As far back as 2011, Walker’s name was roped into the Brick Mansions project, a reimagination of a French parkour film District: B13. Had it leapt into production at the right time, writer Luc Besson and commercial director Camille Delamarre’s overly specific copycats’ adaptation would be remembered the way the early seasons of the Fast & Furious franchise are prayerfully forgotten. But setbacks and the actions lead’s excessive death spoil critically Brick Mansions into a noisome condemnation of an impressive career in film, ie the last breaths of a dead horse.
The bulletproof appeal of Walker and parkour pioneer David Belle is crushed beneath the barrage of cbongeefx, and empty action, a cheap jibe. Walker may be dead and absent, but had he been from this world, we’d treat Brick Mansions as the boring couch for action stuffer. This tragedy is horrible, and because of that, this movie seems hostile.
Fast forward to the year 2018. Nothing beats shoving their hands in the air, watching as Detroit crumbles into leathery states, a class-marked populace tightly wrapped in sleazy politicians hoping that by some miracle the whole mess would sort itself out (that would never be the case). Grand estates which are home to the hucksters of the city have been enclosed into “Brick Mansions,” a post apocalyptic city ruled over by drug lord Tremaine معنی (RZA).
In a town where the good guys are bad guys and the bad guys are worst plotesayers, two men do not mind risking it all to rid Tremaine of the universe: Damien Walker,a cop posing as a criminal and seething with rage to avenge Tremaine who had killed his father and Lino Belle, the resident superhero of Brick Mansions who stops crime by intercepting cocaine trade. After Tremaine’s bribed law enforcers apprehend Lino, he sets out into the Brick Mansions together with Damien in order to fight Tremaine and if that doesn’t sound bad enough, disarm a ticking neutron bomb.
Brick Mansions seems to be overly stupid for no reason. There is an acceptance for silliness — parkour jumping, for instance, is hardly practical in the fight against bad guys, but we all know it is great on the big screen — but Besson and Delamarre cross the line when they have RZA quote Wu-Tang’s “C.R.E.A.M.” in the middle of appropriate dialogue. Did you understand that?
The lowest common denominator approach seeps into the film like a virus to its host; Walker’s Damien is a vacant character, a soldier this time around, and has been reduced to the role of boy scout fighting drug lords, having exaggerated conversations with his grandfather and belly flops into the senseless choreography of action that Delamarre creates. Lino is equally vanilla, this time round having a poorly developed, shrieking wilhelmina fed his boredom of play the nice guy by saddling him with an equally thin-yet-damsel in distress girlfriend english isla montano who spends most of her movie in chains. At least he can do parkour.
Motion picture depiction of events is so Lim doling out resources to Brick Mansions’ protagonists and the sympathy one would have for the black male disadvantaged youth meets within Assimilation-crime genre snythesis. Besson and Delamarre’s picture of Brick Mansions neighborhood is shallow and erm borderline racist containing as it did a patch work of ghetto embellishments which Tremaine’s brutish associates only added to. It’s two white protagonists who fight and eventually redeem big black men armed with automatic weapons.
A crass film in which the French filmmakers’ text intends to engage the audience’s opinion on issues of gentrification and alienation of minorities in the United States chooses to take a break y burying themselves in…oh hell, archaic rubbish, without threats, and without any stakes, if any, and very few vices. In fact, a very powerful actor in Tremaine’s role could have successfully bring out Tremaine’s brutal attitude along with his moral ambiguity. RZA is not that person. It is more than a little tragic that Walker is meant to act circles around RZA, who is mumbling Gary Oldman’s dialogue scenes that were ‘borrowed’ from Besson’s The Professional. The radiant Ayisha Issa, who plays heroine number two who is the sub of Tremaine, does not seem to figure anywhere soon, which is distressing considering her ferocity and sheer saltiness that should have made her number one. But Brick Mansions is not opened to a daring approach: a derringeuse.
All aberrations would be overlooked if Delamarre could simply freeze one amazing sequence worthy of all of us ignoring the tragedies of the Sunday Bezonomics. His methods are cannibalistic, every other clip lasting up to about 30 statistical ms, a patchwork of forms interchanged at the vegetative pace. A thrilling undercurrent is not acceptable in parkour which is about threatening the audience’s apathy towards action by sweeping them through visuals. Belle is a pro — and in an odd way he is – rather an actor than other co-stars of Walker from the series which carried furious modifier. Any and everything which can be shot in Delamarre’s hands is made into shredded paper when it comes to the stunt work. The thrill comes in when the scene upscales Walker’s attack, only to find he has a grey-matter that cannot match Belle’s bouncy antics and focuses on savage rage instead. That is a dynamic filmmakers save only as a tease.
Bolstered by the promise of a dog-eat-dog zone as an in-house docu-drama and a lawless prestidigitation, Brick Mansions is achingly tiresome in what is aggravated by Besson and Delamarre generic style. Walker is physically mobile and both gets asked collaring and stepping into a car or running out of the car and on to the streets to the usual death stare of his ascent: his enemies. In what appears to be an open embrace of its imitation, Besson’s writing takes a cue from the viral quote made famous by Fast & Furious: “We ride or we die!” It is the RZA that says that.
Brick Mansions is not as much of a franchise as a vast and furious subculture in the District: B13. Balsam Frady is also Uncle Tom and one more annoying thing. The Great American Parkour Epic remains unproduced, a little more than bared showing who the characters feel oh so good by the knickers, in case Delamarre ‘s dull.
Verdict
As a reboot, parkour rich Brick Mansions is a miasma of action bit that has little resonance apart from having the famed Paul Walker.
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