21 bridges

review by mia sherry

While I would rather eat a raw weasel than call myself a Russo brother’s fan, I’ll admit my interest was piqued by the trailer for 21 Bridges. It looked like a classic cop caper: neon blues and reds flashing as one New York City detective desperate to do good chases a ragamuffin ne’er-do-well down the streets, with enough plot twists to maintain a basic level of engagement. 

Unfortunately, I should have just watched the trailer and left it at that, because ironically, up until six months ago, the film was actually titled 17 Bridges. Now, I’m no math whiz myself, so I don’t want to cast any stones, but the fact that somebody wrote a script, and then a production company greenlit that script and assembled an entire cast and crew to produce said script, and from A to B no one involved fact-checked the amount of bridges in a film about bridges? That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Many would assume that the sheer amount of well-respected A-List actors in the cast would be enough to lift any lousy script from the grave; the film stars J.K Simmons, Sienna Miller, Stephan James, and of course, Chadwick Boseman in his first prominent role since Black Panther. While Boseman gives his all to the role of Detective Andre Davis (complete with a tragic backstory straight out of Hollyoaks), it’s nowhere near enough to carry the sheer mess that Adam Mervis’ story devolved into. “A good workman never blames his tools!” I hear you yell. That’s true, but with a script so middle-of-the-road, dialogue so incredibly cheesy, and put-on New York accents so thick the poor actors have to chew each word with force, it’s like asking a surgeon to operate with a butterknife and a box of kleenex.

Despite all the obvious missteps within this film, oddly, the aspect most grating to me, the one thing about this film that makes me sad is the sheer lack of bridges. It’s in the title! Surely it was going to have some kind of focus! But no; like Jessica Chastain in the ill-fated Death and Life of John F. Donovan, they were mentioned merely by name and not once given time, thought or plot space, despite Boseman’s very brilliant delivery of the line “Shut down the bridges!”

Why am I focusing so much on the bridges, or lack thereof? It’s pedantic, possibly, but the frustration comes from the fact that it was the only unique point on which the film stood. Other than that it would have been seen as just another cut and dry mouse chase-- which it is. In fact, it’s even more than cut and dry; it is without a doubt the least entertaining, utterly predictable and mind-numbingly boring film I’ve seen all year. Frankly, they may as well have called it 21 Guns or 21 Crooked Cops, if they could only manage to get their math right.

With hammy cinematography, overtly liberal gunfire and performances dampened by a mediocre script, 21 Bridges is a sorry addition to cinemas across the globe. There’s nothing more to be said about it, no silver lining; all we can hope for is a healthy bout of cultural amnesia to forget this mess was ever made.

21 Bridges is currently screening in cinemas across Ireland.