xXx (2002)

D: Rob Cohen
S: Vin Diesel, Samuel L. Jackson

Cheerfully ridiculous action flick blending the familiar hi-octane hijinks of James Bond with the anti-establishment trappings of Nikita all wrapped up in a cosy hyperbolic compound of big budget Hollywood mayhem. The film is a strange mixture of demagoguery, franchise initiation, and self parody; a genuine child of the postmodern comfortable with its own disconnection from even the faintest semblance of originality.

Freelance thrillseeker Vin Diesel (Pitch Black) specialises in broadcasting high profile illegal pranks over the internet Jackass style, usually to highlight some quasi-political cause or other. He comes to the attention of scarred NSA operative Samuel L. Jackson (Changing Lanes), who, having already lost several men to an evil European baddie, recruits the antisocial Diesel into service in the name of the forces of democratic capitalism. After an extended training sequence which seems to have walked straight out of some 1980s 'leave no man behind' B movie with Chuck Norris, our man Vin wades into beautiful Prague dripping with weaponry and attitude to helm several even more generically familiar action adventure scenes.

xXx offers nothing new in genre terms, nor would anyone expect it to. The film prides itself upon familiarity, playing upon the expectations of an audience long acquainted with the basic characters, components, and narrative structure of this kind of film. All it brings to the party is a reckless belief in its own inanity, a determination to hurtle down the snow-covered mountain just ahead of the computer-generated avalanche and hit the audience squarely between the eyes with its oh so savvy sense of its own absurdity. If you don't have an idea, have an angle. If you don't have an angle, have an attitude. xXx is all about attitude: about wearing your tattoos with a wry, self-satisfied grin and throwing in every hip element of contemporary postmodern culture which teenage boys and other adolescents will enjoy both in themselves and as part of one big double bluff of cultural appropriation.

As far as its technical qualities are concerned, the film is impressively done. Director Rob Cohen demonstrates his usual firm hand over genre material (Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, Dragonheart, The Fast and The Furious) and organises several big action scenes as well as might be expected with this budget and this level of technical expertise on hand. He seems to be having lots of fun with it, which is good, but the director never demonstrates an ability to see beyond the snigger-up-the-sleeve variety of self parody. In the hands of the likes of Brian De Palma, we have already seen how genre material like Mission: Impossible can be turned into a cinematic game which adds spice to our responses by playing with our perceptions. Cohen has enough energy and basic ability to shrug his cinematic shoulders at the rash of cliches which spread all over this script, but in spite of the superficial presence of 'counter' culture (or is that 'counter top' culture?) lifestyles, products (!), and characters, not to mention a villain allegedly motivated by anarchist politics (like Robert Carlyle in The World is Not Enough ), this is a film which is thoroughly immersed in the conservative mainstream and loves every minute of it. Subversive it is not.

xXx is enlightened enough to include a gadget freak supporting character who describes one of his own devices as every boy's dream (x-ray binoculars), giving the audience as many clues as it needs to see the film for what it is. It is not quite casual enough to allow snickering at its hero though, whose absolute unflappability is central to the 'attitude' upon which it is carefully structured. In the leading role Diesel is commanding and convincing (insofar as it goes: we're not talking dramatic realism here). The scenery of Prague is very nice (given something of a sombre sub-text by the subsequent flooding which destroyed many of the locations used for filming), and the pace is hectic enough to prevent your cerebellum seizing up from recording contrivances and loopholes. By the time the movie reaches its preposterous climax (populated with scientists so dumb that they seem to have failed to realise their boss is a Bondian megalomaniac and will undoubtedly test his killer chemicals on them just as soon as they are finished making them for him and featuring a chemical weapon which can be neutralised by water which is mounted for delivery on... guess what: a submarine...) you are either with it or you are not, and there is no middle ground. xXx is dumb summer fun to be digested and egested in one sitting. A second serving is inevitable though, which may be more than is strictly necessary to get the point.

Review by Harvey O'Brien PhD. copyright 2002.