The title says it all. In The Equalizer, Denzel Washington single-handedly evens the score between the Americans and the Russians, in a battle that is being waged through polite words at diplomatic forums and impolite methods behind the scenes.
For all their dastardliness, their disregard for human life and liberty, their control of American crime, and their affluence and influence, the gang members working for a the man with a poet’s name cannot match up to Washington’s Robert McCall, a former intelligence spook with a greying scalp and a paternalistic interest in his fellow blue-collar employees at the hardware store in Boston where he works. McCall starts taking down a gang run by a Moscow man named Pushkin when one of its pimps beats up Elena, a young prostitute (Chloe Grace Moretz) he has befriended.
McCall’s interest in Elena, not to be confused with anything you might have seen in Taxi Driver, is strictly of the father-daughter variety, but the relationship is too tenuous to justify the extreme brutality with which he disposes of Pushkin’s men. It’s to the credit of Washington and Moretz that the few scenes between them have a spark that leads directly to an inferno of rage and revenge.
A weak villain with an implacable accent
Make no mistake: The Equalizer is the most recent movie after Salt and John Wick to suggest that only one American vigilante is the equal of a whole group of tattooed and ruthless Russians. McCall’s adversary, if one can call him that, is Teddy (Marton Csokas), a suave and chilling enforcer with an accent from somewhere between England and Siberia. Teddy’s past and body art mark him as a very dangerous person, and he proves his medieval attitude to punishment in two scenes, but since he is in America, he must bow down to the superior race. McCall is the kind of avenging angel who reaches out for whatever is in the vicinity ‒ a paperweight, a bottle opener ‒ to bring corrupt cops in line, clean up his surroundings and teach the Russians to stay in Russia.
The best battles are not, however, of the physical variety. Antoine Fuqua’s movie is adapted from the mid-eighties television series of the same name, and words often leave a greater mark than blows and bullets. McCall and Teddy have a nice, almost civil exchange in a restaurant before their big battle, by which time it is amply clear that Teddy is not going to go home to borscht and ballet any time soon.
The quiet lull-before-the-storm opening, which reveals McCall to be a man of fastidious routine and obsessive ritual, is also nicely handled until the time comes to show his character doing the slo-mo walk towards the camera as things burn in the background. Fuqua whips up the tension nicely, and the action sequences are satisfying enough for those to marvel at gougings and hangings. Csokas drums up ample charisma and a convincingly sinister air, but he is simply not smart enough or fast enough to keep with the increasingly preposterous turn of events aimed to underlining McCall’s superhuman abilities. This battle was lost before it even began.
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For all their dastardliness, their disregard for human life and liberty, their control of American crime, and their affluence and influence, the gang members working for a the man with a poet’s name cannot match up to Washington’s Robert McCall, a former intelligence spook with a greying scalp and a paternalistic interest in his fellow blue-collar employees at the hardware store in Boston where he works. McCall starts taking down a gang run by a Moscow man named Pushkin when one of its pimps beats up Elena, a young prostitute (Chloe Grace Moretz) he has befriended.
McCall’s interest in Elena, not to be confused with anything you might have seen in Taxi Driver, is strictly of the father-daughter variety, but the relationship is too tenuous to justify the extreme brutality with which he disposes of Pushkin’s men. It’s to the credit of Washington and Moretz that the few scenes between them have a spark that leads directly to an inferno of rage and revenge.
A weak villain with an implacable accent
Make no mistake: The Equalizer is the most recent movie after Salt and John Wick to suggest that only one American vigilante is the equal of a whole group of tattooed and ruthless Russians. McCall’s adversary, if one can call him that, is Teddy (Marton Csokas), a suave and chilling enforcer with an accent from somewhere between England and Siberia. Teddy’s past and body art mark him as a very dangerous person, and he proves his medieval attitude to punishment in two scenes, but since he is in America, he must bow down to the superior race. McCall is the kind of avenging angel who reaches out for whatever is in the vicinity ‒ a paperweight, a bottle opener ‒ to bring corrupt cops in line, clean up his surroundings and teach the Russians to stay in Russia.
The best battles are not, however, of the physical variety. Antoine Fuqua’s movie is adapted from the mid-eighties television series of the same name, and words often leave a greater mark than blows and bullets. McCall and Teddy have a nice, almost civil exchange in a restaurant before their big battle, by which time it is amply clear that Teddy is not going to go home to borscht and ballet any time soon.
The quiet lull-before-the-storm opening, which reveals McCall to be a man of fastidious routine and obsessive ritual, is also nicely handled until the time comes to show his character doing the slo-mo walk towards the camera as things burn in the background. Fuqua whips up the tension nicely, and the action sequences are satisfying enough for those to marvel at gougings and hangings. Csokas drums up ample charisma and a convincingly sinister air, but he is simply not smart enough or fast enough to keep with the increasingly preposterous turn of events aimed to underlining McCall’s superhuman abilities. This battle was lost before it even began.
