“I’m begging you,” Will Smith says. “I need this. Bad Boys, one last time.” You have to get into Charlie Kaufman territory to find that kind of metatextual commentary in a major motion picture, as there’s little doubt that Smith and co-star Martin Lawrence’s trip back to the well has the vague scent of desperation. It has, after all, been seventeen years since “Bad Boys II,” and twenty-five years since the inaugural outing, which was the breakthrough film for Smith, Lawrence, and their novice director Michael Bay.
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The first lines of dialogue in “Bad Boys For Life” – “What the hell are you doin’?” “It’s called driving, Marcus!” – are a harsh reminder that this buddy cop action/comedy wasn’t exactly the freshest of concepts when it launched a quarter of a century ago. This third installment couples the driving disputes (and rest assured, there are plenty more) with the fresh concerns of middle age; Detective Marcus Barnett (Lawrence) keeps insisting he doesn’t need glasses, Detective Mike Lowery (Smith) keeps insisting his goatee isn’t greying (“That’s Midnight Cocoa Bean, I recognize that!” Marcus objects), the first roaring car chase turns out to be a high-speed trip to the hospital where Marcus’ grandson was just born, that kind of thing.
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After a bit of coasting on running gags and re-introductions, our plot kicks in: Lowery has been targeted by the son and widow of a kingpin whom he put away, years ago. (It says something about the “mythology” of these movies that even though I revisited both in recent weeks, I was still unsure, through most of the movie, if this was a “Die Hard With a Vengeance”-style thread from an earlier installment).
Early on, Mike is gunned down in a drive-by – how wild would it be if he just died fifteen minutes in – prompting the film’s strangest interlude, in which Marcus breaks down in tears in the hospital chapel, attempts to repent for his sins (“I know thou shalt not kill, but they were bad guys! All of ‘em!”), and promises the Lord, “If you just spare him, I swear to you I’ll put no more violence in this world” as the strings swell. It’s the funniest scene in the movie, albeit unintentionally; who on earth thought a bang-bang yuk-yuk sequel like this could sustain that kind of gravitas?
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We’re not here to watch Martin Lawrence audition for “First Reformed,” or for the goofy plot (and its insanely silly twists), or even for new blood like Vanessa Hudgens (and that’s good because she’s given next to nothing to do). We’re here for Smith and Lawrence, and their easy chemistry and byplay remains the draw; it’s the only thing that brings these films above the level of a bullshit CBS cop show. So, of course, the first thing the movie does is separate them, manufacturing lazy conflict out of whether recent retiree Marcus will actually help his partner track down his would-be assassin. Gee, ya think?
Which is not to say that this all isn’t occasionally enjoyable; there are scattered laughs, some well-executed action beats (including a banger of a night-time car chase), and Joe Pantoliano is, as ever, aces. It’s certainly a better film than its mid-January release date would lead one to believe/fear, even if it overstays its welcome and continues the peculiar “Bad Boys II” tradition of wrapping things up with our heroes just rolling into another country to kill some people.
Directorial duties are assumed by Belgian filmmakers Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah, whose opening title card reads “Directed by Adil and Bilal,” like it’s a homemade fan-fiction sequel by a couple of teenagers, and well, maybe that’s accurate. “Bad Boys II” was the last of Michael Bay’s five collaborations with returning producer Jerry Bruckheimer, and though Bay does not return to finish the job – maybe he was just too busy spending Netflix’s money – he makes a brief, here’s-my-blessing cameo appearance.
Yet, in a way, he’s present in every frame. Arbi and Fallah do their level best to reanimate the Bay aesthetic, filling their frames with hyper-cut car chases, wilding-out club sequences, and blown-out cinematography; they even replicate that signature “Smith and Lawrence stand dramatically while the camera circles them” shot. What the newbies can’t recreate is the coked-up, jet-fueled delirium of Bay’s efforts, particularly the second “Bad Boys,” which may be as pure a peek into a narcissist’s id as has ever been captured in a summer studio picture. It’s a loathsome, ugly movie, but fess up, it’s one you’re still thinking about. “Bad Boys For Life” is, by most standards, a “better” movie. And you’ll forget it by next week. [C]