Simon West’s Con Air is a noisy, funny action thriller made worth the excess by a cast that commits to the nonsense. Its opening drags and its final stretch overdoes things, but the pleasure in the performances lasts.
Simon West’s Con Air is an enjoyable action thriller that pushes its noise and nonsense too far. It wants the thrills to be large, the characters unmistakable and the jokes strong enough to survive the commotion. Scott Rosenberg’s screenplay is much better at giving the cast something amusing to say than at making the story persuasive. The pleasure comes from watching performers take their assignments seriously enough to make the absurdity work, without looking embarrassed by what they have been asked to do.
Nicolas Cage plays Cameron Poe with a conviction the film badly needs. The performance is emphatic, sometimes almost absurdly so, but there is enough charm to stop all that force becoming tiresome. He seems willing to make the hero look a little strange, which is more interesting than another display of untroubled competence. The weak opening asks us to invest in Cameron Poe before the film has found much momentum, and Nicolas Cage does most of the persuading.
John Malkovich plays Cyrus “The Virus” Grissom with enough control to keep the comedy from dissolving the threat. We laughed at his relish for the character’s nastiness, which makes even the more ridiculous dialogue feel worth hearing. He understands how far he can push the performance before the villain becomes harmless, and he stops short of that point. His pleasure in the part is infectious, and his scenes supply much of the humour that makes the film bearable at its loudest.
The supporting cast helps, though Scott Rosenberg often gives a performer little beyond a distinctive name and a broad attitude. John Cusack’s Agent Vince Larkin feels less comfortably accommodated by the noise than the more extravagant characters, and not every change of emphasis helps. Still, the ensemble’s willingness to commit is a considerable virtue in a film that leaves so little room for quiet work. Steve Buscemi makes a welcome contribution, giving the humour more variety than another round of macho insistence would.
David Tattersall’s cinematography keeps the action readable, a useful achievement when so much is competing for attention. Chris Lebenzon, Glen Scantlebury and Steve Mirkovich cut the action for impact, and the individual sequences have plenty of energy. The pacing across the whole film is less assured, with too little relief from the demand to keep being excited. Mark Mancina and Trevor Rabin’s music adds to that pressure, supplying drive where a little breathing space might have helped.
At 116 minutes, the length is reasonable for an action thriller; the trouble is how much of that time goes into prolonging the excitement. Simon West keeps pressing when a firmer decision to stop would have served the film better, and the final stretch spends some of the goodwill the cast has earned. The genre rewards extravagance, but it also needs a sense of when a sequence has done its job. This remains worth an evening for anyone who likes their action cheerfully excessive. Perhaps agree on the volume before starting.
