Movie Review: Triple 9

Triple 9 is an all-star thriller about dirty cops that will stay with you for its running time and not a second more (and perhaps even a few minutes less).

There’s a lot of truth in what Brie Larson said while collecting her Best Actress Oscar recently: “The thing that I love about moviemaking is how many people it takes to make it.”

She ain’t lying.

Behind the camera, you can find a cast of hundreds working in unison. In the case of John Hillcoat’s Triple 9, there’s seemingly an equivalent number in front of the camera too.

And not nobodies, neither. Triple 9 boasts Chiwetel Ejiofor, Kate Winslet, Casey Affleck, Anthony Mackie, Aaron Paul, Gal Gadot, Norman Reedus, Clifton Collins Jr., Teresa Palmer and Michael K. Williams, to list only its more recognisable names. Woody Harrelson even stumbles into frame every few scenes, whenever the on-screen star wattage dips.

What Ms. Larson neglected to point out is that the sheer volume of bodies does not necessarily result in success. It may take a lot of people to make a movie, but there’s no specific number that makes a movie good. (Her impressive Room, remember, has about as many cast-members as frostbitten explorers have left-handed fingers.)

Despite its incredible assemblage of talent and a classic, can’t-fail premise, the ordinary Triple 9 just can’t make itself memorable. Less than the sum of its parts, it now joins the disappointing X-Men ensemble flicks in accomplishing only one exceptional feat: getting all those actors to set at the same time. Give it Oscars for Shoot Scheduling and Ego Balancing, and literally nothing else.

The picture begins with a quintet of Atlanta crims attempting an elaborate bank robbery: Michael (Ejiofor), Marcus (Mackie), Gabe (Paul) and Franco (Collins Jr.) break in, steal the contents of a safety deposit box and make a run for it, while Russell (Reedus) follows behind in a teched-up van, guiding them through traffic via walkie-talkie.

After facing a hiccup – junkie Gabe secretly nicked a few stacks of cash, setting off the dye packs and ruining their getaway vehicle – they all convene at an underpass, where we learn that Marcus and Franco are actually police detectives during work hours, while Michael and Russell are ex mercenaries taking orders from the Russian-Israeli Mafia. Twist?

Michael delivers the loot to mob boss Irina (Kate Winslet), who decides not to pay them for the job until they complete a second, even more complicated heist, from a Homeland Security stronghold.

Their hands tied, the thieves devise a plot to distract the fuzz long enough to let them finish their job without interference: a 9-9-9. That police code stands for ‘officer down’; the one call that would get all available vehicles running to the same location on the other side of town. In an unhappy accident, it turns out Marcus has been assigned a pesky new partner (Affleck) who is also the nephew of the Sgt. Detective (Harrelson) working their case. In him, they have their mark.

Movies like Serpico and L.A. Confidential are far from a barrel of laughs, yet the ‘dirty cop’ genre is one of cinema’s most reliable and enjoyable go-tos; an easy delivery service for delicious anti-heroes and morally-questionable thrills.

Still, it’s hard to derive much giddy pleasure from a feature centered on the grisly plotting of a cold-blooded cop murder.

It suits the rest of director John Hillcoat’s grim filmography, from The Proposition to The Road. And yet, those projects plumbed the depths of existential despair with great skill, each carrying weighty emotional heft.

Triple 9? Not so much, trapped as it is between cinematic pulp and self-seriousness. (The Departed and Eastern Promises struck the right balance with similar subject matter.) Even the craft is lacking here; you need only look to the muddily composed opening and closing shots for evidence.

That said, the early bank heist sequence is a centerpiece almost worth the price of admission alone.

The actors – in particular Ejiofor, Mackie and Collins Jr. - do fine work with Matt Cook’s undeserving screenplay, which doesn’t so much surprise us at every turn as it just keeps going long after you think the plot has been played out.

Not unfairly, a film with this cast attached is going to raise expectations, and these are expectations Triple 9 – a serviceable and mostly distracting drama - can’t meet.

But here’s the real good news about movies made by hundreds of people: the blame gets passed around so evenly, no one really walks away harmed.

3/5

In cinemas now.  Rated MA 15+ for strong violence and coarse language.