Ray Pride

John Carpenter's 1976 "Assault on Precinct 13" is one of the grubbier movies to be beloved by a couple generations of film fanatics.

Itself a take on Howard Hawks' 1959 "Rio Bravo," the terse ambush thriller fell between Carpenter's spacey "Dark Star" and the commercial breakout of "Halloween," and it's a small gem of no-budget craft, suggesting a fortress under siege by faceless shapes outside the characters' control.

2005's "Assault on Precinct 13" is another prospect altogether, and a raffish surprise, the simple, cynical pleasures of an American action B-picture tricked out by a French director with a diverse CV and an interest in other kinds of movies and pop art.

Richet's once-negligible English is now good enough to work with an American screenwriter and American actors for a personal take on U.S. urban-movie fashions. Richet couldn't have managed eight years earlier, despite the confidence of Pascal Caucheteux, his producer on his second feature, the rap-infused urban thriller "Crack City," who was convinced they could remake Carpenter's movie as a way to explore the Western genre and cinematic claustrophobia at the same time. The fact they gave Carpenter a vintage French poster of "Rio Bravo" on first meeting presumably helped.

In the intervening years, Richet turned to another art form he'd dabbled in while directing: producing rap records, including France's top acts as well as KRS-One, Cypress Hill, Mobb Deep and Afrika Bambaataa. With this background, Richet says, he was reluctant to portray a dark, faceless urban menace, and turned to another plot device for his efficient retooling: bad cops.

The movie starts in a flurry of Steppenwolf-style, amped-up, hyped-to-high-heaven actory energy in a scene where Jake Roenick's (Ethan Hawke) undercover-cop days come to a quick and violent end. The story moves briskly to early New Year's Eve, as an antiquated precinct at the edge of Detroit is about to close for good. Lush waves of snow begin to fall. Jake, distrustful career cop Jasper O'Shea (jocular Brian Dennehy) and desk secretary Iris (a particularly rough-edged Drea de Matteo) are left to finish the packing and toast at midnight. A visit from Jake's OCD-afflicted therapist, Alex (Maria Bello), over- or more likely, under-dressed for later in the evening, leads to a bout of raunchy banter. (Alex has a neat aside about her compulsions: of OCD, she says, "I hide behind its structure.") Still, this is the kind of iconic, not especially ironic homage to R-rated movies of old that, along with abrupt violence, includes lines like, "You were a whole different other bad-ass motherfucker back there." Richet also works in a fistful of allusions to the Hawksian code of honor in his original Western, as well as a couple of Dean Martin songs to allude to that actor's effortless turn in "Rio Bravo."

Crosscut with this is the arrest of a drug lord, Bishop (Lawrence Fishburne), and concern about whether he can survive the night in the company of the police. A prison-transport bus with Bishop, as well as several other characters, played by, among others, Ja Rule and John Leguizamo (as a particularly enthusiastic conspiracy-minded meth user), is diverted to the near-defunct precinct as a blizzard turns the night to a mess of smear and shadow and snow. Setup done, the banter continues and mayhem and carnage ensue, aided by the editing of Brian DePalma's and Charles Stone III's customary editor, Bill Pankow, and cinematographer Robert Gantz, whose work shines in the chase climax.

In person, Jean-François Richet has the kind of shaggy, unshaven, sheepish Euro-charm usually seen when a female friend says, "Oh! You have to meet my new French, Italian, etc. boyfriend!" Richet's English is charming, filled with shrugs and agreements, utterances of "Yes!" and citations of 1960s and 1970s antiheroes like Steve McQueen, with little or no elaboration. So, I ask about the handcuffs used to hold a door shut: "It seems twice you're referring to Stroheim's `Greed'?" "Yes!" A pause: mine, expectant; his, complete. Were you thinking of the restrained, fashion-savvy police thrillers of your countryman, Jean-Pierre Melville? "Yes!" Fishburne's ragingly violent pimptastic suit seems like it could be inspired by the recently reissued "Le Cercle Rouge"? "Yes!" So for you, he's a master? "Yes, I am sorry, but the meaning. I understand the words, but..."

When he began collaborating on the project, about the time he shifted his career toward rap, his English was even more rudimentary, yet he managed to get a few sly and taciturn performances from his cast. For a movie about moments more than about rich psychological subtext, Richet cannily chose a cast comprised mostly of stage-trained actors. Fishburne, taciturn yet ever-expressive, even manages to turn a goofy bit of flirtation with de Matteo, explaining the difference between "Eros" and "Thanatos" into something silken as well as amusing. Hawke, on the other hand, is loving the big scowls his increasingly bony 34-plus face affords him. Even when the verbiage is weary, Hawke puts extra spin on his embodiment of the alcohol and Secanol-stoked Jake.

What other directors, I wonder, influenced the gritty, violent style of the movie? "Eisenstein... and Eastwood... and Godard," he says. I cannot help but say, "Yikes!" Why Godard? "Ummmm. Like Griffith? Like Chaplin? He sees cinema as a laboratory.... You can try anything." Another genial pause. "Godard," he says. "Yes!"

"Assault on Precinct 13" is now playing.

(2005-01-18)

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