Michael C. here. It has been over six years since Liam Neeson reinvented as filmdom’s reigning action hero by making “I will find you, and I will kill you” sound less like a threat and more like a statement of simple fact. Since then, a sort of unofficial franchise has formed around the concept of Neeson as a grim dispenser of violence. This series, not including would-be franchises launches like Battleship and The A-Team, breaks down into three distinct groups. They are:
- Pure, unadulterated schlock. Only the faintest trace of plot or character. Just Neeson methodically throat-punching his way through an unending supply of sleazy Euro-Villains bent on doing unspeakable things to his loved ones: Taken 1, 2, 3
- Still schlock, but with bonus bells and whistles. Supporting characters, a high concept premise, and a plot of rapidly escalating absurdity. Slightly less throat punching than the Taken films, but still a lot of throat punching: Unknown, Non-Stop
- Actual films of substance smuggled into theaters. Under the guise of another Neeson schlock-fest, naturally. Little to no throat punching. Occasional implied wolf punching: The Grey, A Walk Among the Tombstones
For a while it looks like the latest entry in this series, Jaume Collet-Serra’s currently underperforming Run All Night, is poised to join Grey and Tombstones in that elite third group...
It looks this way simply by taking the time to establish its gritty NYC setting and Neeson’s character of Jimmy “The Gravedigger” Conlon, a career killer who has lived longer than he should have. Unfortunately, that hope evaporates when the action kicks into gear and the atmosphere of beaten down melancholy is revealed to be a veneer of complexity pasted over the same old crap. It has the bare bones of a story that might have been great in the hands of Dennis Lehane or Elmore Leonard, but which here is executed at a level that rarely rises above competence. Response to the film will depend on whether one is angry that it squanders its potential or grateful that the filmmakers attempted to do more than the minimum required.
The film introduces us to Jimmy as a boozy wreck, a professional killer who has avoided prosecution but who is nonetheless doing his time in a life devoid of happiness or loved ones. Neeson's only remaining human connection is Ed Harris’s mob boss, his employer and lifelong pal. When Neeson’s estranged son, an honest working man, runs afoul of Harris’s no good offspring, Neeson must cross his only friend to protect his son, even if that son would prefer never to see Neeson again.
(It is immutable movie law that all mob bosses have hateful, fuck-up sons who can be counted on to set plots in motion with their stupidity and lack of impulse control. I assume they all hang photos of Sonny Corleone over their bed)
Director Collet-Serra insists on amping things up to a level of video game slickness, darting the camera around New York City in digitally assisted swoops and peppering in flashy show-off shots, like when we follow a gun as it is scooped off the ground, cocked, and fired, all in one fluid motion. It is meant to crank up the coolness factor but it only succeeds in killing any gritty integrity the first act was able to muster. A film can’t expect to sustain a Mystic River vibe if it morphs into John Wick every few minutes. That goes double for the deadly assassin Harris puts on Neeson’s trail, an über-professional cipher of a character (played by Common) who would be more at home hunting Jason Bourne than Jimmy "the Gravedigger" Conlon.
More maddening still is the utterly boring way in which every scene is assembled. The climax of the movie involving Neeson single-handedly taking on a bar full of thugs cries out for some breathing room to build tension and add the believability of extended takes, but it doesn’t get it because Every. Shot. Must. Be. Exactly. The. Same. Length. Be it a car chase or a conversation you can count on a cut every few seconds, a lack of variety that effectively robs the film of any rising and falling momentum. It’s the reason why a viewer grows inexplicably bored even when it seems like a lot of stuff is happening on screen.
Neeson recently stated in a Guardian interview that his days as Hollywood’s reigning badass are numbered. Indeed, he is currently working with Scorsese on a film about 17th century Jesuit Priests. Despite the occasional giddy high, I can’t say I will be sorry to see the curtain drop on this chapter of Neeson’s career. When they write the history of “Liam Neeson: King of The Ass-Kickers” Run All Night will be far from the nadir, but its persistent mediocrity may have won it a worse fate. It’s hard to imagine anyone remembering this movie at all.
Grade: C