'Dragged Across Concrete' review

It's only April, but I sincerely doubt many 2019 films will generate as much heated controversy as Dragged Across Concrete. Despite its status as a direct-to-VOD action epic, S. Craig Zahler's latest nasty slice of hard-boiled pulp has become a somewhat unlikely source of discussion   or maybe it's really not that surprising. After all, the film stars Mel Gibson, who remains a hugely unpopular figure in many circles, even after Hollywood embraced his directorial comeback in the aftermath of racist and anti-Semitic comments. In an even more uncomfortable twist (considering Gibson's past statements), Dragged Across Concrete finds the Australian screen icon and co-star Vince Vaughn playing a duo of cops with a penchant for brutality and casual racism, who spout off the kind of Trump-era rhetoric we're all too familiar with at this point.


It all sounds like a recipe for disaster, especially in the self-indulgent hands of Zahler, who has made a career out of extremely long and shockingly violent action movies, a genre classification that can only be used in the loosest and most liberal sense of the word "action." Did I mention that Dragged Across Concrete runs 159 minutes in length? After suffering through the icky, ugly, and profoundly punishing Brawl in Cell Block 99 (also starring Vaughn), I was truly dreading a return to the Zahler-verse. Hell, I even avoided watching Bone Tomahawk, one of the most acclaimed Westerns of the past decade, simply because my taste for Zahler's work had soured so severely after watching Cell Block 99.

So imagine my surprise when I found myself enthralled by Dragged Across Concrete, a tricky, ambitious, and gripping vigilante drama that doesn't deserve its growing reputation as a piece of right-wing propaganda. Nobody can deny that Gibson and Vaughn are playing racist characters with no moral compass and a love for cruelty, but they also happen to be the butt of the film's main joke. It's a movie about two guys who think they're the heroes of their story, the grumpy old cowboys defined by the kind of self-righteous attitudes that can only come from a healthy diet of Fox News and InfoWars.

But this isn't their movie and they're certainly not the heroes. And everything they believe in and everything they choose to neglect in favor of their own selfishness brings them closer to a fate they can't escape.

In case you're wondering, the real protagonist of the story is Henry Johns (Tory Kittles), an African-American man who's finally returning home after a prison stint. What Henry finds upon his return isn't exactly great   his mother has slipped into prostitution, while his disabled younger brother (Myles Truitt) is an aspiring game designer stuck in poverty. But with the help of longtime friend Biscuit (Michael Jai White), Henry might just be able to get his family out of this untenable situation. Biscuit has inside information on a gold bullion heist, which is being run by wealthy mastermind Lorentz Vogelmann (Thomas Kretschmann) and a pair of ruthless assassins. As long as Henry and Biscuit do their jobs, they'll get a cut of this fortune.

So where do Gibson and Vaughn fit into this equation? Well, we meet Brett Ridgeman (Gibson) and Anthony Lurasetti (Vaughn) outside a drug dealer's apartment, where they're prepared to make an arrest and seize a large amount of paraphernalia. When Vasquez (Noel) tries to escape, Ridgeman employs his own brand of "justice," stepping on the dealer's head and pushing it into the ground. Later, while interrogating Vasquez's girlfriend, Ridgeman and Lurasetti reinforce just how awful they're capable of being by pretending not to understand the woman and arresting her even after a promised immunity deal. Nice guys, they are not.

It's initially just another day in their twisted universe, but Chief Lieutenant Calvert (Don Johnson) soon calls in with some bad news: someone captured their actions on a cell phone video. Ridgeman and Lurasetti are suspended without pay, leaving them in financial and personal limbo for a few weeks. They're prepared to just ride it out, but Ridgeman has another plan, one that involves working outside the law on the Vogelmann heist. Yes, it's a risk, but who should get that money   corrupt criminals or some hard-working scumbags like Ridgeman and Lurasetti?

From this setup, the film unfolds at Zahler's trademark snail's pace, relishing in each little detail and sound of this nightmare world. The inescapable threat of violence in Zahler's films means that every single scene features a certain degree of tension, where a lingering feeling of unease and dread begins to settle in even if nothing ominous is happening. Of course, this framework isn't all that different from Cell Block 99   so why does this one work so much better? Chalk it up to the cinematography from Benji Bakshi, which features a crisper, prettier sheen of grit and grime that's somehow easier on the eyes than his previous work with the filmmaker. There's careful and considerate attention to atmosphere throughout, and while Dragged Across Concrete undeniably drags (pun intended) in spots, the deliberate, conversational nature of the storytelling never feels quite as vain or indulgent as it theoretically should. It amplifies Zahler's aims, rather than reducing them to gory rubble.

In its own sprawling, detailed fashion, Dragged Across Concrete comes into focus as a distinctly Zahlerian riff on Quentin Tarantino's crime tapestries, where extraordinarily bleak humor and a grittier sensibility replace the famed auteur's penchant for extravagant pastiche. With the freedom to take random left turns and explore theoretically unnecessary diversions, Zahler leaves no stone unturned in this crazy sliver of reality. Whether it's the tragic story of Kelly Summer (Jennifer Carpenter) or a tense robbery executed by one of Vogelmann's assassins, the greater story is well served by these digressions, which are often punctuated with a burst of horrific, clinical violence. Still, when Zahler isn't shocking his audience, there's great fun to be had here, as an emphasis on awkward, genuinely dark laughter and more obvious flashes of humor quickly comes into play. Even devoid of its loftier aims, this unique concoction makes for a great swirl of guilty pleasure pulp.

*Spoilers will follow.*

Once you adjust to the prickly humor and tense pacing, it eventually feels like Zahler is creating his own cops'n'robbers version of The Hateful Eight, Tarantino's uncannily insightful potboiler about the American condition, circa 2015. For those in need of a refresher, that film ends with Samuel L. Jackson's Marquis Warren (the only African-American character) and Walton Goggins' grotesquely racist Chris Mannix putting aside their differences and teaming up to defeat the most hateful of them all, even in the face of near-certain death. For a film that seemed to expose so much ugliness in such an unflinching manner, I remember feeling like it was an oddly hopeful moment. But in a post-Trump, post-Charlottesvile world, what once felt profound now feels a little more like naivete, an ideal rather than a reality.

Through some drawn-out, very violent circumstances, Dragged Across Concrete ends with Ridgeman and Henry as the last two men standing. At first, it feels like we're entering Hateful Eight territory, though it's even more preachy and unrealistic with Gibson's character involved. For a split-second, it's like the film is saying, "See! Everybody gets along when push comes to shove." Zahler, pushing the narrative to the brink, leads you to believe that his film will confirm all your worst fears for just long enough to make you feel a sense of doom. And then, almost predictably, he subverts it all. Ridgeman, in his own paranoid and prejudiced way, can't trust a person of color long enough to preserve his fortune. His lack of decency, his racism, his shifty nature   these are the things that mark his downfall.

In those final moments, justice is served, and Zahler's political ambiguity gives way to a statement that is incisive and brutally accurate. The joke is on Gibson's character   and Gibson himself   in the end, and it's Henry who comes out on top. As sharply established by the metaphorical video game played by his brother throughout the film, it's big game hunting season, and Henry has taken out some of the biggest lions in the pack. Zahler's film ultimately finds its way to some semblance of a moral equilibrium, moving past the vigilante stupidity of its main stars to paint a picture of what it takes to beat the system in America. It's a snapshot of the moment   heinous violence, murky politics, and unlikable leads are just part of the whole package.

THE FINAL GRADE:  A-                                             (8.6/10)


Images courtesy of Lionsgate

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