As I recall TV or WTF? imaginary remained inscribed on the screen: concentrate dough slammed FX / cars / clothes / pyrotechnics and tasteless totally assumed background sketch of uninterrupted two niggas, on a vague background of early start of demo scenario préprépré-state production. which we royally fucks .. in short everything that Besson Taxi will try to do here in vain. Michael Bay is on the big stuff Plaizir, having assimilated all the shit U.S. (then) recent as the big trash container-chrome producer that is in the credits of Fight Club to pose too much of Rodriguez Desperados 2 , Matrix, inevitable, until it seems products + the daring Besson himself "... he swings a chase scene still unstoppable efficiency (for rednecks interested, love chases love is like the solos in heavy metal, natural and I have a Bullitt poster in my room). And then the humor, even if coasting, works better than the 1 (which was in all ways not well Folichon) limit so surreal at times eyeing it to anything. The end flared like a pig looks like nothing, since it falls like a hair on the soup Rambo buddy movie of the ring relaxed in LA, and the number one bad guy has no charisma, he would have preferred the Number Two (Peter Stormare CAN NOT disappoint!) or why not a lil Tcheky Karyo that would give some substance to it all, here for regrets. All this, with cascading beats for Ludacris as a soundtrack, gives a serious belly ache, but something in us as a body secret (we will call the burgercréas or cocoeurcola), purring with pleasure ...
A sort of Hollywood totem erected to the glory of all that the "American market" has more shrill and mindless for us poor Europeans. A concept never pushed too far on film (at least before the Hypertension). Enough material for 3 or 4 theses tightly packed.
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