Broken City (2013)
Crime | Drama | Thriller

Power plays everyone Mark Wahlberg, Russell Crowe and Catherine Zeta Jones star in this gripping crime thriller where everyone has a motive and no one can be trusted. Seven years after being forced to resign as a New York police officer, private detective Billy Taggart (Wahlberg) takes on his toughest case yet: following the wife (Zeta-Jones) of the city's hard-nosed mayor (Crowe), who's convinced she's cheating on him. But by the time the mayor reveals his true intentions, Billy is already in too deep. Now, with his freedom - and quite possibly his life - on the line, Billy will risk it all in a desperate bid to expose the truth, and seek redemption in a city where second chances don't come cheap.

Storyline: In a city rife with injustice, ex-cop Billy Taggart seeks redemption and revenge after being double-crossed and then framed by its most powerful figure: Mayor Nicholas Hostetler.

Reviewer's Note: Reviewed by Casey Broadwater, , April 30, 2013 -- Midway through Broken City, one character incredulously remarks, "Private eyes still exist?" A holdout from the times before no-fault divorce laws—when evidence of infidelity was demanded in court—the gumshoe-for-hire profession does seem old-fashioned and mostly unnecessary now. You could describe Broken City the same way: old-fashioned and mostly unnecessary. Penned by first-time screenwriter Brian Tucker and directed solo by Allen Hughes—one half of the Hughes Brothers, best known for Menace II Society and, most recently, The Book of Eli—the film struggles falteringly to be a neo-noir in the Chinatown mold, all political corruption and moral ambiguity, shady land dealings and romance gone sour. The problem here is that Tucker and Hughes have merely parroted the style instead of reinvigorating it and making it their own. Look no further than Nicholas Winding Refn's Drive to see that film noir has evolved in exciting new ways; conversely, Broken City feels like an ill-considered step backwards, from its tries-too-hard dialogue to its pointlessly convoluted plot, which recycles a few too many genre cliches.

It's unfortunate, because Mark Wahlberg is strong in the role of Billy Taggart, a disgraced former New York City cop who becomes embroiled in a mayoral election year scandal. In the film's prologue, Taggart cold-bloodedly shoots down a black teenager accused of raping and murdering the sixteen-year-old sister of Taggart's actress girlfriend, Natalie (Natalie Martinez). With the help of Police Chief Fairbanks (Jeffrey Wright) and Mayor Hostetler (Russell Crowe), a piece of crucial evidence against him goes missing and Taggart is acquitted of all charges. He's forced to resign from the force, however, and seven years later he's barely scraping out a living as a private investigator, tracking down unfaithful husbands by night and hounding their wives for late payments by day. Naturally—as these sorts of films go—he's also a recovering alcoholic, forever tempted by the bottle.

Shortly before the election, Taggart gets an out-of-the-blue call from Hostetler, who's in a tight race against liberal up-and-comer Jack Valliant—how's that for a too-obvious name?—played by a long-haired Barry Pepper. Hostetler suspects that his wife, Cathleen (Catherine Zeta-Jones), is having an affair, and he's worried that Valliant's campaign manager, Paul Andrews (Kyle Chandler), will somehow use this against him, noting—rather unbelievably—that citizens will elect a homosexual or a minority, but not a cuckold. He hires Taggart to find out what he can about Cathleen's extramarital activities, and—shock of shocks—the P.I. discovers that the mayor's wife has been rendezvousing with none other than Mr. Paul Andrews, meeting at a beach house out in Montauk.

Nothing is exactly as it initially seems, though, and from here the plot becomes increasingly knotted, wrapped around a $6 billion insider land development deal that could screw over the residents of a massive public housing project. An assassination meant to look like a robbery, a marriage on the rocks, a secret gay affair, a construction company heir with daddy issues—every new twist elicits more of a "huh?" than an "oh, wow." As proof that there's too much going on here, each development requires oodles of expository monologues just to explain the basics of what's happening. (I haven't even mentioned Taggart's hatred of liberal, fedora-wearing Hollywood types, manifested in an entirely unnecessary subplot about his girlfriend's nascent movie career.) On the subject of the dialogue—it's awful, going for that curt, sharp Raymond Chandler-by-way-of-David Mamet-speak but sounding phony and overwrought. Take this little speech from the police chief to Taggart: "I'm taking Hostetler down. If he sees election day, it'll be inside a cage, like a monkey. Now, you either help me, or you'll be in there with him sucking on bananas too."

It's hard to say whether the dialogue affects the quality of the performances or vice versa, but much of the acting here is weirdly off. With wiry blond hair and a bad New Yawk accent, Russell Crowe seems completely out of place, and Catherine Zeta-Jones—the closest the film comes to a femme fatale —is almost sluggish onscreen. (It doesn't help that she's practically written out of the movie by the end of the second act.) The worst offenders, though, are Natalie Martinez and Alona Tal—who plays Taggart's spunky secretary—both of whom offer up strangely stilted line readings, sometimes accenting awkward sylables. Character Jeffrey Wright is solid as usual, though—you may remember him from Syriana or Casino Royale—and he stands tall with Mark Wahlberg while the rest of the movie cracks and crumbles around them, as dysfunctional as the titular city. Still, despite its many flaws, the movie is more disappointing than outright, immediately dismissible bad. It's watchable, at the very least. To give some sort of gauge, I'd never actively seek it out to see it again, but I'd probably sit through it on a long plane ride if I had no other entertainment options.

Between Drive and The Place Beyond the Pines and half a dozen indie others, neo-noir is definitely seeing a resurgence. Unfortunately, Broken City will probably be one of the least remembered of the recent bunch. It wants to be Chinatown but it's closer to The Two Jakes, if you follow me—dull, unoriginal, and less than the sum of its many cinematic influences. Mark Wahlberg's smooth tough-guy performance stands out, but only because the rest of the movie is so unmemorable, a tangled knot of cliche storylines we've seen done numerous times before in much better films. It's passably watchable if you're, I dunno, sick in bed or bored on a rainy Saturday afternoon, but if you're a fan of crime thrillers, Broken City is not something you should feel obligated to rush out and see. If you're still curious, at least know that 20th Century Fox's Blu-ray release is all-around solid, with strong audio and video quality and a few decent extras.

[CSW] -2.2- As someone else said "A slow-moving political thriller with little heft to back off its somber tones. Crowe and Wahlberg both cut stark figures but there is nowhere to go." This film should have worked, but didn't. I can't say why it didn't work. All the pieces are there. Perhaps that's the problem. It feels like a script I've seen 1000 times. There were few surprises and it was generally predictable. Many of the characters seemed random and didn't seem to add to the story. Overall it was a pretty lackluster effort that didn't ever quite gel into anything meaningful. You best rent this one or better yet, wait for it to come on TV.
[V4.0-A4.0] MPEG-4 AVC - No D-Box.

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