Jonas Åkerlund
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Think "Trainspotting," think "Kids," think "Requiem for a Dream," only funny -- that is, if you think leaving naked women tied to the bedposts for days while a heavy metal CD skips at full volume is funny.
It only escalates from there into a frenzy of animated fantasies and fast forwarded footage that could challenge Requiem for a Dream in the kinetic cinematic assault department.
He made the clips for Prodigy's Smack my b*&^% up and Madonna's Ray of light, and is clearly a fan of earlier junkie movies like Gus Van Sant's Drugstore Cowboy, especially Darren Aronofsky's almost unbearable Requiem For A Dream.
An entertaining but hideous romp on the circus side of crystal meth addiction, "Spun" wants to be another "Trainspotting" and/or "Requiem for a Dream."
There is very little material covered here that has not already been pounded into the ground by Darren Aronofsky's “Requiem for a Dream,” Lili Zanuck's “Rush” and even Kubrick's “A Clockwork Orange.”
At least "Requiem for a Dream," which this film was obviously inspired by, had the good sense to take drugs seriously.
Duncan Vizla certainly looks like John Wick with his longish hair and stubble, and when he’s not naked he’s clad in a black suit and a black tie, standing in the shadows.
Instead Polar seems to take great inspiration from John Wick and the frenzied, hyper-violent work of Neveldine/Taylor in films like Crank (movies I quite enjoy) but fails to reconcile the in-your-face style it employs with the moody sensibilities of the core story, resulting in a movie that feels tonally imbalanced and confused, though it does manage to entertain and thrill from time to time.
If “John Wick” is a meaty steak, full of flavor that more than satisfies hunger pangs and “Crank” is cotton candy, sweet, tasty, but not very substantial, then Netflix‘s new action-thriller, “Polar,” directed by Jonas Åkerlund (“Spun“) and heavily indebted to both films, is what happens when you take a steak, cotton candy, and a healthy dose of your nearest narcotic and shove it all into a blender.
As appealing as a John Wick-esque action-thriller starring Mads Mikkelsen in the vengeful assassin role might seem on paper, this sketchy adaptation of Víctor Santos’ 2012 webcomic fatally overestimates its own charm and creativity, resulting in a loud and energetic yet mostly empty movie.
That’s not at all the case here; Åkerlund, presumably working with peanuts on Canadian soundstages, soaks Polar in ugly washes of purple, yellow, and red, making the whole thing look and feel like a cheap amalgam of John Wick and Suicide Squad .
It asks whether an actor’s effortlessly raffish, deliciously deadpan charms can make it out of a fetid misfire that plays like Uwe Boll’s John Wick.
Somebody online referred to this movie like one of those dated 90’s movies, something that would come out right after Pulp Fiction .
Polar is reminiscent of those Quentin Tarantino imitations from the ’90s—the ones whose creators looked at Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction , in which humorous moments are interspersed with bursts of graphic violence, and decided that the graphic violence itself was what was funny.
It may not be a comeback on the order of John Travolta�s in Pulp Fiction, but Mickey Rourke�s turn as " The Cook " here is so sinister/ sympathetic, it may make viewers forgive his cinematic sins in the years after Body Heat and Diner.
Instead Polar seems to take great inspiration from John Wick and the frenzied, hyper-violent work of Neveldine/Taylor in films like Crank (movies I quite enjoy) but fails to reconcile the in-your-face style it employs with the moody sensibilities of the core story, resulting in a movie that feels tonally imbalanced and confused, though it does manage to entertain and thrill from time to time.
If “John Wick” is a meaty steak, full of flavor that more than satisfies hunger pangs and “Crank” is cotton candy, sweet, tasty, but not very substantial, then Netflix‘s new action-thriller, “Polar,” directed by Jonas Åkerlund (“Spun“) and heavily indebted to both films, is what happens when you take a steak, cotton candy, and a healthy dose of your nearest narcotic and shove it all into a blender.
Director Jonas Åkerlund (Spun, Lords of Chaos) is clearly trying to evoke the same heightened, deceptively clever style and tone of Neveldine/Taylor’s Crank movies – and with the absence of a third Crank, there’s certainly an appetite for that – but without the duo’s sly stylistic brio or good taste in bad taste, this mostly comes off as desperately, self-consciously edgy.
It’s Kingsman without the know-how, Crank without the cunning, TV’s Happy! without the heart — although it tries for that, with unintentionally laughable results, during a climax that feels like a cut-rate Bourne Supremacy conclusion.
Netflix’s Polar is best described as John Wick meets Atomic Blonde meets Crank .
Still, there's something endearing about Åkerlund and his cast's eagerness to appall, a quality that places Spun not so much in the tradition of druggie movies like Trainspotting and Requiem for a Dream as Andy Warhol and Paul Morrissey's Heat and Trash.
Polar is reminiscent of those Quentin Tarantino imitations from the ’90s—the ones whose creators looked at Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction , in which humorous moments are interspersed with bursts of graphic violence, and decided that the graphic violence itself was what was funny.
Mena Suvari, the flawless object of Kevin Spacey's desire in "American Beauty," finds herself in dirty pajamas, fur slippers, with rotten teeth and problem bowels.
Can anything compare in shock value to the moment where we get to see not only American Beauty Mena Suvari as her green-toothed crack ho strains on the toilet in an attempt to go to the bathroom, but also a close-up of the end result?
