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David Mamet’s sharp, bruising dialogue has informed tales of
desperate salesmen, murderous con artists and blue-collar labor leaders, men
for whom hostility, if not the explicit threat of violence, is an ever-present
workplace reality. Rarely has Mamet explored the fight game, as he does with
mixed results in Redbelt, but careful
observers will recognize in his latest thriller some of the characters and
themes that have become staples of his hyper-masculine storytelling.There is the pampered, disingenuous
movie star (Tim Allen),
the kind Mamet skewered so effortlessly in State and Main; an illusionist (Cyril Takayama) whose slippery
sleight of hand recalls Ricky Jay’s trickery in House
of Games; and an insidious, Spanish
Prisoner-style con job orchestrated by Jay, on hand as a
sleazy fight promoter, and longtime Mamet collaborator Joe Mantegna. The target of their elaborate
scam is Mike Terry (Chiwetel
Ejiofor), an unassuming jujitsu instructor saddled with a mounting pile of
unpaid bills and an increasingly tense marriage. Mike could solve his problems
by entering a martial-arts tournament with a $50,000 grand prize, but like all
noble warriors, he adheres to an unimpeachable code. He fights for honor, not
for money, even as he and his wife (Alice Braga) fall deeper into debt. He stumbles into the treacherous
world of the Hollywood
elite when Chet Frank (Allen), a big-screen heavy, incites a brawl at the local
bar; Mike saves him from the fray and soon finds himself dining at Chet’s
lavish mansion. Pleasantries are exchanged, deals are brokered, and Mike
impulsively agrees to co-produce Chet’s latest action extravaganza. The future
seems suddenly brighter, but as is always the case in Mamet’s paranoid
universe, even the most fortunate twists of fate have harsh, unforeseen
consequences. The upshot, after a series of betrayals that leave him
penniless and his jujitsu academy on the verge of bankruptcy, is that Mike
agrees to fight for money. It is an act of desperation, but even in his darkest
hour, Mamet’s urban samurai never sacrifices his pride. Upon learning that the
contest is fixed, Mike takes matters into his own hands, leading to a feel-good
denouement that rings uncommonly false. Mamet is rarely one to burden his
stories with common clichés; when he does so in Redbelt, the movie falls apart. Up to that point, his foray into the ring is a rousing
success. Ejiofor, who deserved an Oscar nomination for his supporting turn in
last year’s Talk to Me, is brilliant
here, delivering an understated but emotionally rich performance as a hero
sinking beneath the weight of his convictions. And Mamet’s dialogue is crisp,
invigorated by supporting players (particularly Mantegna and Jay) who relish
his acerbic wordplay. But for a movie that aims to do for jujitsu what Rocky did for boxing, Redbelt taps out before the final bell.
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