END OF WATCH B-
USA (109 mi) 2012
d: David Ayer
Television and the movie industry have been at odds ever since
the widespread convenience of owning televisions in every American household
became a reality in the 1950’s, where for literally decades television has been
in a catch up mode following behind the latest technological and artistic
advancements which separate the two mediums, but in the last decade, certainly
since the advent of cable channels which don’t edit language, violence, or
sexual content, television has actually been leading the way when it comes to the
popularity of cops shows, consistently utilizing better scripts, actors, and
quality of content. While occasionally
films rise to unprecedented heights, such as HEAT (1995), SE7EN (1995), LA
CONFIDENTIAL (1997), THE DEPARTED (2006), or ZODIAC (2007), they are countered
by The Sopranos (1999 – 2007), The Wire (2002 – 2008), The Shield (2002 – 2008), Dexter (2006 – present), or Southland (2009 – present), all of which
in a dozen or so episodes annually play out like an extended mini-series, where
the dramatic interest is sustained over a considerable length of time. Certainly it is the substantial success of
these shows that is pushing the development of this adrenaline-laced style of film,
from the writer of TRAINING DAY (2001) and THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS (2001), resorting
to a Starsky and Hutch (1975 – 1979) portrait
of likable cop partners, Brian Taylor (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Mike Zavala
(Michael Peña), sent out in their squad cars on a daily basis to catch the bad
guys, all set in the hyper-kinetic and crime-infested world of South Central
Los Angeles. It’s a gritty portrayal of
cops on the beat, expressed through constant motion with quick edits,
continuously frenetic hand-held camera movement and a machine-gun style of
profanity-laced, rapid fire dialogue, often finding humor in the ridiculous
predicaments they get themselves into, where they specialize in patrolling the
worst ghetto neighborhoods. If much of
this feels contrived, like the lawlessness of the Wild West, it attempts to use
the pervasive presence of violence to amp up the tension, creating a poisonous
atmosphere of gangbangers, malicious killers on the loose, and even the drug
cartels from the Mexican underworld, as unlike the daily grind of real cops
where the routine can become suffocating, much of it spent in the mindless task
of filling out paperwork, these are cocky gunslingers looking for action, where
every hour of every day is spent seeking out new adventures.
Gyllenhaal and Peña work extremely well together, where you
get a good sense of increasingly developing interior character, as both can be goofballs
often playing pranks on their fellow cops, where their swaggering attitude
differentiates them from other teams of partners, often singled out for their
efforts in the field by their more hardened commanding officer Frank Grillo,
bringing a military SWAT team style to their everyday practice of
policework. This two man tandem have a
reckless feel about them, where they’re still young and just starting out,
where their confrontational practice of rubbing elbows and getting in-your-face
with notorious outlaws and gangsters seems too edgy, likely not the practice of
officers with longevity on the force who exercise more restraint. These guys come off as Reality TV cops, each
with cameras pinned to their vests watching every move they make, where Gyllenhaal
in particular is always talking to his camera in man-on-the-street interviews
or pointing it in someone’s face, where what’s on the screen often parallels
this raw police footage, often feeling unedited and rough-edged, a cop cam
providing a stream-of-conscious viewpoint.
In typical Hollywood vernacular, the bad guys are given picturesque
names that describe their personalities like Big Evil (Maurice Compte), Wicked
(Diamonique), or Tre (Cle Shaheed Sloan), the latter a hot-headed, two-time
felon who prefers taking the risk of standing up to cops rather than backing
down, actually going toe-to-toe with the shorter, but more bulldog-like Mike
(without badge and weapons), which actually earns his respect, where fighting
cops barehanded, win or lose, is “gangsta.”
And therein lies the problem here, as the film is more interested in
establishing visceral, in-your-face action sequences than delving into the
mysteries or social dynamic of this deeply entrenched, poverty stricken world
around them, though Tre does express his concern that black neighborhood gangs
are being pushed out by Hispanic gangs.
This movie elevates cops to the status of sheriffs in the Wild West,
always seen as noble heroes, where the moral line is never crossed or in
question, as people are instead good guys or bad guys. Unlike BOYZ N THE HOOD (1991), for example,
the audience learns absolutely nothing about growing up in the South Central
neighborhood where every day is a moral dilemma.
The film has a token use of women, where the one-dimensional
Anna Kendrick is Brian’s girl, whose best scene is a PULP FICTION (1994) dance
tribute, while Natalie Martinez as Mike’s wife has a fiercer attitude, where
they are written into the script as a softer counterbalance to the feverish
intensity of the streets where these guys are close to action figures. Overly reverential towards the police, giving
them a stature in the community they don’t deserve, as LA cops are notoriously abusive
and corrupt, this film never questions their moral actions or duties, giving instead
a fairly adolescent and somewhat fantasy view of what it is to be a cop. So it’s the script, written by the director
who spent his teenage years in South Central, that ultimately falls short,
failing to connect gangsters and drug lords to the world from which they came,
instead exploiting their nastiness as hideously murderous and grotesque, often
making them larger than life foul caricatures, even as several of the gangsters
onscreen are played by actual LA gangbangers.
The near screwball comic timing of these two knuckleheads in the patrol
car can be outrageously funny, accentuating their close rapport throughout, often
making fun of each other’s distinctively different white and Mexican cultures,
as it’s their personalities that really carry the picture, along with a few of
the gangsters, especially Tre and Big Evil. The director maintains a fluid and
kinetic flow throughout, turning much of this into an exhilarating thrill ride,
but that’s hardly the life of a real cop, as these two prima donnas flaunt
their cowboy personas in the face of their fellow cops, not exactly endearing
camaraderie or admiration. The director
also uses horror elements to accentuate fear, like walking into dark and empty
corridors just waiting for something to jump out at them, where despite their
arrogance, he uses these two officers as innocents walking into the lair of the
beast, continually discovering something they haven’t anticipated. While the film’s aesthetic is gripping and
tense, where danger lurks around every corner, this is also a trigger happy
exposé on how cops disregard humanity and destroy community relations while
ironically spending a lot of talk about loyalty and heroism. These guys are military style killing
machines that routinely trample on the rights of others, busting in with guns
flailing, continually pointing their guns in people’s faces, making threats, attempting
to match the hostility of their adversaries, all of which represents a very
short-sighted view of policework, much of which depends upon the cooperation of
local residents, never once considering the long term harm of their actions, as
inhabitants of any neighborhood, rich or poor, would soon loathe their disrespecting
commando recklessness.
