The A-Team Movie Review (2010)
Directed by Joe Carnahan
Writing credits
Joe Carnahan, Brian Bloom & Skip Woods (screenplay)
Frank Lupo & Stephen J. Cannell (television series "The A-Team")
Major Cast Members
Liam Neeson as Col. John 'Hannibal' Smith
Bradley Cooper as Lt. Templeton 'Faceman' Peck
Jessica Biel as Charisa Sosa
Quinton 'Rampage' Jackson as Cpl. Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus
Sharlto Copley as Murdock
Patrick Wilson as Lynch
Anyone looking for a cinematic masterpiece will be disappointed by The A-Team. This film would give Michael Bay a raging chubby. There is very little character depth, the plot is laughable, and the action sequences are implausible on an incomprehensibly mammoth scale. The plot-holes are so massive that not even light can escape them. By any quantifiable measure, The A-Team is truly an awful film, and I thoroughly enjoyed viewing it.
How is that possible? How can I -- the self-proclaimed champion of celluloid guilty pleasures -- thoroughly enjoy a truly horrible film? Well isn’t that pretty much what I do? Hell, I raved about the first Transformers film, and I gave Dewey Cox generally positive reviews (The lesson: always consider the source of information.) While I recognize the conventional values that films are judged by, my personal standards for being entertained by a movie aren’t as regimented or sophisticated.
Turning my attention back to this recent “guilty pleasure”; for the viewer to glean any enjoyment from The A-Team, they must:
A. Have a vested nostalgic attachment to the original 80’s era action series, The A-Team, which itself was a cheesy, implausible, cornball affair.
B. Enjoy dudes beating the crap out of other dudes, gratuitous explosions, and sexual tension that has no earthly business being thrown into violently tense situations (Examples off the top of my head: Roadhouse, Shaft (1971 and 2000 versions), any James Bond film.)
C. Possess the ability to grab logic by the scruff of the neck and throw it into the corner like Baby from Dirty Dancing, allowing one’s own I.Q. to drop 40 points for at least 120 minutes (alcohol acts as a PED here.)
The A-Team’s synopsis is the same as the 80’s original series: a group of covert operatives are arrested and convicted of crimes they didn’t commit. They all escape from maximum-security prisons and go on a crusade to clear their names. Granted, that’s about as straight-forward and implausible as a film about jousting werewolves riding velociraptors, but anyone who shows up to a screening of The A-Team for the plot is obviously missing the point.
Picking Nits
Obviously, there are plenty of glaring cinematic issues that detract from The A-Team as a whole. Hannibal’s “plans” (loosely-connected thought-bubbles relying on random events and an ass-load of luck) always “coming together” somehow. “Flying” a tank by directing rounds from the main-turret. Face’s batshit-crazy plan at the film’s climax that was so random and full of holes that it seemed as if the writers created it by playing a triple-elimination game of mad-libs. In fact, the majority of the action sequences consisted of the four-man team running roughshod through each shot “Leroy Jenkins-style” surrounded by auras of obscenely good luck like they were playing Halo with invincibility cheat-codes. In other words, it was exactly like the T.V. show.
But while the flying tank and the other things that made no physical or logical sense were easily overlooked by reasons A, B, and C above, Bradley Cooper sauntering about shirtless for about 45 agonizing minutes was not. Sure, women readers will immediately shout “shenanigans”, chide me for being a hater, and point out my double-standards as a cheesecake aficionado. Valid points and I concede them all. I am a hater. I have a big, round belly, and I am green with envy. I admit that freely. I will also admit that I gave the first Transformers film an “A” based on Peter Cullen’s voice-acting, shiny robots blowing shit up and killing the crap out of one another, and the novelty of Megan Fox’s doe-eyes, pouty-lips, and sweaty midriff (At that point in her career, I was convinced that her sweat tasted like a vintage brandy or a honey glaze.)
But my main problem with the whole Cooper Eye-Candy thing was that it was so contrived and obvious that I almost mistook him for the historically attention-whoring Jean-Claude Van-Damme. Did Cooper barter for his peck-time? How would that discussion have gone on? I could see Cooper hashing-out his abs’ screen-time with the writers:
Cooper: “OK guys, I got it; what if, as Hannibal breaks me out of prison, a guard gets tipped-off and shoots up my blender, drenching me in Mango juice…”
Joe Carnahan: “Go on…”
Cooper: “Then, I try to run, but what do you know? My shirt gets caught in the blender!”
Brian Bloom: “I think I like where this is going…”
Cooper: “As I jerk away, the blender turns on, ripping my shirt asunder, leaving me bare-chested and glistening, vulnerable to the guard’s attacks and veiled sexual advances!”
Skip Woods: “I dunno… how about we scratch that scene completely and just have Hannibal smuggle you out of prison while you’re sunning your magnificent abs in a portable tanning booth?”
Cooper: “Dude! Even better!”
Carnahan: “I vote for the tanning booth.”
Bloom: “I admit, I liked the glistening chest covered in mango-sauce better, but I’ll go with the majority. Tanning butter it is!”
I get it. He’s supposed to be Face – the smooth-talking con-man who is also a ladies’ man. But the whole sexy-mugging thing didn’t feel connected with the rest of the film, sort of like Samuel L. Jackson randomly showing up as Nick Fury in Iron Man 2. I suppose I should count my blessings though; with Quinton “Rampage” Jackson being a current MMA athlete, they could’ve also cashed in on his physique and had B.A. Baracus and Face embark on a “Chippendales Mission”.
Oh Lord, I just gave them an idea for a sequel.
The Grades
Story: Even when grading on a curve, come on now; it’s film adaptation of an 80’s action series that included one-liners, formulamatic plots, over-the-top explosions, and cartoon-like violence that never seemed to hurt anyone. Hamlet, this is not. Grade: D+
Acting: Quinton “Rampage” Jackson is surprisingly engaging, authentic, and likeable as B.A. Baracus. Liam Neeson seemed to channel George Peppard through his performance as Hannibal. Bradley Cooper, always good at playing a believable smarmy douchecanoe, plays a decent con-artist. And the crazy guy who played Murdock stole a scene or two. Grade: B+
Visuals: Chaotic, nonsensical action sequences? Check. B.A. pitying several fools into traction? Check. Machine guns firing wildly everywhere, hitting everything except for any A-Team members? Check. Explosions everywhere, with giant metal objects falling all over the place, narrowing missing every A-Team member on the screen? Check. Tank-flying? Check. Evading heat-seeking missiles by cutting the engines of a helicopter while in flight? Check (Check-plus for the screen-writers blatantly flipping-off the laws of physics.) Bradley Cooper’s abs getting more screen-time than B.A.’s Mohawk? Check-minus. Grade: B-
Originality/Innovation: Come on. Seriously? If you thought this idea was original, just wait until we get to see the Live-action Smurfs. Grade: D
Enjoyability Grade: For anyone who fondly recalls Mr. T waxing poetically about fools talking nonsense and getting out of his face with the jibber-jabber, this film is guilty-pleasure approved. Grade: A
Date Material: Meh. If you can handle your wife/girlfriend ogling Cooper for two hours without burning down the theatre, you are a stronger man than I. Grade: C+
Contemporary Element (Will it be watchable two decades from now?): I’d call this an event film, similar to a theme park ride. Will it stand the test of time? Somehow, I doubt it. Grade: D
Overall Grade: C-
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