Mark Wahlberg plays the titular character in "Max Payne," a movie based on the video game of the same name. The plot is loosely built around chaotic action sequences as it follows the path of a troubled cop confronting the demons that haunt him. Creative direction and a convincing performance propel this film past mere remake status, but the gratuitous portrayal of chaos and death grows tiresome as time goes on.
The film's trailers, though enthralling, are extremely misleading and give the impression of a showdown between a cop and an army of supernatural winged monsters, but that is not the case at all. These creatures are simply metaphorical, and the plot is much simpler than the advertisements would like you to believe.
Payne is a cop who gives up on his life after a brutal crime robs him of his family. While languishing in an underground office, he secretly plots his quest for vengeance. Wahlberg really gives the role some legs, managing to play the character with an edge without blowing it out of proportion as most B-list actors would tend to do.
One of the great things "The Departed" (2006) proved about Wahlberg was that he could coax an Oscar-nominated performance out of virtually nothing, and in this movie he burns with an intensity and twisted sense of justice that keeps Payne going until he can catch the bad guys. For Payne, this often means stepping outside of the law. His methods are direct and brutal; he tricks small-time thieves into giving up clues that he follows mercilessly. He takes what they give him and simply moves up the food chain.
Along the way, he gets wrapped up in a mystery surrounding a new party drug, Valkyr; its ominous symbol tagged on every grungy wall in sight. For a cop, Payne is awfully ignorant of signs like these, but that's the point -- he is no longer just a cop.
Director John Moore saturates every scene with visual cues and textures that add to the rich and dark film-noir setting. For instance, an internal affairs officer preaches temperance to Payne, but when Moore cuts back for a reaction shot, a blurred poster high on the wall over Payne's shoulder simply reads, "Show Them No Mercy."
That mantra never leaves his mind as he shoots and kills his way to the truth in beautiful slow motion. The technique is executed to perfection -- as Payne levels his gun and tears his way through an office building, a cascade of shredded paper fills the empty space so the eyes have something visual to accompany the sound of gunfire.
Moore toys with speed throughout the movie. He slows things down to a crawl, letting the viewer savor the precision of Payne's kills. Even in the midst of a gunfight, Payne can manage to put a bullet in a foe in such a way that it mitigates the all-out chaos of a firefight.
Themes and visuals -- revenge and guns in particular -- drive this film along a lot more than the actual story. Moore evidently realized this when he got the screenplay, as he translates the same things onto the silver screen that people look for in video games. The guns are big and brandished often. They get more screen time than both of the film's femme fatales, played by future Bond girl Olga Kurylenko and "That '70s Show" alum Mila Kunis.
Most of the visually interesting parts of this movie fail to lead the plot in any direction whatsoever. It's as if the characters run out of things to say and just start shooting at each other. They do it so frequently that, by the end, even Payne looks a little bored by it. Do not see this movie with any expectations of Oscar-worthy performances or a stellar story. Watch it to revel in the philosophical implications of a world where the equivalent of an awkward pause is pulling out an Uzi and killing a room full of security guards.
