Liam Vs. Paul: Chaperone & Unknown

Big Liam Neeson—the 6-foot-4, 200-pound Irish character actor who went from bit player in John Boorman’s mythic Excalibur to humanist paragon in Spielberg’s Schindler’s List, followed by a combination of mythic and historical figure in Neil Jordan’s Irish epic Michael Collins—could yet become a great movie star through his recent trajectory into action-movie roles. After 2009′s Taken, in which he rousingly portrayed a twofisted American father who rescues his kidnapped daughter from Eurotrash terrorists, Neeson repeats stout-thewed heroism as another valiant American in the action flick Unknown.

Paul Levesque, the 6-foot-4, 255-pound, ripped pro-wrestler (also known as Triple H), eases into action cinema in The Chaperone, playing Ray Bradstone, an ex-con whose attempt to repair his failure as a father leads him to combine a grade-school field trip while confronting bad elements from his criminal past. It’s a blatant exploitation film (what Variety calls "an actioner"), yet its obviousness, keyed to Levesque’s squared-circle appeal, is humorous. His sincere showbiz approach to a he-man’s moral agony (and sensitivity) alleviates the dour atmosphere that plagues Unknown. It might seem ideal to combine The Chaperone’s bright sense of humor with Unknown’s dark toughness, yet it’s The Chaperone that comes closer to resolving how masculinity turns into humanity.

Not fraught with serious-actor pretenses, Levesque burlesques machismo—and wins this week’s faceoff with Neeson. The Chaperone goes for franchise potential like Tom Berenger in The Principal, but peaks when Ray explains to his daughter Sally (Ariel Winter, a Carla Gugino-type emotional dynamo) that his idea of manhood comes from Sinatra: "Frank’s music gave me hope. ‘Nothing’s impossible I have found/ For when my chin is on the ground/ I pick myself up/ Dust myself off/ Start all over again.’ We both turned our lives around, you know." Confidence and melody give the Bronsonian-genre unexpected charm. Director Stephen Herek (The Mighty Ducks) seems to know it, letting Ray play cupid to a nerd who thanks him insightfully: "You can play that, you know, big strong, lean, handsome-in-that-ruggedkind-of-way, devil-may-care, man’s man all you want Mr. Bradstone. You have a tender side that can’t be denied, my friend."

By playing to an actor’s existential career quandary, Unknown is partly about a man’s discovery of his own conscience—the identity of which he was previously unaware. In middle age, Neeson has found perfect expression of his physical impact and acting skill, and finally seems ready for it. When he punches out a guy in Taken and Unknown, you can feel the righteousness of it, just as you could in later John Wayne films like McLintock! or North to Alaska. The role of Martin Harris—a man suddenly involved in political intrigue when he loses consciousness while on a trip to Germany—gets quite complicated, with plot developments that frankly seem borrowed from Polanski-style psychic anxiety like Frantic and Bitter Moon (full of blithe references to Germany’s Communist and Nazi past, contemporary terrorism and sexual infidelity), but what works is Neeson’s physicalized sense of valor, like when Martin and an illegal Bosnian immigrant (Diane Kruger) help resolve each other’s dilemma.

This gets at the deeper purpose of action-movie heroism. When Martin explains to former Stasi official Bruno Ganz, "It’s the war between being who you are and knowing who you are," he could as well be describing the fundamental reasons people respond to take-charge, ass-kicking valor. It’s a long-standing cultural need, especially important in the post-9/11 era, yet, ironically, misunderstood due to recent political confusion. Unknown touches on the crisis, but director Jaume- Collet Serra and his screenwriters aren’t serious enough or the action adept enough to fully articulate it. That wasn’t a problem with Taken—another of producer Luc Besson’s ingenious explications of pop culture and political consciousness. Besson outfitted Neeson’s middle-age authority the same way he perfectly book-ended John Travolta’s post-Tarantino career revival with the excellent From Paris With Love, a film that righted the apolitical nihilism of Pulp Fiction with the brawny, yet humane, approach to 9/11 anxiety.

Unknown lacks Besson’s great instincts.

It’s slickly—yet crudely—made, but the crudeness turns out to be its most redeeming factor: Martin keeps a lifesaving journal given to him by his father that clearly evokes Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. When Martin becomes a spy inside his own amnesia then rediscovers his natural disposition, his retort to a bad guy—"I haven’t forgotten how to kick your ass!"—is worth a standing ovation. Neeson performs this complexly. His vengeance has a menacing aspect—going after the villain with Frankensteinian tenacity (a mirror shard in his fist), his look is fearsome. In that moment, Kruger regards him with remarkable gentleness; her political refugee (who had advised Martin,

"What matters is what you do now!") is clearly awed at the image of a global force that threatens or heals.

George Clooney could never play this kind of role. He started to in his first theatrical film, The Peacemaker, but then Clooney found media favor playing various seditious rebels. Clooney doesn’t believe in the virtue of American anger and vengeance, but Neeson has luckily fallen into that characterization—probably as a career-saving tactic. Neeson, however, also makes it a satisfying genre exercise. If he hooks up with Besson again, Neeson could turn unknown virtue into satisfaction.

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Unknown
Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra Runtime: 113 min.

The Chaperone
Directed by Stephen Herek

At Village East Cinemas, Runtime: 103 min.