Review
Review Date: 13-July-03
Spoiler Rating: Low
Juju Judgment: Junk
Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle (2003)
I was surprised to read while on vacation that "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle" opened weakly, leaving industry insiders stumped as to what had happened to a franchise many believed was about to hit its stride. Having enjoyed the first "Angels" movie and being a fan of producer/star Drew Barrymore, I was eager to go out and show my support for the girls who put their bikinis on the line in the name of truth, justice, and stupid cinematic fun. But now that I have spent six bucks and 100 minutes on "Full Throttle," I find that it behooves me to say: Tank away, Angels! Your latest sucks.
Rumor has it that the original "Angels" movie (2000) was filmed without a script; director McG and his stars just sort of made it up as they went. Many people pointed to evidence of this with criticism, but the sequel suggests that it may have been a strong point. Whereas the first movie built up a silly, likable charm as it loped along its meandering way, "Full Throttle" suffers from chronic symptoms of a strained attempt to be everything for everybody: a hip, funny, sexy, campy, knock 'em-sock 'em examination of the various pressures put on women marketable to male and female, black and white, young and . . . less young. Although there is a plot involving the FBI's Witness Protection Program, it's so mired in unnecessary side stories and cameos involving Bruce Willis, Crispin Glover, John Cleese, Luke Wilson, Matt LeBlanc, and others (i.e., every man in this movie is superfluous) that the story is as inconsequential as in the first movie, but feels a lot less breezy.
Not only is the spontaneity gone, but "Full Throttle" lacks all semblance of creativity. The movie is made up of three types of scenes — action, T&A, and comedy — and clearly no brain cells were used in the making of any of them. None of the Angels' chases, shootouts, or hand-to-hand combats comes close to Barrymore's memorable defeat of a host of burly thugs while to tied a chair which was the high point of the original film. McG, at the helm again, obviously feels that he's running with the big boys of the action movie world, but his forced attempt at a kinetic style comes off as derivative and amateurish. (News Flash, Dude: Time to reload; "The Matrix" was so '90s!) The cuts here, both in the stop-action sequences and between whole scenes, douse even the most ardent desire to suspend disbelief and narrative standards in the pursuit of summertime escapism. Put bluntly, a lot of what goes on makes absolutely no sense. As far as the jiggle appeal of the movie goes, the lovely threesome dons a slew of revealing and amusing outfits for the delectation of the audience, but they're all pretty run-of-the-mill (strippers and naughty nuns — how original!). That may be forgivable, but the truly horrendous comedic parts of "Full Throttle" are not. Irish "jokes" about shamrocks, leprechauns, and potatoes? Muumuu-clad black mommas browbeating their adult sons? It doesn't get much worse than that.
As further proof that the movie has problems, the most appealing member of the cast this time around is Lucy Liu, a pretty woman with all the warmth and vivacity of a Grape Nut. She isn't in the least convincing when she giggles and cuddles to indicate girl-bonding affection, but her native steeliness gives her a protective dignity which her co-stars lack (and the running gag between her and Cleese is the only bit of humor that approaches success). Cameron Diaz, who made about $20 million for this picture as the expected headliner, is given absolutely nothing to do that she didn't already do in the first movie, and she has either matured or aged beyond the point where the ditzy blonde thing works; consequently, she appears to be straining as much as McG to come up with something entertaining. (News Flash, Honey: Lay off the cigarettes! Your body may look 20, but your skin looks twice as old.) Barrymore, adorable and refreshingly curvaceous though she is, is hampered by a dull storyline involving old insecurities and a vindictive ex-boyfriend. And as for the two new, highly publicized additions to the mix: Demi Moore does what she can with the bitch role, but we've seen her kind a million times before, and the new Bosley, Bernie Mac . . . well, the less said about his embarrassing turn as Charlie's Jester — a rolling-eyed, low-IQ, shambling man-child — the better.
"Full Throttle" should have been a cheeky, high energy romp, but instead it's a noisy, tedious mess. Maybe the reason it doesn't work is that, contrary to Hollywood wisdom, it shouldn't have tried to top the original. You can't force true charm, energy, or sex appeal — you just have to let them happen.
Copyright © 2003 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.
