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The Rock (1996) 
Full IMDb listing
There are times when you're just not sure whether or not a movie is putting you on, you know?
So terrorists have seized Alcatraz, along with 80 or so tourists who happened to have been in there at the time. They brought along a batch of missiles loaded with enough nerve gas to kill about a quarter million San Franciscans, too, and are demanding a hefty ransom. The Feds determine that a traditional assault on the island is impossible, but luckily, they had had the good common sense to wrongfully imprison the last guy to successfully escape from Alcatraz. They spring him after letting him rot in a secret penitentiary for about 30 years — okay, he's supposed to be a Professional Escape Artist, but let's let that one slide — and get him to come on board with this Break Into Alcatraz And Save San Francisco project in exchange for a pardon.
Now here's what I'm getting at. The Professional Escape Artist (Sean Connery as a former British commando) is taken to a downtown hotel to discuss the situation, and escapes (I guess his plan all along was to bide his time until taken to a luxury penthouse hotel suite ... and the Feds played right into his hands ... this guy's good). The second he streaks out of the hotel, the valet is pulling up in a shiny new "Humvee" luxury sports-utility vehicle and he's off. Unlikely And Out-Of-His-Depth FBI Agent (Nicolas Cage) is right on his heels, and fortunately, so is another valet with a brand-new Ferrari. A chase ensues, choreographed, apparently, by a former "Late Night With David Letterman" producer whose specialty was those segments where they crash cars through cool stuff in slow motion. They crash into trucks loaded with five-gallon jugs of water, they crash through a long line of parking meters loaded with change.
Among other things, they also crash into a cable car which for some reason was transporting fifty-gallon drums of jellied gasoline. Well, it is San Francisco. Lots of little basement gardens that require all sorts of chemicals, I suppose.
Here's another example. Right at the very top of the mission, the Federal Break Into Alcatraz commandos are glad they brought the geezer along, because it turns out that architect of Alcatraz modeled the place after a couple of the levels in the "Tomb Raider" video game. The way into the joint is a cramped duct, the path of which happens to be blocked by a huge eccentrically-rotating gear, followed by a regular blast of fire, another blast, another rotating gear, blast, gear, gear, blast. The geezer, having passed through safely on the way out, is the only one who knows how to time his moves so he can crawl safely in.
(The machine looks real keen, but why's it still in operation? Was it retrofitted to manufacture the Alcatraz Fudge sold in the souvenir shop upstairs?)
I know, I know...this sort of stuff isn't exactly unprecedented in the genre of action films. Ordinarily, I'd blip right over them. But no. See, the cars crash into those things because they have to swerve to avoid a Ruth Buzzi-like little old lady crossing the street, or a group of people in wheelchairs. And why does Sean Connery have to pass through that deadly gauntlet? So he can open a door adjacent to the Duct Of Doom that's locked on the outside. What, this squad of trained commandos has no qualms against shooting people, but blowing their way through a locked door would be unsporting?
So I ask: Is the director just messing around with us? Usually, this stuff means that the director is either somehow oblivious to the nonsense s/he is creating, or is actively reveling in it ("Look, we have your eight dollars. Just enjoy the pretty lights and loud noises, right?"). If a car smashes into a fruit cart, it's a case of the former; if the cart bears a sign reading "Siskel & Ebert's Fresh Fruit," the latter.
"The Rock" was directed by Michael Bay, who also directed "Armageddon." On that basis, I'm inclined to check the "oblivious" box on my scorecard.
Well, "The Rock" is a nice bit of fun anyway. Get close to the screen, turn the Dolby way up, crack open a Coke, and enjoy. Movies like this remind me of how important casting can be. "A familiar, name-brand landmark is seized by terrorists and lots of stuff has to be blown up to get it back"? That idea has direct-to-video written all over it. But when you hire the right people for the right roles, it's got a real shot at being something better than the script suggests. Ed Harris plays the lead "terrorist," a Marine general doing something terrible for altruistic reasons. Harris is good in anything, and he's great in anything that requires him to be a man of both action and depth. Nicholas Cage is the FBI bioweaponry specialist pressed into the unfamiliar role of commando because he's one of only a handful of people who know how to safely defuse the weapons. Cage has been playing this sort of role on a pretty regular basis, thanks to his acting ability and God-given genetics: he's handsome enough to be a leading man, but just goofy-looking enough that the average viewer can identify with him as someone more than slightly out of his element.
And then there's Sean Connery as the former British SAS commando who, after thirty years of incarceration, is still a deadly dangerous sumbitch. It's hard to imagine whom the producers might have had in mind as a second choice if Connery hadn't signed. The obvious thought is Roger Moore, but alas, unlike Connery, he seems too attached to toupees, hair dye, and cosmetic surgery to be treated seriously as an old guy.
The casting of Connery actually leads me toward other ideas. Unfortunately, they're ideas for better movies. In 1971, James Bond made his last public appearance wearing Sean Connery's face. Two years later, he looked like Roger Moore. The previous Bond was never seen again. No explanation given.
Imagine being in a theater watching a new Bond film. After Pierce Brosnan makes his usual Mountain Dew commercial-inspired escape, we move to a nameless prison somewhere, and a nameless and forgotten prisoner therein. The warden asks the prisoner's name. Sean Connery lifts the same creased face framed by the same stringy hair we saw at the start of "The Rock."
"Bond," he replies. "James Bond."
There's seven dollars' worth of movie in just that one shot. Oh, it didn't influence my opinion of "The Rock," but you have to admit that when the casting of a movie overshadows the story, you've got a cause for a rewrite.
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© 2000 Andy Ihnatko. May not be redistributed without permission. Studio PR types wishing to send Andy tapes, promotional clothing, or high-end video gear in hopes of securing a positive review are advised that such efforts are futile, but they're free to try to determine how high Andy's price actually is. Mail any and all pelft to Box 279, Norwood, MA 02062. He could use a new subwoofer for his home-theater setup.
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