Bulletproof Monk (2003)
director: paul hunter
cast: chow yun-fat, seann william scott, jamie (james) king, karel roden, victoria smurfit, chris collins, mike dopud, patrick hagarty, karis han, suresh john, mako, marcus j. pirae, angela seto
It
was hard trying to catch a nap during Bulletproof Funk, not because it
was that good, but because it was that bad. It was worse than sitting through
a badly translated kung fu film. I should have known when I saw that Paul Hunter,
a music video director, was responsible for this Canadian ghetto version of
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. Paul Hunter and his producers (which include
John Woo) must have pitched this film like an ace pitcher after reconstructive
surgery. Chow Yun-Fat is "no name" (a rip-off of the Clint Eastwood
movies), a martial arts monk during the W.W.II/Nazi era. The monastery's master
gives "no name" longevity and a sacred scroll that looks like an ornate
toilet paper roll. "No name" must protect the roll because if it falls
into the wrong hands, unlimited power would be theirs (Raiders of the Lost
Ark). The Nazis invade the Canadian Buddhist monastery and Indy… I
mean, "no name" flees to the future. We jump 60 years to contemporary
Canada where Fat looks for a sucker-ass protégé, Seann William
Scott, to pass the toilet paper (sacred scroll) onto so he can go on a presumably
well deserved permanent vacation.
This unlikely team-up is just as it seems. We're hitting a Canadian Dragon Hidden Plot in the face with a dirty American Pie. Though "no name" Fat seeks to pass the toilet paper to the next stall, the script has a hard time making any sense of it, complete with appalling dialog to cement the relationship between East-meets-pie-crust. Bulletproof Monk then introduces an ass-kicking Russian mob daughter (James King) to fill-in as Seann Scott's love interest in another unlikely match without chemistry (she would use this goof-ball as a toothpick). But the end-all is when the Nazi commander from the beginning of the story is reintroduced as a decrepit and wheel chair-bound archenemy. As we all know, nothing is more sinister than an invalid. The old Nazis totes his fine-looking Aryan daughter along to do all of his dirty work (Indiana Jones & the Last Crusade). The dirty work unfortunately was the paper this script was smeared on. The old Nazis dude wants the scroll to restore his youth and to achieve world domination (meine fuhrer!).
So
who do you blame this wickedly inept movie on? First you have to start with
the producers adapting the Flypaper Press comic book (2.00). Then you have to
blame MGM for attaching a first time director (Hunter) to direct a 52 million
dollar flick. His strongest credit is directing the Lenny Kravitz music video
American Woman. Paul Hunter stumbled into a bear trap. Few music video
directors make the leap from "visuals only" to "story and plot".
Michael Bey, F. Gary Gray, and Brett Ratner made the transition, but the bear
trap swallows another victim with Hunter's booty-fodder of a first feature film.
Producers of Monk profess that the special effects were created by Boy
Wonder Effects (Burt Ward is responsible for the effects in this flick—I
kid you not). These too were unimpressive and couldn't defibrillate this flat-liner.
Don't waste your time. I'm zipping up the body-bag, now, so move along, there's
nothing to see here.—MoJo
Shakespeare
$0.24
© 2003 Hollywood Outsider™