It’s good to see that “The Real Housewives” hasn’t cornered the market on pretty people doing ugly things in Orange County. It’s good to see that “The Real Housewives” hasn’t cornered the market on pretty people doing ugly things in
It’s good to see that “The Real Housewives” hasn’t cornered the market on pretty people doing ugly things in Orange County.
“Savages,” the grisly story of a couple of Laguna Beach, Calif., pot growers drawn into a war with a Mexican cartel, takes its attractive stars — including Taylor Kitsch, Blake Lively, Salma Hayek and Benicio Del Toro — and adds some rough edges — a few scars here, a terrible mustache there — before siccing them on each other with such gusto, it’s hard to tell who the real savages are.
Best friends Ben (Aaron Johnson, “Kick-Ass”), a philanthropic, peace-loving botanist who’s taken 99 percent of the violence out of the pot trade, and Chon (Kitsch, “Friday Night Lights”), a former Navy SEAL who handles the other 1 percent, grow some of the world’s finest marijuana, developed from seeds Chon smuggled home from Afghanistan.
And life is good, with their gorgeous home, its breathtaking view and a shared girlfriend named O (Lively, “Gossip Girl”), who’s not so bad herself.
Their relationship, though, is as tangled as Ben’s bohemian curls. So when the Baja Cartel runs into a supply problem, O is the most obvious pressure point the Mexicans can exploit to get their hands on Ben and Chon’s weed that’s 10 times more potent than what the cartel’s been distributing.
Before long, she’s kidnapped, kept in a cage or chained to a wall under 24-hour video surveillance like something out of one of the “Saw” movies.
Not surprisingly, things only go downhill from there, leading up to the sort of chaos the likes of which Laguna Beach hasn’t seen since Kristin and L.C. went after each other on its namesake MTV series.
Directed by Oliver Stone and based on the best-seller by Don Winslow, who co-wrote the screenplay with Stone and Shane Salerno, “Savages” is essentially the story of the trio being sucked into a world of unimaginable violence. But the film’s at its best when focusing on its colorful, complex supporting characters.
As a corrupt DEA agent, John Travolta embraces his inner character actor like rarely before. It’s a joy to watch him squirm. Hayek, looking like a cartel Cleopatra, is equally at home orchestrating the violence from Mexico or fawning over her college-aged daughter. But as her ruthless enforcer, Del Toro hijacks the movie early and often with a vicious, sadistic glee.
Del Toro’s Lado is the type who’ll maim you, kill you, take a photo of your corpse with his phone and snort your coke on his way out the door. At one point, he literally twirls his mustache.
When he and Travolta come face to face, it’s like a couple of aging heavyweights, sizing each other up, both surprised to find themselves still in the ring.
And as good as it is to see Del Toro back in top form — he’s spent far too much of the past decade lying low —
“Savages” also marks a welcome return for Stone, who delivers all the requisite visual flourishes without the controversial baggage associated with many of his films.
Still, while it’s an easy movie to admire, it’s a tough one to love.
From the video of severed heads and mutilated corpses the cartel sends Ben and Chon as a warning, to the horrific fate meted out to a presumed mole, the movie’s graphic violence is rarely more than a rapid heartbeat away. “Savages” is so full of menace, it’s hard to believe the filmmakers were able to keep Danny Trejo away from the set.
And it’s narrated by Lively’s O — as in, “Ohmygawd is she still talking?” — who isn’t nearly as deep or as interesting as she believes.
With its sun-drenched beaches and tanned flesh to spare, “Savages” has the feel of an endless summer. And while it’s not a season any of the characters would want to remember, the hottest months are turning into a box-office blessing for grown-ups.
On the heels of “Magic Mike” and “Ted,” there are finally multiple reasons for adults to feel good about going to the multiplex.
Not the least of which is sitting back and watching a bunch of pretty people getting stoned. And Stoned.
Christopher Lawrence is the film critic for the Las Vegas (NV) Review-Journal. Contact him at clawrence@reviewjournal.com
