Rating: B-
Dir: Michael Bay
Star: Martin Lawrence, Will Smith, Téa Leoni, Tchéky Karyo
Watching this, almost thirty years later, what stands out is how Smith plays both the straight man and second fiddle to Lawrence’s top banana. Since this came out, Will became arguably the world’s biggest movie star for a decade, before his reputation crashed in a welter of bad movies (After Earth), Oscar slaps and domestic troubles. Lawrence? Not so much. I couldn’t immediately tell you any non-Bad Boys movie of his since roughly… 2007? But at the time, his sitcom Martin was one of Fox’s highest rated shows, and it’s Lawrence who takes centre stage here. His married, working-class detective, Marcus Burnett, is paired with trust-fund playboy cop Mike Lowrey (Smith), in an archetypal mismatch of contrasting characters.
However, unlike some in the buddy cop genre, their relationship is already well-established. They bicker over the little things, but trust each other with their lives, and are at the point where Lowrey is “Uncle Mike” to Burnett’s kids. They have to investigate the theft of $100 million of seized heroin, stolen from a police vault by Fouchet (Karyo). They find a key witness, Julie (Leoni), but because… of reasons, she ends up thinking Burnett is Lowrey. They end up staying in Lowrey’s penthouse for her protection, while he lives with the Burnett family to sustain the deception. Meanwhile, as is traditional for the genre, Internal Affairs is circling menacingly, eventually resulting in the pair having just [insert time period] to solve the case.
I can’t say whether much of the plot was fresh or original at the time of release. Now, it certainly isn’t. However, neither is it particularly the point. We’re here for foul-mouthed banter, police procedures that skate the line of civil rights abuse, and – this being a Michael Bay movie – giant fireballs. Though it being his first, you can tell he’s still finding his feet as he transitions from music videos to narrative work. The ending, blowing up an aircraft hangar real good, definitely points toward things to come. Memo to self: if I ever become an evil drug overlord, I will not carry out deals in the same location where I store large barrels of ether or other flammable chemicals.
The other elements though are fine or better. Smith and Lawrence play off each other beautifully, to the point that their exchanged “I love you, man” lines at the end seem perfectly natural and reasonable, no homo. The script is kept lively by Bay allowing his cast to improvise, and the pair of leads are appealing across cultural boundaries, despite (or because of?) snarky lines like, “There’s too much bass in your voice. That scares white folks.” It helps they are made genuinely competent, Lowrey pointing out, “I’m the first guy through the door and I’m always the last one to leave the crime scene.” It all makes for the kind of slick, well-crafted and empty slice of entertainment, which Hollywood studios are perfectly equipped to create.