This film was shot in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, but a TV newsman identifies it as Los Angeles. Why would the writers lie so openly? The city square in which Linda Fiorentino is handcuffed to a bomb-laden hot dog stand and frets simultaneously in the cross hairs of a sniper rifle, looks nothing like Los Angeles. The location here is wet, cold, full of naked deciduous trees, and at mid-day the sun is lower than it ever is in Los Angeles. The police patrol cars are labeled "Metropolitan Police." I'm not deeply in love with Southern California and its rampant anomi, but if you're shooting a movie in Vancouver or Toronto, why not label the city? Show its landmarks, use real street names, introduce some local color? Be PROUD, Oh Canada! Because otherwise, what you get is what you see here -- a faceless urban setting full of generic urbanites.
Well, I'm glad I was able to get that off my chest. I'd like to thank you all for reading that uncrafted expression of exasperation so carefully. Thank you. And I'd like to thank my parents, who made it all possible.
Speaking of rants, the movie has a slight anti-National-Rifle-Association slant, or so it seemed, because so many of life's evils, from school house slaughters to back-room BJs in the White House, are attributed to a misinterpretation of the second amendment.
That's where Linda Fiorentino comes in. She's being held hostage in a public square because she's married to an international gun dealer who has corrupted half of the legislature, and she's been wheeling and dealing in illegal gun trades too. She's a self-indulgent, arrogant woman. I was glad when her captive told her to undress in the public square. It was GOOD to see her humiliated like that, but I wish she had turned around and faced the camera.
The guy at the other end of the bullet trajectory is Wesley Snipes, whose daughter was killed during one of those school room massacres. He's out not just for revenge on the gun dealers. He wants a confession on national television about the corrupt relations between gun manufacturers, politicians, and the CIA.
The plot could lead to an exceedingly static and boring situation -- a woman shackled to a hot dog stand, a man covering her with a rifle, and a lot of talk. But it holds up because, however murky all the machinations and motives are, the screenplay has enough jolts of adrenalin built into it that the viewer is kept alert.
We grow to feel some pity for Snipes because of the manner of his daughter's death. That's a serious matter, although not as serious as my son's never having shown any interest in a medical career. Yet Snipes is no angel. He kills people in cold blood. First he nails a cop. "He was addicted and on the take." (So he deserve to be shot to death? Be sure to lock your door at night.) Then he shoots and kills a cheerful and innocent TV reporter for the sin of being born to a father who is corrupt. Wow.
Much depends on the acting of the two principals and, a bit surprisingly, they're both pretty much up to the job. Abject resignation has never been Snipes' forte. He's a fine physical actor. Here, though, he manages to make the character believable. Linda Fiorentino is certainly a piquant woman. Sex aside, she's usually the one in command, like Snipes usually is. And that's how her character begins -- brusquely delivering orders over a cell phone. The real test comes towards the end, when she must project fear and guilt. She makes it, although a viewer can feel the tendons stretching, the ligaments popping, as she does so.
Another movie with an almost identical theme came out in the same year, "Phone Booth." It's either a case of what anthropologists call "independent invention" or what the rest of us call "cheating." If it's the latter, everyone involved in both productions should be shot to death.
Well, I'm glad I was able to get that off my chest. I'd like to thank you all for reading that uncrafted expression of exasperation so carefully. Thank you. And I'd like to thank my parents, who made it all possible.
Speaking of rants, the movie has a slight anti-National-Rifle-Association slant, or so it seemed, because so many of life's evils, from school house slaughters to back-room BJs in the White House, are attributed to a misinterpretation of the second amendment.
That's where Linda Fiorentino comes in. She's being held hostage in a public square because she's married to an international gun dealer who has corrupted half of the legislature, and she's been wheeling and dealing in illegal gun trades too. She's a self-indulgent, arrogant woman. I was glad when her captive told her to undress in the public square. It was GOOD to see her humiliated like that, but I wish she had turned around and faced the camera.
The guy at the other end of the bullet trajectory is Wesley Snipes, whose daughter was killed during one of those school room massacres. He's out not just for revenge on the gun dealers. He wants a confession on national television about the corrupt relations between gun manufacturers, politicians, and the CIA.
The plot could lead to an exceedingly static and boring situation -- a woman shackled to a hot dog stand, a man covering her with a rifle, and a lot of talk. But it holds up because, however murky all the machinations and motives are, the screenplay has enough jolts of adrenalin built into it that the viewer is kept alert.
We grow to feel some pity for Snipes because of the manner of his daughter's death. That's a serious matter, although not as serious as my son's never having shown any interest in a medical career. Yet Snipes is no angel. He kills people in cold blood. First he nails a cop. "He was addicted and on the take." (So he deserve to be shot to death? Be sure to lock your door at night.) Then he shoots and kills a cheerful and innocent TV reporter for the sin of being born to a father who is corrupt. Wow.
Much depends on the acting of the two principals and, a bit surprisingly, they're both pretty much up to the job. Abject resignation has never been Snipes' forte. He's a fine physical actor. Here, though, he manages to make the character believable. Linda Fiorentino is certainly a piquant woman. Sex aside, she's usually the one in command, like Snipes usually is. And that's how her character begins -- brusquely delivering orders over a cell phone. The real test comes towards the end, when she must project fear and guilt. She makes it, although a viewer can feel the tendons stretching, the ligaments popping, as she does so.
Another movie with an almost identical theme came out in the same year, "Phone Booth." It's either a case of what anthropologists call "independent invention" or what the rest of us call "cheating." If it's the latter, everyone involved in both productions should be shot to death.