PREMIERE.COM'S REVIEW (posted 4/23/04)

Knee-deep in the ’80s, director Tony Scott was slated to add Man on Fire to his action-heavy résumé, but wound up shooting a little jet-pilot movie called Top Gun instead. That incarnation of Man on Fire was still produced and released in 1987, directed by Frenchman Elie Chouraqai, and if that doesn’t ring a bell, ask yourself: When was the last time a top-billed Scott Glenn had box office draw?

Denzel Washington bleeds charisma, on the other hand, which explains why Tony Scott’s 2004 version will garnish more attention, but undeservedly so. I’ve liked and disliked my share of Scott’s movies, but never before have I been outright bored. For all of Scott’s force-fed camera shticks (nauseating jump cuts, freeze frames, random color saturation, and focus changes), Man on Fire is a frenziedly unexciting example of (a) complete emotional detachment through the use of optical effects; (b) stretching a movie an hour longer than it needs to be; (c) taking every opportunity to dumb down for a mass audience; and (d) pompously excessive subtitling.

About those subtitles: If your idea of a good time is watching a PowerPoint presentation, Man on Fire may be your cup of tea. The movie is set in Mexico City, and near-constant subtitles are used to translate Spanish to English, English to Spanish, and occasionally, English to English and Spanish to Spanish. Fonts enlarge, elongate, fly off-screen, zoom in and out, act as countdown timers, hide behind scenery, and give off ghostly reflections. There is a fine line between edgy and irritating, and Scott parks on the wrong side.

About the story: Washington stars as John Creasy, an ex–soldier-of-fortune and admitted drunk who reluctantly takes on a position as a bodyguard–baby-sitter to a little girl named Pita (Dakota Fanning). Pita’s parents (Radha Mitchell and Marc Anthony) don’t realize Creasy is secretly a suicidal mess, and Creasy, after a failed attempt to kill himself, bonds with Pita. Some action occurs halfway through the film (around the time Mitchell picks up a pseudo-Southern accent), as Creasy gets shot while trying to prevent Pita’s kidnapping. Then the ransom drop goes awry, and Pita is presumably killed.

From there, the movie transforms into a lethal cross between Falling Down and The Punisher. Washington steps into his typical righteous persona and teaches us all a lesson: Don’t mess with Dakota Fanning. Heavily armed in a suit and tie, Creasy depravedly tortures and murders anyone and everyone connected to the kidnapping ring. Rocket launching assaults, nightclub fires, finger removal, and rectal time bombs are all in his repertoire; as Creasy’s war buddy (Christopher Walken, having way too much fun) proclaims: "He’s an artist of death and he’s about to paint his masterpiece."

Not even within earshot of a masterpiece, Man on Fire, based on its ratio of production costs to quality alone, may prove to be the worst movie of 2004.

—Aaron Hillis