More bullets than brains, but zany ‘Free Fire’ is fun
“Let’s buy some guns, eh?” Don’t look for any motivations deeper than that in “Free Fire,” a zany, bullet-riddled action film high on style and low on substance. This cartoonishly violent exercise in cinematic hero worship comes at the audience with chambers loaded and fires off rounds too rapidly to worry about how vapid it all is.
It’s 1978, and Irish bloke Chris (Cillian Murphy), presumably IRA, is in Boston to buy a cache of assault rifles from a bombastic South African arms dealer, Vernon (Sharlto Copley). Each brings his own posse of business associates, muscle men and underlings to an abandoned warehouse with big acoustics. Facilitating the transfer is Justine (Brie Larson), a sharp businesswoman who wants the deal sealed and rolls her eyes at Chris when he starts to put the moves on her.
But from the start, the situation’s off. For starters, Vernon’s brought the wrong assault rifles, and he seems to care more about maintaining the integrity of his shoulder-padded suit than satisfying his armed and dangerous customers. From there tensions steadily mount as the clashing, fragile egos engage in petty power plays. Leave it to a low-level junkie goon to blow the powder keg (remember, you get what you pay for).
Everybody’s angry. Everybody’s armed. And that’s the movie: a 90-minute standoff.
Director and writer Ben Wheatley has dispensed of such narrative pleasantries as character arcs, motivation, and backstories, relying on the chemis-
try of his well-stocked cast to bridge the gaps in the thin narrative. Murphy, Larson, Copley, Armie Hammer, and Sam Riley clearly relish trading bullets and barbs from behind barricades as each tries to gain the upper hand in the chaos.
Everyone gets shot and occasionally the violence borders on brutality. But the tone is leavened with an almost Looney Tunes quality. At one point there’s a tickle fight, and a climactic showdown is soundtracked by a John Denver song. It’s hard to catch your breath, alternating between gasps and guffaws.
Wheatley wears his cinematic influences on his sleeve. The intimate action sequences and ruthless violence reminiscent of Martin Scorsese and Sam Peckinpah, and there’s clearly some Quentin Tarantino worship at play in the rollicking dialogue and giddy gore. His film borrows those elements and turns the dial on them up to 11, and while that’s as fun as you’d hope it would be, it also doesn’t leave a lasting impression. Add some emotional stakes, and the film might linger in mind after the popcorn’s run out.
“Free Fire” is all dessert, no vegetables — good for a sugar rush but not very nutritious.
Reach the reporter at 602-4448371 or bvandenburgh@gannett.com. Twitter.com/BabsVan.