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Review Uploaded
11/15/02

1 hr. 39 mins.
Starring: Steven Seagal, Morris Chestnut, Ja Rule, Kurupt, Nia Peeples, Tony Plana, Bruce Weitz
Director: Don Michael Paul

Rating: * ½ stars (out of 4 stars)

Okay boys and girls, we’re going to take a multiple movie pop quiz. Are your pencils ready to go? Here goes: what does the term Half Past Dead refer to? Consider the following choices:

a. Is it another limp and tedious comeback action-pack flick for the “past-his-prime” monosyllabic and brooding big screen hero Steven Seagal?

b. Is it some kind of terminology to describe the apparent stifling and stillborn movie career of the bloated Seagal trying to resuscitate his fledging tough guy image?

c. Is it what a majority of movie critics and some keenly aware moviegoers will feel like when seeing the puffed up and boring Seagal chilling out with the homeboys inside the slammer in a ridiculously silly overwrought farce of a thriller?

d. All of the above

Now cinema students, if you correctly picked choice “D”, then give yourself an A+ grade not to mention a deserved pat on the back. In writer-director Don Michael Paul’s aptly titled lopsided actioner Half Past Dead, Seagal (as both this vacuous vehicle’s producer and star) gets to play an undercover FBI agent with a delicate medical condition (hence the movie's generic title). Say one thing about Seagal…he certainly knows how to milk a familiar formula in a substandard action drama. The continuation to bombard this exhausted genre is quite evident in this laughably arbitrary shoot ‘em up dud.

Half Past Dead boasts the typical series of endless flashy fight sequences, a distracting although rhythmic and catchy hip-hop soundtrack, and dizzy camera movement to make this flick more diluted than what it already is. And Seagal is methodically following up his blueprint of cinematic success by combining two of his previous fairly acceptable projects (1992’s Under Siege where he’s trapped in “a boxed-in locale” predicament and 2001’s Exit Wounds where he “gets down” by appearing opposite the popular intense rapper DMX ) and applying the same kind of former magic to the ludicrous high-tech prison flick that he’s currently partaking in. Basically, this meandering movie feels like a lame attempt for the aging guru of groin kicks to pander to the black urban set, particularly when you score some major points featuring high demanding hip-hoppers such as the power pair of Ja Rule and Kurupt. Whatever Seagal’s foray is in terms of getting “jiggy” with the inner city movie masses, he couldn’t pull off being “whacked” even if he played Eminem’s record-spinning, ebonics-quoting uncle in the sequel to 8 Mile.

Paul’s kinetic but shamelessly dopey narrative sets the stage for Agent Sascha Petrosevitch (Seagal) to infiltrate a maximum security prison (recently christened as the new Alcatraz), weak heart withstanding thanks to the intense gunplay that leaves Sascha’s cardiac condition susceptible to its “half past dead” state. But being the macho meathead that he is, Sascha’s agenda is plain and simple: he’s to get cozy with recidivist criminal Nick Frazier (Ja Rule) in hopes of landing a chance to connect to some major players willing to spill the beans on bigshot baddie Sonny Eckvall (Richard Bremmer). Sascha, donning a hair stocking on his head and wearing a blue jail jumpsuit that makes him look like a stocky cross between a middle-aged Zorro and a life-size blueberry, eventually has to combat a nasty gang of revolting thieves who overtake the newly rebuilt facility. Hmmm…how convenient that this motley crew, led by Bureau of Prisons malcontent Donny (Morris Chestnut, The Brothers), decide to descend on a venue where superstud Sascha happens to be doing his pending undercover work. Guess these renegades don’t know what they’re in store for, huh? But predictably, we do!

Oh yeah, there’s a method to Donny’s madness in terms of why he and his band of wayward warriors stormed this highly guarded joint. It appears that execution candidate Lester (Bruce Weitz) is facing imminent death and the mob needs to save his sorry hide in order to force the riff raffish rogue to tell them where he stashed the $200 million in gold. While on this particular caper years ago, Lester killed some onlookers hence his turn to meet his Maker courtesy of the State. Even prominent Supreme Court Justice Jane McPherson (Linda Thorson) is in attendance to see Lester perish. But before this cretin leaves the earth, Donny and his demented followers need Donny to talk because he means a fortune to them. And what better way to introduce Sascha into an exaggerated battle along with his fellow jailbirds than to pit them against Donny’s deadly dunces and in the process save McPherson from that evil element that willingly hold her captive as needed insurance.

Naturally, filmmaker Paul has the green light to go overboard by conceiving every overdrawn cliché that merely botches up this boisterous B-level fable. Incessantly, he instills this annoyingly flickering film with inane and incoherent dialogue, banal explosions and shoddy editing all set to the mind-numbing presence of a pulsating soundtrack. Overall, the movie’s setting is inexplicably claustrophobic despite Paul’s futile attempts to stock up on the excess of gunpowder accompanied by the belabored fight sequences under the supervision of celebrated Hong Kong choreographer Xin Xin Xiong. If anything, this convoluted storyline deserves a life sentence because outside of the cartoonish antics being perpetrated in this over-stylized and noise-producing jigsaw, Half Past Dead has no redeeming value unless this cockeyed crime caper wants to push CD sales for the explosive songs that give this shrieking showcase some forced personality.

As for Seagal, his turn in this misguided actioner is convincingly sluggish and uneventful. Despite his savvy intentions on surrounding himself with credible onscreen outlaws (yeah, the engaging presence of the rigorous rappers do help out his cause just a tad bit), this ex-box office champ looks more like a chump in denial-a puffy shadow of his former self. Seagal is painfully foolish in trying to hold onto what’s left of his passé chopsocky glory. Chestnut is the only one who really comes out of this mess looking somewhat respectable as a smooth operator with dastardly flair and a genuine disdain for those who get in his way. Sure, he overacts at times but more often than not it stimulates and uplifts the other supporting players who are either too transparent or a mere afterthought in lacking material that’s utterly absurd and tellingly trite.

For what it’s worth, Half Past Dead has the making of an extended potent rap music video or even some live wire celluloid video game. But as a movie, this fruitless and frivolous endeavor is another classic case of Seagal’s reel relevance left in the DOA pile.