No kiss goodbye from the wife as she straightens my tie, no last sip of coffee as I tussle the hair of my lil' slugger. Nope. Instead, I stumble out of my house with the grace and gait of someone just recently rescued from sea, drive the thirty-one post-apocalyptic miles to a job that makes me wish I was dead. Or undead, depending on the radiation levels and bust size of my fellow zombies.
But between you and me? Those two mindless, traffic-filled hours aren't all bad. It's basically the only part of my day where no one needs anything from me, and I can just sit there, not giving a damn, shit or f--k. I just coast along, chasing whatever money they'll give me.
The Commuter, Liam Neeson's latest January journey, doesn't exactly coast along, but good luck giving a damn, shit or f--k about it. I'm glad that a ton of people got paid in the production of this movie, yay them!, but this flick felt like the ultimate rip-off. And at this point, we're so far down the Don't f--k with Liam Neeson rabbit hole, I'm not even sure what film this one cribs from the most. Oh, I know. The one where they f--k with the wrong guy's family, and he's reluctantly forced to do something about it.
Yeah. That one.
Seemingly moments after establishing that college is gonna be (perhaps too) expensive for oh Danny boy, Neeson's Michael MacCauley shows up at work and promptly gets shit-canned. I'ts been real, Mike, but ya gotsta go.
And breaking all stereotypes, the massive Irishman heads to a bar to hang out with a bunch of cops, who apparently, he used to work with. Wait, what? An ex-cop who just lost his job and desperately needs cash? What could possibly happen next?
Oh, right. A beautiful women will approach him on the train-ride home, provide him with the most cryptic way possible to make a little extra money, and chaos and conspiracy will ensue. The gig? All he has to do is find the premise that does not belong. Er, person. Find the person that doesn't belong. And identify them. So they can be murdered. Um, I think.
*raises hand* Uh, Mr. Neeson? I'm pretty sure I don't belong here.
Feel free to shoot me in the head. Or the nuts.
Look, we all saw the trailer, all laughed at the silly title and poster, so I definitely knew the score heading in. For me, living in a town that makes Hill Valley look like the f--king Bronx, it was either this or Proud Mary, and I genuinely thought this was the right call at the time (now, I'm not so sure).
|Yo, those background actors are f--king bringing it.|
If only I could blame MoviePass for the Yays and Boos. Unfortunately, those f--kers have been around long before all the (mostly shitty) movies you want for ten bucks a month. And running the numbers, where that business model makes no f--king sense, they'll probably be around long after it's gone, too.
|Guess, he shouldn't have taken the train...amiright?|
*insert microphone feedback, old man coughing*
- I really enjoyed the opening montage of all that glorious commuting. No, really. I sound like I'm being a dick, but it's really well done. Almost romanticizes the morning grind, you know?
- Hey, when it comes down to it, any movie with Patrick Wilson and Sam Neil is okay with me. If only they had something to do...
- Vera Farmiga is so incredible, she should probably appear in museums around the world for two weeks at a time.
- While a lot of the stunt work is dicey at best, there's a bit where Neeson has to roll from under the train that has to be seen to be believed (same with his subsequent re-boarding). I actually laughed out loud.
- Okay, that above bit is so bad it's good, but the scene when Neeson destroys a dude with a guitar is good-good. Maybe even great-good (which I realize isn't a thing). Anyway, it's like that epic guitar solo with Slash outside of the church in November Rain. Except Slash is taller. And Irish. And clearly isn't holding his peace.
- And finally, you may have caught a glimpse of the chaos of the eventual train derailment (uh, spoiler alert??) in the trailer, but the full thing is even more absurd (and glorious) than you would imagine. Train cars are flying through the air like Godzilla just got cut from the varsity team, and Neeson has the presence to f--king dodge them nonchalantly. Ducking and covering, clearly, is for bitches. And Liam Neeson, unlike everyone who paid to be in that theater, ain't nobody's bitch.
|I like Neeson, but f--k it, that shit right there is rude.|
Counting his paycheck in front of us...well, I never.
- First he vouches that Jake Lloyd will bring balance to the force, and now he's accepting mysterious (sex-free) offers from train women? C'mon, man. That's not how the Force works!
- Life insurance? Why did it have to be life insurance? (my wife works in this industry...and the slightest hint of industry jargon instantly made my eyes glaze over)
- I'm sure every single coincidence can be explained by the most elaborate setup in the history of mankind but what a day to lose your cell phone, huh? But, hey, plot devices happen to the best of us, right? Right? *smashes phone into face until it says, inexplicably, no signal*
- I've been on the commuter line before...no way the bathrooms are that nice. Or spacious.
- Oh, f--k you Ticket Guy. F--k you upside down and sideways. I know you also part-time as Comic Relief, but I hated everything about you. Including that shitty badda-bing accent.
- I don't know the name of the actor who plays him (even if it's just an open iMDb tab away), but I was a big fan of Michael/Neeson's older friend, aka the guy he tries to write a message to. Oh, and it turns out, that ask for help in this complicated Hitchcockian plot? Totally threw that guy under the bus.
- Neck Tattoo is a big f--k, who should probably be able to handle a life-insurance salesman rounding the corner into his seventies. I mean, probably. But what should definitely happen? Some asshole on this train surely needs to notice them fighting to the death.
- This entire film is built on the idea that Neeson's character can find someone who looks suspicious on a commuter train heading out of New York City. My (main) problem with this? How about we start with the giant f--king sweaty guy skulking down the aisle, shouting into a cell phone while diddling everyone's ticket stubs? He seems like an odd duck, no?
- And let us not forget the scene where he hides from the police. A grown ass man. On an empty train. Hides..........................................................SUCCESSFULLY.
- If you are ever in a situation where the police might shoot you, here's a tip: cover the windows with newspaper. Why? Well...I'm assuming it's bulletproof. Because the idea that there's an advantage with the police being unable to see in is even more absurd.
- And finally, let me shake an angry fist at January. First, you're cold as f--k, so I already hate you as it is. It's also dark for every single minute I'm not at work, so feel free to eat a second dick. But then January, you go and redeem yourself with a couple of holidays and the occasional snow day or two. Thanks for that. Now I've got plenty of time...to see all those shitty movies January's always full of.
But, let's not start sucking each other's dicks quite yet, as obviously, tomorrow is another day. And work is clearly staring me in the face. Or is it? Looks like ol' January might be shitting out one last tiny bit of snow during the morning drive in. Could a random day off be in the forecast?
I'll probably just have a shitty commute instead.