The Equalizer

I call a lot of movies dumb, and while that is probably a bit intellectually lazy, it’s also incredibly efficient — and totally honest, I promise, because I watch a whole lot of dumb movies. It’s unavoidable, really. So when I say that Antoine Fuqua’s The Equalizer is — at moments — the dumbest movie of the year, this is a statement with gravity that should be taken seriously. What’s odd about Fuqua’s film is that it occasionally feels incredibly competent — at least while it’s onscreen. While the idea of reviving an ‘80s TV show with Denzel Washington in the lead and attacking it with a wholly straight face is a goofy concept to begin with, the results are surprisingly entertaining.

Much of this is thanks to Denzel, who — once again — is just playing Denzel. It’s the kind of role he’s been sleepwalking through for more than a decade now, but he’s still — no matter what — good at it. What helps is that no one’s placing any importance on either his performance or the movie itself. I’d steeled myself for the worst, seeing as how advanced word from its screenings at the Toronto International Film Festival were not kind, while Fuqua’s track record since the overrated Training Day (2001) has been dreary. We get a confused, glossy action movie that’s part exploitative trash, dignified treatise on honor and — in between the two — infinitely silly.

The film’s based on the TV show of the same name that ran on CBS in the late ‘80s. Here, Denzel’s in the old Edward Woodward role, as a seemingly mild-mannered Robert McCall, who just so happens to be a trained killer (by whom stays a mystery through about half the movie) with a heavy sense of justice. This latter trait gets him entangled in a violent war with the Russian mob after he discovers that they’ve put an acquaintance (who’s also a prostitute) in the ICU, prompting Robert to go on a rampage. Lots of blood is spilt in increasingly absurd and superhuman ways, as middle-aged Robert mows through throngs of faceless gangsters. It’s exploitation of the highest degree, right down to the scenery-chewing bad guy with a dodgy Russian accent (Marton Csokas, Sin City: A Dame to Kill For).

What’s bizarre — and even fascinating — is that Fuqua doesn’t realize that what he’s making is inherently hot garbage. That The Equalizer’s a reworking of a forgotten — or at the very least, short lived — television series should clue you in on the level the movie’s operating on. Fuqua, however, does not understand this. Perhaps he thinks that reteaming with Denzel means this is a project that’s, by proxy, something weightier. Perhaps he just doesn’t know better. Regardless, the end result is that The Equalizer looks, feels and moves like a slick, professional Hollywood project, acting like a pretty entertaining crime flick for about three-fourths of its running time despite its absurd goings on. Stuffed in the cracks are glances at how stupid the movie can be (Denzel killing a guy with a corkscrew should be your first clue), something that finally bursts through in The Equalizer’s big climax as Denzel goes Home Alone on a bunch of bad guys in a Home Depot. High points include Denzel drilling some guy through the brain with a power drill, and later, sporting a nail gun as a weapon, walking in slo-mo through a deluge of fire sprinklers. That Fuqua ups this by having the last image of the movie be Denzel looking longingly out at the ocean while a Moby cover of a Joy Division song plays is a kind of symphonic level of unintentional hilarity. But I’ll be damned if all of this foolishness didn’t keep me entertained, something I can’t say about a whole lot of better movies. Rated R for strong bloody violence and language throughout, including some sexual references.