●●○○○
“For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer,” reads a minister, solemnly, at the closed-casket funeral of Reginald Davis, a former NYPD officer. His young son, Andre (Christian Isaiah), sits in the pews with every intention of one day becoming that “avenger” – a single, well-timed tear falling down his face; an accidental parody, maybe, to Anthony Hopkins’ teardrop in The Elephant Man (David Lynch, 1980). And so, from these opening scenes, begins a moderately immersive, limp narrative, whose predictability is only just supported by the performance of its lead actor.
19 years later, Andre (now played by Chadwick Boseman) has grown up into a gaunt-faced, efficient killer of cop-killers – claiming the ‘DNA’ of his late, influential father – whilst also caring for his elderly mother, Vonetta (Adriane Lenox). “You gotta look the devil in the eye,” she forewarns, coincidentally, on the night of a surprise attack. Events domino when an ugly cocaine raid, led by ex-Afghanistan veterans Ray and Michael (Taylor Kitsch and Stephan James), leaves eight cops dead, and one-hundred pounds of uncut cocaine missing (from an original three-hundred kilogram). Unable to continue with their identities, the two slip into hiding, acquiring new names before their planned getaway to Miami. Pressured by Captain McKenna (J. K. Simmons) to apprehend the duo before 5 am city-time, Andre, partnered with Detective Frankie Burns (Sienna Miller), initiates the lockdown of Manhattan island – closing all 21 bridges, waterways, and underground networks – before they dramatically “flood the city with blue.”
Chadwick Boseman, in his first role since T’Challa in Black Panther (Ryan Coogler, 2018), is excellent in the role of Andre Davis, despite low performances across a stellar, ensemble cast. Little can be said for J. K. Simmons, whose loud-mouthed performance (winning him an Oscar in Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash (2014)) is here loosely parroted, offering laughs where before we might have trembled. Other ancillary, male characters otherwise form a backdrop of overly-serious, chiselled faces.
21 Bridges, although competently executed, is delivered more like a weak, Dirty Harry sequel than its clear James Bond-esque ambitions. Over its 100-minute runtime, director Brian Kirk allows a leisurely pace to the proceedings, in which, surprisingly, there is very little substance or plot to carry things forward. A brief hiatus to the apartment of a suspect, Leigh (Jamie Neumann), for example, takes over two hours to complete – according to the onscreen countdown – deflating any real sense of pressure. Credited producers Joe and Anthony Russo – following their incredible success with Avengers: Infinity War (2018) and Endgame (2019) – lend comic-book qualities to Kirk’s drama, action sequences taking precedence over muddled, colourless dialogue. It might as well be another serial of Scooby-Doo.
Originally titled 17 bridges – did they somehow forget 4 in the original draft? – this is a forgettable and mediocre blockbuster. You will find more interest in simply looking at bridges.
