BROKEN CITY (Allen Hughes). 109 minutes. Opens Friday (January 18). See listings. Rating: NN
Corrupt city officials, dirty cops, alcoholism, infidelity, scandal and violence: these qualities should define good hardboiled thrills, but recent star-packed crime movies have offered little in the way of entertainment or intrigue. Broken City, Mark Wahlberg’s latest grit-free exercise in genre dullness, is no exception.
Wahlberg stars as Billy Taggart, a once dirty cop who got away with murder and now spends his time photographing cheating housewives as a P.I. Hired to do just that by Russell Crowe’s slick Mayor Hostetler, who suspects his wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones) of cheating, Billy quickly discovers dirty backdoor deals lining wealthy pockets at the expense of the poor.
Nothing is what it seems, except for Brian Tucker’s derivative screenplay that plays out about as poorly and predictably as possible (minus a cheesy subplot involving Wahlberg’s actor girlfriend’s “first indie film.”) This is director Allen Hughes first solo feature without twin brother Albert, and while the duo consistently struggled to match the raw intensity of their debut, Menace II Society, clearly splitting up was not the solution.
You can predict the quality of a Wahlberg movie by the first few minutes of his performance. If he creates a distinct character or even an accent, he obviously cares and something good is coming if he merely alternates from hangdog pouting to strained smiles, as he does here, the movie is in trouble.
The rest of the cast appears equally bored, yet Crowe, with his silly New Yawk accent and a plastic doll haircut, manages to convey the most complete lack of interest in the project.
Broken City isn’t the worst movie any of these people have made. It’s just so thoroughly mediocre and tired that you’ll feel like a concerned parent: not mad, just disappointed.
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