Film fans are very
discerning, and very segmented, which is something that can be as advantageous
as it can be detrimental. But the most important thing these film fans need to
realize, or maintain, is that there’s a difference between a film being good in
general, and a film being good for what it is. It’s when one comes to define
what “it” means that things can get complicated.
Skin Trade is one of the better limited-release/direct-to-video
actioners starring Dolph Lundgren who in the course of ninety minutes kills a
LOT of men. Much like his character of Andrew Scott in the original Universal Soldier, Mr. Lundgren, too, must be part machine,
as Skin Trade marks his
seventh feature film in the last two years. (He also somehow managed to fit in
an entire season of a television show.) While Lundgren has built himself a
steady and loyal fan-base over the years (your reviewer counts himself as one),
and except for nostalgia, it’s sometimes tempting to ask why: simply put, the
busy action icon’s output lacks, how shall we put this…consistency. At least,
not in the positive sense. Though it may be painful to say, a large portion of
Dolph’s post-Rocky IV career is
inundated with forgettable titles destined for video store shelves (and in the
post-millennium, the Redbox). While it might be relieving for the curious to
report that Skin Trade is
Dolph’s best action vehicle, as a lead, in quite a while, let’s also keep in
mind what we’re utilizing as a basis for comparison. Let’s also discuss how
accidentally hilarious so much of it plays out.
Dolph plays New
Jersey detective named Nick Cassidy, who one night on the docks of Newark kills
the son of Serbian crime boss Viktor Dragovic (Ron Perlman) and inadvertently
invites the wrath of the Dragovic family down upon him, leading to the
explosive deaths of his wife and daughter. Now on the run in Thailand, he is
pursued by Thai detective Tony Vitayakui (Tony Jaa, in his shaky
English-language debut), who believes Nick is responsible for the death of his
partner. Though initially at odds (meaning, violence is committed upon each
other), they begin to work together in an effort to bring down Dragovic for
good and put an end to his human trafficking operation. All during this, Nick
is relentlessly pursued by FBI Agent Eddie Reed (Michael Jai White), who wants
to take Nick down – at any cost.
When your film stars
Dolph Lundgren, Tony Jaa, Michael Jai White, and Robocop himself, Peter Weller,
let’s just say it’s clear the filmmakers are attempting to appeal to a certain
faction of their potential audience – an audience that wants to see brutal
violence, impressive stunts, and face-smashing fight choreography, all
committed by men they have come to idolize. It’s an audience who wants to see
Lundgren land cannon-like blows upon his enemies, Jaa take out a room full
of men with nothing more than his belt, and Jai White make every living
breathing man on Planet Earth feel like an utter waste of gooey skin. In that
regard, Skin Trade is massively
entertaining. Whether violent shootouts or man-on-man fisticuffs, every icon on
the marquee shares a scene with the other, and does what they do best. Lundgren
is brute force, Jaa defies every natural biological and physical law, and Jai
White…well, god damn, you shit your pants just looking at him. Every
confrontation is more thrilling and well-executed than the previous, and it’s
during these moments that you won’t be questioning why you’re watching the film
in the first place. But while those things aren’t occurring…
Skin Trade first falters with its script, which comes
dangerously close to bordering on parody. The dialogue spewed by our characters
at no point comes close to realistic and often results in unexpected laughs.
Dragovic’s son grasping an MP5 and rushing into a shoot-out while bellowing “I
AM MY FATHER’S SON!” only to be immediately cut down is the stuff of Zucker,
Zucker, and Abrahams. Lundgren stepping into the interrogation room and staring
Dragovic hard in the eye, only to throw down a file folder and demand, “How do
you sleep at night?” ain’t helping. But perhaps the best belongs to the scene
in which Dolph lies near comatose in a hospital bed following the explosive
attack that stole the lives of his wife and daughter. Lundgren, his face
half-bandaged, looks up at Costello (Weller), his superior, and asks if his
wife and daughter survived the attack. Costello looks down, stoically,
emotionally, and shakes his head, confirming Dolph’s worst nightmare…leaving
Jai White’s Reed to step up and unnecessarily say, “Your wife and daughter are
dead.”
Wha... HE KNOWS.
COSTELLO JUST DID THE SAD HEAD SHAKE THING.
The interaction
between many of the character seems half-baked, as if written by an automaton
trying to mimic human behavior. Cassidy comes home to his teenage daughter and
awkwardly ruffles her hair, as if she were instead his ten-year-old so, before
she stands up and recites Shakespeare by heart. Dolph, a father in real life to
two beautiful teenage daughters, for some reason seems entirely out of his
element interacting with who is supposed to be his child, and appears to want
the scene over as soon as possible. Once this discomfort ceases, Cassidy’s attractive
wife reminds him that it’s actually their anniversary, which he has completely
forgotten; watch as she grins big and peels off her robe to reveal a fiery red
negligee to pleasure him with, anyway. Anniversary-schmanniversary – let’s
bang!
Weller and Perlman
appear in very limited capacities, with the latter showing up only during the
first act and the last ten minutes, and the former in two scenes in which he's
saddled with an awful lot of unconvincing exposition. Weller, even though he's
playing a traditional character, seems rather uncomfortable with what he's
doing - and this is a guy who once masturbated a giant bug-typewriter on
screen. Based on Perlman's performance, it's evident he assumed the film would
hardly be seen and didn't expect a label as prominent and respected as
Magnet/Magnolia to secure distribution, because except for trying on a lazy
Russian accent, he can barely be bothered to appear present. He's capable of
far better, which he's already proven with his six-season run on Sons of Anarchy (on which he worked under the eye of
director Weller for several episodes).
The direction by
Ekachai Uekrongtham, too, shows the kind of dangerous confidence expressed by
the overly confident. Editing choices meant to be shocking and unorthodox
simply come across as confusing, even disorienting at times. Scenes will begin
with the unmistakable feeling that the audience didn't arrive for them in time,
and are interrupting something that’s long been in progress. Other scenes will
include spliced single shots of characters looking forlornly down at the ground
or off into the distance for no real reason, other than to invoke reactions of,
“Boy, is HE sad!” Much like national public radio, at times it feels like Skin Trade contains a lot of dead air, leaving it
feeling awkward and unfinished.
Perhaps the most
telling that Skin Trade was
going more for of an Expendables-like
casting extravaganza is confirmed by its half-baked ending, which less seems to
be promising a sequel and more seems to be suggesting that because the bad guys
are dead, and the good guys have no one left to blow away with shotguns or
violently pummel about the body, there’s really no reason for the film to keep
happening. The last lingering conflict that needs to be resolved is addressed
in a casual voice over tantamount to, "Yeah, I'll get to it."
Ultimately,
everything above is for naught. It's window dressing. Details. To potential
audience members of Skin Trade,
look at the poster. Look at those names. Lundgren. Jaa. Jai White. Does that
appeal to you? Do you want to see these guys share the screen and commit bloody
pain against each other? Do you want to witness these demigods lay to waste
dozens of bad guys? Then at the very least, you’ll have a great time.
If you’re intrigued by Skin Trade for any other reason, then I don’t know
how you sleep at night.
