Stuntman Mike: How do you think they accomplish that?
Pam: CGI?
Stuntman Mike: Well, nowadays unfortunately you're right more often than not. But back in the all or nothing days, the Vanishing Point days, the Dirty Mary Crazy Larry days, the White Line Fever days, they had real cars crashing into real cars and real dumb people driving 'em.
Pam: CGI?
Stuntman Mike: Well, nowadays unfortunately you're right more often than not. But back in the all or nothing days, the Vanishing Point days, the Dirty Mary Crazy Larry days, the White Line Fever days, they had real cars crashing into real cars and real dumb people driving 'em.
The great thrill of watching the action films of a bygone Hollywood comes from knowing that just maybe, if a horse tripped or a spark triggered a fuse or the wind unexpectedly picked up... well, someone might have died. Sure, nobody wanted to see Randolph Scott or Steve McQueen or Burt Reynolds or Bruce Willis come a cropper but it was the 'Oh my God! How’d they do that?" moments that made the films memorable and it was the stuntman who was the real star.
On paper, Joe Carnahan’s The A-Team has lots of those moments. Be it the vertigo-inducing helicopter chase or the high-speed truck hijack on the streets of Baghdad, or the mass destruction of a dockside freighter and its container load, Carnahan and his co-writers Skip Woods and Brian Bloom know that nothing is impossible for the modern-day filmmaker with a mega-budget and a studio greenlight to launch a franchise.
Another familiar brand from the interminable production line that churns out re-imaginings of Generation X television favourites (Brangelina in a big-screen Eight is Enough, anyone?), The A-Team takes a goofy TV hit from the early 1980s and transforms it into a convoluted series of double-crosses involving the military, mercenaries, the CIA and Department of Defence. At the centre of the action is a suitcase containing templates from a briefly-established US Mint, which served to manufacture cash in Iraq during the Gulf War.
With a license to print money at everyone’s fingertips, the stakes are high. Called upon to retrieve the goodies, Col. John 'Hannibal' Smith (Liam Neeson) rallies his Alpha Unit, aka A-Team, as a favour to long-time friend, Gen. Russell Morrison (Gerald McRaney, himself a past TV star as one half of the detective team Simon & Simon). The Colonel’s unit is formidable, although each member’s eccentricities makes any extended periods in their company gruelling: Lt. Templeton 'Faceman' Peck (Mr Charisma himself, Bradley Cooper) is the smooth-talking ladies man; Sgt. Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus (Quinton 'Rampage' Jackson) reps the muscle of the outfit; and Capt. 'Howling Mad' Murdock (District 9’s Sharlto Copley), a borderline psychotic, can fly anything with reckless abandon and tremendous skill.
A cruel double cross frames the war heroes and places them (briefly) behind bars in maximum security prisons. Despite the best efforts of army blue-blood (Jessica Biel) and at the mercy of a smart-mouthed, tech-savvy CIA douche-bag (Patrick Wilson), The A-Team sets about righting its reputation and placing the cash templates in the right hands.
Director Carnahan made a name for himself with the shamefully-underseen Narc (2002), and The A-Team represents his first big roll-of-the-dice in the action film stakes (Narc producer Tom Cruise had him tagged for Mission: Impossible III, but it fell through). He seems an odd choice because, despite having proven capable of handling O.T.T. action with the snappy, silly cult-hit Smokin’ Aces (2006), his strengths lie in nuanced characters and a willingness to deconstruct the action genre. Such an outside-the-system approach may have appealed on paper, especially with a myriad of wacky characters as the film’s four male leads, but he never gets to explore their idiosyncrasies in any way beyond the most perfunctory. Cooper convinces as the mean, suave metrosexual; mixed martial arts fighter Jackson flounders; Copley is underused. Liam Neeson throws himself into the madness with the same 'Whatever you need, just sign the cheques’ attitude that infused his roles in the latter Star Wars films.
But where The A-Team falters so resoundingly is in its belief that spectacle equals suspense. With the aid of the very latest special effects wizardry, Carnahan and his crew put our four heroes into the most preposterous of predicaments, defying gravity/physics/logic in the name of the Big Stunt. No one doubts that a film’s hero will get his close-up in the final shot, but an audience has every right to expect legitimate thrills along the way. That’s what stuntmen are for, even the 'real dumb’ ones.
The A-Team has its stars stand before green screens and giant fans and denies the modern fall-guy his job; this does a terrible disservice to the spirit of the great action film and the bruised men who have enthralled us with their fearless physical prowess (think Hollywood legends like Yakima Canutt, Bud Ekins and Buddy Joe Hooker). Reduced to ducking from explosions and pretending to be shot, the modern stuntman is little more than a sweaty extra.
Carnahan’s film adheres to the mentality of the music video – make it flashy enough to sell, sell, sell; the audience doesn’t have to feel anything, they just have to consume it.
