XXX

It is probably fair to say that the events depicted in “XXX” do not bear much resemblance to real life as we know it. I appreciate the conceit—that a dapper, tuxedoed spy of the James Bond variety would have a hard time penetrating the modern day’s cabal of rogues, anarchists, drug smugglers, terrorists, and malcontents. The opening scene of the movie makes this explicit; a handsome Bond-type displays some respectable derring-do, but then, in the midst of a mosh pit full of what looks like refugees from a midnight showing of Rocky Horror, he sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb, and pays with his life. Now, never mind that this may be false on the face of it, if half of what you read about our real-life SEAL and Delta operatives’ ability to “go native” is to be believed. I’m willing to accept the premise, for the sake of fun. Cut to Samuel Jackson as Gibbons, a well tailored spymaster, who decides that what we need to penetrate the lair of the evildoers is a man of their ilk, in his words, “dirty, tattooed, dangerous.” So he embarks on a mission to find the best of the worst, with the idea of recruiting that lucky man for some agency work. We have already been introduced to Xander Cage, played by the affable, (fake) tattooed, shaven-headed, muscular Vin Diesel, a man who, it seems clear, were he not an actor, would be a bouncer at a third tier club. That may not be fair. Diesel (not his real name, as we all know by now) has turned his physique and screen presence into a career, but let’s not forget that he was in “Saving Private Ryan” and, by all accounts, turned in a good performance in “Boiler Room.” Still, his puppy-eyed, slack-jawed persona strikes me as less menacing than, well, cuddly. That may be part of the marketing ploy—you know, the action hero that even Moms will like—as he jockeys for position as the next big action superstar.

But I digress. Xander is an “extreme” athlete. He likes to snowboard, ride fast cars and motorcycles, and skydive. And he has a website, on which he posts video of his latest stunts. As it turns out, he is also intelligent, self-possessed and has a certain knack for what those in the (spy) biz call “tradecraft.” The first third of the movie is quite entertaining, as Xander (and a few disposable others) are put through a series of tests to see if they have the right stuff. Xander (or “Triple-X,” as he is dubbed by Gibbons, because of the tattoo on his neck) does, of course, and in short order he is shipped off to Europe, where he displays initiative and imagination (and annoys his boss) as he infiltrates the not-so-subtly named terrorist group Anarchy-99.

But then a peculiar thing happens. All of a sudden Xander, who has been billed all along as the anti-Bond, turns out to be every bit as much Bond as Bond himself! (The only difference is in the wardrobe.) Wait! A dashing hero, dodging bullets and girls in an exotic European locale as he struggles stylishly to save the world? Haven’t we seen Sean Connery (and Roger Moore, and Pierce Brosnan, etc.) doing just this sort of thing many times before? And just like that, the energy fizzles out of the picture. Once Xander turns into a standard issue good guy (he even utters some speech about finally having something worth fighting for), “XXX” loses what made it original in the first place. From this point on the picture just marks time, loading one (admittedly diverting) action sequence on top of another, until the end (which is also identical to the ending of most Bond pictures—the hero, on a tropical beach, with the babe). To make matters worse, Gibbons starts treating Xander less like the dangerous, barely controllable weapon that he should be, and more like a long-lost son. Well, director Rob Cohen (who also directed Diesel in “The Fast and the Furious”) has a way with action. But for James Bond, I am willing to wait for Brosnan in “Die Another Day.” Meanwhile, I want my anti-Bond back. (8/25/02)