Men always judge one another by their respective levels or toughness and aggression. Even when they don't, they do. Every one of us entertains our own personal fantasy of getting shit done under a hail of bullets. If you could look inside a man's head's for thirty seconds, you'd see guns, tits, coke, blood, beer, brass poles and barbarians. Even the most progressive of us fantasizes about that all the goddamn time. If he tells you otherwise, he's lying. Filmmaker John Hillcoat's latest piece of visual badassery Triple 9 is the closest thing to living in my own head I've seen on a screen for a long time. It's not a perfect movie by any means, but it sure is a goddamn riot and a half.
Detectives Marcus Belmont (Anthony Mackie) and Franco Rodriguez (Clifton Collins Jr.) have a side job robbing banks with Mike (Chiwetel Ejiofor), Russell (Norman Reedus) and Gabe (Aaron Paul), because they're greedy assholes hiding behind their badge. After almost almost fucking up their first job together, they're forced to worked together again by their boss (freakin' Kate Winslet) who's holding out on their payoff. The second job is more dangerous and complicated, so Belmont and Rodriguez decide to eliminate a fellow officer in order to give themselves some leeway. Belmont chooses his new incorruptible partner Chris Allen (Casey Affleck) as the crew's unwitting victim.
Not a very sound plan, right? Guys, you have NO idea...
People I know to have sophisticated tasted in badassery gave Triple 9 their seal of approval, hence why I bothered seeing it in theater. I thought the script was a bit overambitious, throwing around too many ideas at the same time, and that it looked too pampered, but this is the extent of my discontentment with Triple 9. That movie was fucking awesome. It was an ultraviolent and darwinian thrill ride through the mean streets of imaginary Atlanta where men are looking for meaning to their life amidst the ambient chaos and despair. Each one of them want to be different from the others, unique and it puts them on collision course and it gets pretty darn ugly.
The movie is also obsessed with the color red for some reason.
That said, Triple 9 shouldn't be taken too seriously for it is a male fantasy. It's a mixture of everything men fear and everything they dream about at night. It's a form of hyperrealism if you will. Screenwriter Matt Cook often plays coy with the outlandish dialogue lines and Triple 9 ends up taking itself a little to seriously for what it is because of it, but the stellar cast and especially the vision of John Hillcoat help carrying through its few shortcomings. It features some of the most brilliantly tense scenes I've had the privilege to watch over the last couple years. Keep these keywords in mind: shield, abandoned building, elevator, car chase. You could watch these scenes out of context and it would tie a knot in your gut anyway. Hillcoat's a bad dude. He WILL make you shit your pants if it amuses him.
Triple 9 is a rather simple movie despite its intricate and ambitious screenplay. Maybe that's why it got lukewarm reviews from the critics. It has a handful of epiphanies where it re-engineers the purpose of certain scenes (aforementioned car chase scene, the hospital bedside scenes at the end). Otherwise it's closer to the classic heist movie than it is from something boundary-challenging like Drive, for example. Still, it's a sturdy and crass hardboiled movie that indulges in every irrational thing that can go through a man's mind over the course of a day. It will live a long life as a cult favorite. Triple 9 might not become everybody's favorite movie, but it will be mentioned in a couple year-end favorite lists because of Matt Cook and John Hillcoat's passion and energy. That team has a bright future together.
