I really have a sizable soft spot for movies that dispense with complicated plots and multiple destinations in favour of focusing entirely on incident. It’s a good way for a visually-minded director to cut their teeth and stretch their resourcefulness while utilising limited means with a minimal budget and when I first heard that Ben Wheatley was entering this arena while simultaneously venturing into slightly less indie territory, I couldn’t fucking wait.
What I got was Free Fire, a movie that essentially concerns itself with the events of a single gunfight that occurs between a bunch of thugs and morons over the space of around an hour and a half when an arms deal goes horribly wrong in an abandoned warehouse. But instead of going for the full, grandiose doves ‘n slo mo of John Woo, or even opting for the deafening sickness of Michael Mann, Wheatley chose to go hard with the detached sarcasm of a 90’s, Tarantino, wannabe. Did the choice click on an empty chamber, or did his whacko concept go full auto? Lock and load to find out.
In a cold, disused warehouse in Boston in 1978, two gangs meet for an uneasy gun sale that hopefully will bare fruits for both parties. On one side we have IRA members Chris, Frank, drugged out fuck up Stevo and the slow witted Bernie, who have arrived with intermediary Justine in order to meet with Ord, the smug, coiffed representative of arms dealer Vernon. Vernon, an egotistical South African who apparently was misdiagnosed as a child genius as a child and never got over it, is the man they are here to deal with and along with Ord, is flanked by Martin, Gordon and the quick tempered Harry, but despite some early tensions brought on by the usual, macho posturing, the deal for rifles goes ahead as planned.
Or at least it would have if Harry didn’t recognise Stevo as the guy he beat the shit out of the previous night for bottling his seventeen year old cousin in a night club and the argument rages until the inevitable occurs, someone pulls out a piece and fires the first bullet of the many that will go on to be discharged this night.
Chaos reigns as people hit the deck, spread out across the filthy warehouse floor and start collecting stinging flesh wounds like baseball cards, but instead of this being a slick, controlled action sequence, this collision of idiots and egos means that this life or death battle will be a clumsy, farcical affair without a shred of dignity to be found.
With no way out and there being more chance of a ceasefire being called in Indonesia than there is in this warehouse, the only salvation seems to be to make it up to the next floor and get to a working phone to call in reinforcements. However, with the arrival of a couple of mystery snipers, the minimal plot thickens – who among this crowd of untrustworthy criminals has proved to be even more untrustworthy than the rest?
Those coming to Wheatley’s gunpowder party expecting nuanced storytelling, complex characters and sprawling plot are going to quickly realise that they’re shit out of luck because the acclaimed helmer of such diverse and challenging films such as Kill List, A Field In England and Sightseers is going for a full, dark, sardonic farce where all of our characters are crooked pieces of crap and everyone is seemingly incapable of making a good decision to save their miserable lives.
Happily loading the script with morbid slapstick, far fetched plot twists and unbelievable instances of simple, bad luck, Free Fire is utterly unconserning in creating a realistic world and instead does out its grimy-yet-heightened reality with mischievous glee. Watching the familiar cast striding around in 70’s fashions and porn worthy facial hair adds to the utterly ludicrous nature of it all, although Whestly is wise not to have the physics slide into the arena of the cartoonish. Sure, the majority of the gunshot wounds these guys absorb like Sonic absorbs rings may not be fatal, but they do hurt like fuck and as the protected battle drags on, fatigue, blood loss and pulped muscle all start to take their toll.
The cast all realise that, not only are they part of an ensemble with no real lead, but they’re all secondary to the fact that the true star of the movie is the idiotic gunfight. This gives such names as Cillian Murphy, Brie Larson, Armie Hammer, Jack Reynor, Michael Smiley and Sharlto Copley permission to unleash their best character actor instincts and just have fun while they writhe around in the dirt and blood while spitting out verbal barbs that wound way more than any bullet.
Of all the misanthropes on display here, Copley’s stunningly unself aware Vernon is the most fun, screeching out a running commentary of everything that’s happening to him while jumping to the completely wrong conclusion about everything that transpires, but everyone gets their time to shine. In fact my favorite aspect of the flick probably might be the feud between Harry and the drug addled Stevo that kicks the whole off and its bloody (and darkly hilarious) conclusion may include one of the best uses of a John Denver song I’ve ever seen on film.
However, with such a movie comes certain, unavoidable issues and as everyone starts to bleed out by the end, so too does the story ultimately runs out of gas. Also, the fact that there is no true character to root for as practically everyone involved is a duplicitous turd may put off a lot of viewers who prefer the morals of their of their characters to be a little easier to follow. Finally, despite Wheatley’s flair for the morbidly ridiculous, to some, Free Fire isn’t going to be much more than a bunch of people rolling around on the floor while obscenities and bullets whizz every which way and I can see why that just won’t be everybody’s cup of tea.
Still, for those of you who do see the funny side of a bunch of twats getting into a fire fight so undignified, its participants either lose track of whoever’s still alive or even forget who’s side they’re even, the Free Fire is something of an untapped gem with razor sharp quips. From Stevo remarking that the wounds from his previous night’s beating “look like I tried to fuck a reluctant panda bear” or Harry sarcastically remarking how much he likes his bosses “cardboard armour” after Vernon tapes torn up boxes all over himself in a pathetic attempt to protect his open wounds from infection.
As flawed and imperfect as Free Fire may be, it’s also deeply likable in a cult movie sort of way and it’s truly rewarding to see a interesting filmmaker such as Ben Wheatley put his personal, off kilter spin on such an action oddity.
Free Fire’s aim may waver at times, but when it pulls the hammer back on an especially great moment, it shoots straight and true.
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