild water buffalo, preparing to engage in barbaric acts of violence, shot in a truly visceral manner. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but there are moments of great art in Faster, teasing that perhaps George Tillman Jr. may one day make a great film.
