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10/21/02

Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Robert Carlyle, Emily Mortimer, Rhys Ifans, Meat Loaf, Sean Pertwee, Ricky Tomlinson, Michael Stark, Paul Barber, Steven Walters, Anna Keaveney
Directed by: Ronny Yu

Frank’s film tip: You won’t get terribly high off of Ronny Yu’s high-wire yet derivative drug bust action comedy “Formula 51”

Why should anybody give much credence to director Ronny Yu’s jacked-up and contrived action-comedy Formula 51? Also known as The 51st State across the ocean, Yu’s hip actioner is a strained and relentlessly flippant vehicle that strives for off-kilter coolness in its irreverent vibrancy. Formula 51 is achingly generic and tiresome with its ode to countless gimmicky filmmaking techniques that ranges from outrageously goofy stock characters posturing for the camera to the sheer formulaic action sequences that derive from this cockeyed crime-driven spectacle.

Formula 51 doesn’t even have the gumption to maintain its own distinctive identity. The movie shamelessly steals its inspiration from the stables of moviemaking misfits Guy Ritchie (“Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels”, “Snatch”) and Quentin Tarantino (“Pulp Fiction”) while never once capturing the rollicking swagger and madness that these filmmakers occasionally put forth with ease. Yu, one of the many Hong Kong moviemakers to crossover into western mainstream action flicks, has the humorous timing of a defective grandfather clock. All the insufferable antics being put forth (thoughtless racial jokes, forced catch phrases, canned hilarity, superficial frivolity, pointless plotlines) conjure up a steady derivative formula of nonsense with the tasty acceptance of sour skim milk.

Samuel L. Jackson, donning his trademark “badass black man cussing at the world” persona that moviegoers have come to embrace with giddy anticipation, plays American streetwise chemist Elmo McEloy out to sell his created brand of a “natural high” drug product. Enthusiastic to sell his exotic concoction, Elmo heads to England in hopes of pushing off his pharmaceutical discovery that is a rave drug supposedly 51 times stronger than any of the “oldies but goodies” substances such as cocaine, acid or ecstasy. This isn’t such bad idea to wander off to Europe for Elmo, especially when he duped his revengeful drug kingpin boss (Meat Loaf in a cartoonish villainous role) back in the States.

And so the crafty games begin to unfold starting with the obvious sight gag of the towering corn-row pated, golf-loving and kilt-wearing foul-mouthed pharmacist Elmo teaming up with an English underworld punkish and pint-sized errand boy (Robert Carlyle from “The Full Monty” and “Trainspotting”). Together, this devious duo wants us to engage in the meaningless and wayward mayhem that ensues in arbitrary fashion. The movie relishes haplessly in the standardized exorcise of belabored car chases, exaggerated explosions, routine gunplay, and shady characters all dressed up in colorful chaotic garb with no particular place to demonstrate their pseudo-intriguing exploits. Everyone involved in this twisted tale of Liverpool lackeys and the double-dealing deviance of this delirious drug-trading dud has a marvelous time chewing up the scenes with exhausting flamboyance. There’s nothing genuinely riotous about the manner in which one fiendish individual pops up after another in an effort to top the showboating sweepstakes. If you don’t have the obligatory femme fatale assassin (Emily Mortimer from “Lovely and Amazing”) displaying her seductive naughtiness then you can also cherish the creepy jitteriness in the overacting mode of Rhys Ifans (“Notting Hill”) as a sleazy drug dealer. And if you’re in the mood to soak up the ruthless ritual of a soulless law enforcer (Sean Pertwee) chasing the movie’s leading tricky twosome, then there’s another factitious angle to consider.

Formula 51 is a random afterthought thrown together in a string of meager moments meant to pass itself off as excitable, frothy action-packed cinema. Stel Pavlou’s sketchy screenplay doesn’t provide any meaty fiber to invigorate what amounts to be an implausible and flaccid showcase of
showy violence and other madcap monotony. The dialogue tries to be clever in its callousness but it often succumbs to the grating juvenile depths of a high school varsity football team’s locker room.

Usually when you cast an intense and talented rogue like Samuel L. Jackson in a volatile cocktail of a feature, his explosive nature reliably sizzles and carries a film in full throttle. But in Formula 51, Jackson is reduced to that of a prancing punchline in hostile territory where he’s forced to do ridiculous stunts such as swing golf clubs at doofus-minded skinheads. As an edgy actor, you always got the sense that Jackson was in control of the proceedings and one step ahead of the rest of the pack. Here, the performer is a mere victim of this tiring one-dimensional, frenzied farce that thinks it’s as slick as a Texan oil field.

One wouldn’t care less about the mindless aspect concerning Formula 51 had the movie bothered to add something new and uniquely creative to the ubiquitous action picture genre. As a frivolous entertainment, Yu’s brand of fast food foolishness is not appetizing enough to digest with the guiltiest of pleasures. Sure, this film has a gleeful approach that welcomes a saucy and sensationalistic overtone. But for the most part, the stagy indulgence of this stilted comedy crime caper is as enthralling as hoarding an unsuspecting person’s prescription pills and popping them as snack treats. Formula 51 is too busy at being cute with its transparent attention-getting ribaldry that causes nothing more than an indifferent chemical imbalance at best.

Frank rates this film: ** stars (out of 4 stars)