There is little of the old Guy Ritchie to be found in OPERATION FORTUNE: RUSE DE GUERRE. That Guy Ritchie delivered crackling editing, provocative visual impunity, and dialogue that burned with self-reflexive irony. They were films that all but defied gravity as they rushed headlong through their paces leaving audiences breathless and invigorated.
I miss that Guy Ritchie.
What he has given us here is not edgy, nor stylish, nor particularly fun, despite a promising start as Nathan (Cary Elwes) strides through a posh ministry building with the elegance of Old School privilege and shadow government authority while being intercut with a nasty bit of larceny and murder. Even the dialogue between him and his superior, Knighton (Eddie Marsan), has a whiff of the old Ritchie as they perform the necessary exposition to launch the flick. Something important has been stolen, though no one knows what, and no one knows by whom, but some particularly infamous types are bidding on it and so the British Government is interested in solving that mystery. Thence is what can best be described as, and I shudder as I type this, conventional. Adamantly conventional. So conventional, in fact, that I found myself hoping that Mr. Ritchie was making some sort of statement about conventionality that would pay off at some point. It’s called grasping at straws.
Back to OF:RDG. Reluctantly.
Nathan, unofficially, is tasked with finding the MacGuffin using the independent contractor everyone loves to hate. That would be Orson Fortune (Jason Statham), a quirky mercenary — he’s agoraphobic, claustrophobic, and an oenophile of the most refined caliber — who can’t be stopped once he’s been launched on an assignment. He also hates working but will, of course, be convinced by the fact that his country needs him. This being Jason Statham, he can also do the impossible when it comes to taking out adversaries and make it look not only simple but also inevitable. Plus, he never breaks a sweat or even breathes hard after dispatching anyone (or several anyones) foolish enough to get in his way. It’s why we go to see Jason Statham movies and why, (digression alert) when talking to me several years ago, Patton Oswalt stated (listen here) that Jason Statham can make any movie better. He was, and is, of course correct, the which has never been so well demonstrated as in this misfire. Not that he saves it, but he does give us something fabulous to watch.
The only thing that really gets to Orson is the American, Sarah (Aubrey Plaza), the requisite computer whiz with a great deal of personality forced on him by Nathan. Alas, Mr. Ritchie gives the very talented Ms. Plaza a decidedly mixed bag when it comes to showing off that personality, from a sly Brady Bunch reference to some puns and punch lines that are best described as strained. Ms. Aubery’s screen persona, cultivated over many years and projects, rises above it.
The story, a perfunctory matter designed only to showcase Statham’s physicality and deadpan delivery in different situations, involves a super-rich arms dealer, Greg (Hugh Grant at his most charmless), and a rival contractor, Mike (Peter Ferdinando), competing with Orson to retrieve the McGuffin, here known as The Handle. It is the usual spy/caper flick that unfolds in several exotically scenic locales. There are sinister Slavic types loitering with intent, complicated hand-offs and surreptitious tailings in those scenic locales, and even a car chase with helicopters because why not?
At the requisite fancy party on Greg’s yacht, Orson dangles a pompous movie star (Josh Harnett) in front of Greg, who is the pompous star’s biggest fan. Ms. Plaza, delightful in bright red haute couture, is the putative girlfriend that Greg, according to plan, will attempt to woo. Really, of course, she’s there to plant bugs and hack Greg’s phone in ways that would in other circumstances be close and awkward calls. As a computer whiz, Sara is uncertain. When crashing firewalls and decrypting files remotely from compromised electronics, she’s aces. When she finds it necessary to sit at Greg’s desk after she’s compromised the computer there, you wonder why she would need to be there in person when her laptop would do the trick.
It’s that kind of script.
By the time we discover what was stolen and by whom, it’s hard to care anymore, though it’s nice to see the team’s jack-of-all-trades JJ (Bugzy Malone) being given more to do towards the end besides cracking wise from the sidelines. He even has the distinction of delivering the film’s best, most Old Ritchie line. It was like rubbing salt in the wound.
The cleverest thing about OPERATION FORTUNE: RUSE DE GUERRE is the resemblance of a film producer to Harvey Weinstein. The twist, and the only one that really lands in this otherwise lethargic exercise, is that this producer could be shamed. Otherwise, what we have here has all the excitement and color of Nathan’s gluten- and lactose-free breakfast consumed while he tags along with the operatives on their mission, and none of the cinematic nourishment.
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