Cinemavenger

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Project Power


Given the current climate of ongoing protests against racially motivated police brutality and the fact that it's a cop movie allegedly starring Jamie "Redd" Foxx, I figured Project Power had to be a Black Lives Matter type flick. I was more wrong than wearing polka dots with plaid. It's actually a D-Grade superhero "film" with delusions of entertainment.


Foxx may be in it, but the real star is Joseph "Commissioner" Gordon-Levitt. He plays a cop in New Orleans. In case his on-again, off-again Southern accent and pasty white skin don't convince you that he's a N'awlins native, the fact that he spends most of his on-duty time running around in a Saints jersey is supposed to be your suspension bridge to belief. It is a bridge too fucking far.


Foxx plays some sort of trained soldier/spy/mercenary who's trying to save his daughter from a shady corporation that's testing a drug that gives people superpowers for five minutes. In what could be the worst business model since Cinemavenger's Covid Crumpets Day at various, empty MLB ballparks, the evil corporation is giving the drug away for free to street-level drug dealers who are then selling it for hundreds of dollars a pill.


On top of that, users have no idea what superpower they'll get. They might be able to fly, or become invisible, or go all Human Torch. Again, for five minutes. But for a good-sized and totally random number of people, the pill just makes them explode. If you're thinking that nothing about the pill or the company's non-FDA approved testing plan makes the first dick tip of sense, you are so not alone.


Netflix has doubled down on its strategy of using 90% of a movie's budget to hire one or two A-List stars in hopes that pure name recognition will put asses on couches. The two (two?) directors of Project Power have less experience than a virgin hooker, and I'm betting the ink isn't dry on its writer's driver's license, let alone his college diploma. All of which shows like nips through a wet, white t-shirt.


Speaking of titties, for a movie set in New Orleans, there's an unconscionable lack of boob-flashing or jazz on display. Other than a subtle reference to the fucked up Federal response to Hurricane Katrina, the characters could just as well be in New Haven.


Fight the (Project) Power!


September 11, 2020

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