Call this “chainsaws on a plane”, and you will not be far from the brand.
Of course, to be completely exact, there is only one cutting tool focused on power put to fatal use in “Fight or Flight”, the action comedy scandalously and often on the top of director James Madigan and often on the top up to par, then dialogue up to 11 during a transpacific flight on a Hamais passenger plane.
But there are failures of other sharp objects used as armaments – including the beaks of jets and the flakes of wine glasses – as well as knives, swords, darts based on drugs and even seat belt loops, to say nothing about traditional artillery than glocks and assault weapons. (No snakes, however.) If you are wondering how many budding murderers have managed to get so many of these things after the airport safety, especially after being stopped for trying to get on a domestic flight with a bottle of shampoo in your hand luggage, well, you might be a little too logical to fully appreciate the “combat or leakage”
The film begins with an ultra-violent flash which serves both as a diligence warning and a trailer to come. We see in a Slo-Mo sequence with a “Blue Danube Waltz” soundtrack at all nods of the furious altercations with each other, launching punches and pulling weapons, kung-fu fights and, yes, the section of the chainsaw.
But if you listen carefully, you can almost hear Madigan promise: “You haven’t seen anything yet!”
Things calm down a little – temporarily, at least – like a title “12 hours earlier” appears on the screen, and we are soon presented to Lucas Reyes (Josh Hartnett, impressive and grungy), an ex -American gap that looks very much like something that the cat has dragged, reconsidered and brought back outside. He collapsed on the rear bench in a motorized pedicab on a street in Bangkok, dressed in what we can only assume that the same freight pants and the Hawaiian shirt that he brought for, oh, perhaps about a week. Just in case we do not grasp the depth of his downhill status after giring the last content of a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, he heads for a neighboring bar for lunch.
“If I die in your bar,” said Reyes to the deprocusal owner, “you can sell my organs to pay my tab.” The owner shakes his head with disapproval, then replies: “I don’t think they are worth what they were.”
It turns out that Reyes is our old friend, the former agent’s agent (in this case, a former secret service agent) who drinks his way through an extended exile after a disastrous mission, and is not particularly in a hurry and to go home. He is woken up from his self -destructive debauchery only when he receives a call from the supervisor from an unnamed agency, Katherine Brunt (Katee Sackhoff, attractive), who happens to be her former lover.
Brunt offers Reyes a chance of buyout – as well as a huge pay check, a new passport and a withdrawal from the list of the United States without a fly – if he agrees to get on a jumbo size passenger plane a few hours from takeoff in San Francisco. Its impossible mission: locate “the ghost”, a mysterious “terrorist of the black hat” which would be one of the passengers. Notice, nobody has any idea what the terrorist looks like, and it is quite doggone to some does not wish to be located. But, hey, the people of Brunt know that the ghost has recently been injured and travels alone, so they should not be too difficult to find. And in addition, Reyes does not have to kill the ghost – just bring them back alive.
Of course, none of this goes as planned.
The first complication occurs when another Passenger Lace La Boisson de Reyes with a sedative, then transports it to the luxury classroom to finish it. Instead, a fight follows, since Reyes is far from being unconscious: high long -term consumption of alcohol obviously makes it safe from almost something less from a ball to the head. (“I guess you cannot correct a pickle,” he said, marveling with his own sustainability.) Indeed, after having exterminated his potential, he simply forces himself to throw the sedative by giving off a bottle of liquid hand soap. Then he is back on foot, although trembling.
Reyes’ supernatural resilience limits Reyes quickly becomes a fun racing gag in a film that plays like the Loney Tunes animated the most splashing ever made. And it is a good thing that our hero is more indestructible than Wile E. Coyote, because he quickly learns that (a) the whole aircraft is filled with assassins wishing to collect a bonus on the ghost, and (b) these same assassins were lower than what it looks like.
Helped only by surprisingly small personnel of the on -board agents who includes the courageous Isha (Charithra Chandran) and the Anxious Royce (Danny Ashok), Reyes engages in a series of fatal fights which deteriorates in first class, while the passengers who are not hired killers do not hide the damage.
There are moments when it seems that Madigan and the Brooks McLaren and DJ Cotrona writers simply invent things as you go, simply providing a rudimentary link from an ultra-cinetic action part with the jaw. Little by little, however, a method to their madness emerges, especially when we finally learn which organization the severe weight that works.
Chaos is so caricatured that it arouses much more laughter than dressings. But there are also some non -violent punchlines in the mixture. A nice touch: the pilots, who know what is happening behind their locked cockpit door, imagine that they will be greeted like heroes like Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger if they manage to win the plane.
But wait, there is more: at one point, the murderers align themselves like the Slappers in “Airplane!” To take a crack at their target. At another time, Reyes over-medicated with adrenaline, to the point of hallucinating that the rescue trio of the ghost of bodyguards dressed in kimono is women warriors loaned by a vintage epic of martial arts shaw brothers.
In the end, it is extremely doubtful that all this would work almost as well as without Hartnett at the center of the storm, anchoring bloody chaos and creating an interest rooted with a performance defined by propulsive physicity, the enthusiasm of industrial force and the tireless, even use, to be repeated the end of the joke.
It would be difficult to recall another recent example of an actor expressing such joy in what he does on the screen. Perhaps Hartnett celebrates his current career return, or maybe it is just thrilled to be immersed in such a pandemonium of wire wire. Anyway, Harnett’s exaltation is wonderful to see – and very contagious.
