3 Pulses
Mark Wahlberg, Michael Pe’a, Danny Glover, Kate Mara
Directed by Antoine Fuqua
Rated R
The year was 1985. The Cold War was in full swing. Reaganomics was at its zenith.
Hollywood, seizing the country’s thirst for patriotism, rolled out not one, but two tales of American soldiers of fortune matching brawn and (sometimes) wits against foreign adversaries. Commando and Rambo: First Blood Part II were both accentuated by a resounding call of U.S. nationalism.
Flash forward to 2007. The second Iraq War is entering its fifth year. The blogosphere has given rise to paranoid resentment toward our administration. Cynicism and conspiracy theories abound. How does Hollywood respond this time?
Enter Shooter, director Antoine Fuqua’s entertaining, yet haphazard, take on government corruption.
Shooter hangs its hat on a post-9/11 populist creed: The U.S. government, no matter what it says, doesn’t act in the best interest of its people. Our Marine sniper hero, Bob Lee Swagger (Wahlberg), finds this out early after his forces leave him and his partner for dead on a mission in Ethiopia. Swagger survives, but his partner does not, which prompts Swagger to disavow and become a mulleted recluse.
One day while Swagger is sitting next to his copy of The 9/11 Commission Report, Col. Issac Johnson (Glover) shows up requesting Swagger’s assistance in sniffing out a would-be presidential assassination. After some grumblings about our current state of affairs, Swagger’s jingoism dismisses his mistrust.
However, after a (seemingly) botched attempt on the president’s life, he is soon framed as the assassin and on the run from the FBI and shadowy political figures.
With the help of his ex-partner’s girlfriend Sarah (Kate Mara) and a rookie FBI agent (Michael Pena), Swagger follows the money, so to speak, back to a rotten U.S. senator (Ned Beatty).
Shooter is certainly not the first film to question Washington. The Manchurian Candidate, Three Days of the Condor and Billy Jack blazed these trails years ago. And, therein lies Shooter’s drawback. When compared with the provocative nature of those films, Shooter pales in comparison.
The effort, while laudable, loses steam in the second hour as Shooter’s suspicious mind deteriorates.
Instead of developing his conjectures and proposing resolutions, Fuqua elects to blow everything up. While his canvas is vast and expansive, Shooter fails to gather the requisite emotional traction needed to balance its visceral action.
Thankfully, Wahlberg is on hand to give his brooding, sullen update on Rambo. Their tactics may be similar, but Swagger is the anti-1980s hero, which makes him a perfect fit for today.
