Cinemalphabet: X is for xXx (2002)

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Vin Diesel? I will watch him in anything, but particularly love the movies with more moxie than plot. I love his aversion to chow chow or an conversation, even if its necessary. I also enjoy how he seems to get bored with a franchise and passes it to someone else, who is usually entertaining, but not too entertaining. Vin’s shadow looms large over his orphaned franchises.

And Roger Ebert was feeling me too:

See, I like all this stuff, at least when it’s done well. Diesel’s gruff, monosyllabic style is refreshing as a counterpoint to the gung-ho action, and the romantic scenes with the beautiful Yelena consist of two kisses, because Xander has a world to save.

While I didn’t especially find xXx to be quite the careful study of Bond, I understand and appreciate Ebert’s point. The Bond framing is more send up than careful study and it’s hilarious. What I like about xXx is the thorough deconstruction of the action spy genre. It’s like the whole genre was a muscle car the director Rob Cohen took apart and used it as a guide to build his own, except Cohen opted to strip away anything that didn’t contribute to muscle, moxie or speed. And xXx is all about the moxie, muscle and speed. If you’re not careful the damn plot – Xander Cage, a freelance daredevil is recruited for some important task – could blow right past you.

It took me three times to get through the entire movie. The first time was the day it open in theaters and after Asia Argento slinked on camera I swiftly fell asleep! Only to be poked rather harshly by the pimply teenager armed with a push broom and a trashcan. The second time I opted for a more private screening and got no further that the previous screening. The third time I drank coffee, I took a nap and ate a light dinner. Armed with a determination out of proportion with the task at hand I was finally able to get this film watched. And I absolutely loved it. Until the third screening I didn’t even realize Sam L. Jackson was in this motherfucker.

And my god, Vin and that damn coat. hubba hubba hubba. Love me a big, bald man in a big furry coat.

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