Or that a contingent of talented young performers who impressed in previous outings -- Jason Schwartzman (Rushmore), Brittany Murphy (8 Mile), Mena Suvari (American Beauty), John Leguizamo (Moulin Rouge) -- are left to do what few actors young or old should be allowed to do: improvise self-indulgent dialogue for their navel-gazing characters.
"Spun" has a cool cast of hopped-up cats with crazy nicknames (Spider Mike, Cookie, Frisbee) well-played by the likes of Leguizamo, Mena Suvari ( "American Beauty" ) as Leguizamo's badly strung-out girlfriend, and Patrick Fugit ( "Almost Famous" ) as a pimple-encrusted teenage hanger-on at least as addicted to video games as he is to drugs.
Their world includes characters played by Jason Schwartzman (" Rushmore "), Mena Suvari (" American Beauty "), Patrick Fugit (" Almost Famous ") and Brittany Murphy (" 8 Mile " and " Just Married ").
By contrast, Polar feels like Smokin’ Aces — t he oversaturated, “edgy”, 2006 shoot-em-up about a bunch of assassins going at it in all senses of the phrase.
Polar fits in nicely with a whole host of similar pictures: John Wick 2 , Smokin' Aces , Hotel Artemis , et cetera, movies in which odd and flamboyant killers murder each other in vaguely absurd ways.
It’s a fun, violent, well-crafted scene playing every bit towards fans of Shoot ‘Em Up (2007) and Smokin’ Aces (2006).
It’s likely supposed to be reminiscent of The Professional , one of several 90s-early 00s action-crime-dramas the filmmakers chewed up and shat out to make this, with the extra added tease of “maybe they’ll fuck at some point” (they don’t, incredibly, which is the only time this movie exercises any restraint).
Their dynamic feels ripped straight out of The Professional , but it feels bizarre coming from a thirty-year-old actress who seems to be playing a tween.
There’s also a sibling-like feel, from tone to superfluous beats, with Jonas Akerlund’s much-maligned Horsemen (2009) and Sean Byrne’s The Devil’s Candy (2015).
He made the clips for Prodigy's Smack my b*&^% up and Madonna's Ray of light, and is clearly a fan of earlier junkie movies like Gus Van Sant's Drugstore Cowboy, especially Darren Aronofsky's almost unbearable Requiem For A Dream.
Duncan’s gloves that control Gatling guns recall the rig in “Shoot ’Em Up,” only without any humor to the bombast.
Only in this moment do we get a sense for the streamlined shoot-’em-up (or, at the very least, Shoot ’Em Up ) that Polar should have been.
It’s a fun, violent, well-crafted scene playing every bit towards fans of Shoot ‘Em Up (2007) and Smokin’ Aces (2006).
It’s a typically reliable sub-genre with some real standouts in the likes of Grosse Point Blank (1997), In Bruges (2008), and The Matador (2005), but even lesser entries can make for passable entertainment with the right balance of laughs and carnage.
While the female villains dress like Sin City characters, Camille is vulnerable and wears modest cold-weather gear.
The original graphic novel on which it was based was a minimalist affair, with a Sin City black-and-white-and-red-all-over aesthetic that keeps its hitman antics restrained.
Scenes in which Blut’s team of assassins empty clips into a morbidly obese man in America, complete with bullets going through large soda cups and bags of cheese curls, wouldn’t feel out of place in Postal or Rampage , Jayson Rothwell’s screenplay burning with barely concealed contempt for everyone save for stoic dudes with eyepatches and mad fight skills.
There is very little material covered here that has not already been pounded into the ground by Darren Aronofsky's “Requiem for a Dream,” Lili Zanuck's “Rush” and even Kubrick's “A Clockwork Orange.”
Scenes in which Blut’s team of assassins empty clips into a morbidly obese man in America, complete with bullets going through large soda cups and bags of cheese curls, wouldn’t feel out of place in Postal or Rampage , Jayson Rothwell’s screenplay burning with barely concealed contempt for everyone save for stoic dudes with eyepatches and mad fight skills.
Visions of Mel Gibson's Wallace epic Braveheart, specifically its entrails-eviscerating finale, might come to mind as Blut cuts and jabs at Duncan's flesh with pliers, knives and other sharp objects.
The dully stylized, jokey carnage is also clearly Åkerlund’s play to join the same twisted-pulp, laugh-while-you-gag club frequented by Matthew Vaughn (“Kick Ass,” “Kingsman”), James Gunn (“Super”) and David Ayers (“Suicide Squad”).
That’s not at all the case here; Åkerlund, presumably working with peanuts on Canadian soundstages, soaks Polar in ugly washes of purple, yellow, and red, making the whole thing look and feel like a cheap amalgam of John Wick and Suicide Squad .
Duncan’s social awkwardness — particularly around his new neighbor Camille (Vanessa Hudgens) and the local children — is less expected (and thereby more compelling) than the braggadocio of Blut’s lapdogs, who all come off like Suicide Squad rejects.
Lucas’ tiring performance is reflected in the achingly clichéd performances from the team of assassins that chase the protagonist – each character leans far too hard on the “quirky” style of acting that was bad enough in Suicide Squad, but here just seem like bad imitations of those bad performances.
The dully stylized, jokey carnage is also clearly Åkerlund’s play to join the same twisted-pulp, laugh-while-you-gag club frequented by Matthew Vaughn (“Kick Ass,” “Kingsman”), James Gunn (“Super”) and David Ayers (“Suicide Squad”).
The existence of these few fun scenes shows that Åkerlund had a mind to embrace the quirky and fun style that fellow comic book films Kick-Ass and Ghost Rider utilized.