Director: Jessy Terrero
Starring: Curtis ’50 Cent’ Jackson, Forest Whitaker, Robert De Niro
Running time: 96 minutes
Certificate: 18
Extras: N/A
Unless your hobbies include snorting cocaine off six-packs, having gratuitous (and badly filmed) sex with prostitutes, being incredibly racist, selling drugs to children or murdering random civilians, it’s unlikely you’ll find a character in CROSSFIRE that’s easy to relate to. Or indeed, that’s likeable in any way, shape or form.
Such are the events which make up the 96 minutes of runtime CROSSFIRE somehow manages to fill, lead by none other than renowned, veteran actor Curtis ’50 Cent’ Jackson. Only kidding. About the veteran bit, that is – Fiddy is indeed in the lead role of this film. Maybe you can see where the problems stem from. Nevertheless, to put all the blame on Jackson is to blame the downfall of the Second Reich squarely on Hitler. He may have a central role, but we can’t forget the scriptwriters, directors or producers. But wait, 50 has a producer credit too! So maybe we can blame him a bit more, then.
Before I continue, perhaps I should fill you in on what meagre plot CROSSFIRE attempts to cram into its first and last 15 minutes (everything else is pretty much redundant on the story front). Jackson plays criminal-turned-cop Malo (pronounced Mar-lowe, in case you were wondering), through some murmured back story we’re supposed to accept, and then forget about until the last 15 minutes. Do you see a repeating theme here?
Anyway, Malo falls in with the wrong crowd once on the force, thus initiating the grievous actions described at the start of this review, because that’s what the NYPD do, apparently. An hour later and we’ve arrived at the crux of the ‘plot’: Malo’s attempts to avenge his father’s death and get one up on the corrupt organisation which he has happily been a member of and has given him all he desires for the past hour.
At least, this is as much as I could grasp from my viewing. Jackson and co essentially murmur their way through the script (which is also horrendous), and it’s hard to get a handle on what the hell is actually going on. I’m pretty sure there was some sort of subplot involving dealings with the head of the corrupt squad and another big cheese down at the cracker factory, but I’ll be damned if I can tell you what it was. (That’s not a suggestion to go and find out for yourselves, by the way.)
Forest Whitaker and Robert De Niro join Fiddy on his crusade against everyone, both out-acting him in an instant, despite both looking completely out of place. Clearly De Niro’s still trying to pay the bills, but this turgid romp is even less excusable than MEET THE FOCKERS. Which was pretty damn hard to excuse. A cameo by Vinnie Jones serves only for him to get beaten up far too easily by 50 Cent and a couple of lightweight cronies, followed by some of the worst acting since Hayden Christensen was allowed on the set of STAR WARS.
With some films, it’s easy to overlook a couple of flaws. With others, it’s hard to overlook the fact that there’s nothing but flaws. CROSSFIRE falls into the latter category. Give this one a miss. (Unless you’re a racist, drug dealing nymphomaniac with no morals and a child-centred consumer base, of course.)
Extras: None whatsoever. Says it all really.
You can buy CROSSFIRE on DVD from Monday 17th September here. (If you really want to.)
