Movie Review: LADDER 49

The ReviewOlogist returns with his latest review of the just-released LADDER 49:

“Ladder 49” Crashes And Burns By The ReviewOlogist There are some films that are truly great. They thrill you, tug at your heartstrings, and make you feel good about your life. They go down in history as crowning cinematic achievements, a wondrous combination of direction, writing, and acting. They defy genres, blast away preconceived notions, and reflect the world through their unique lens. Ladder 49 is about as far from those films as you can get. This celluloid dung pile, which lacks even the heat to steam, will reach at your stomach, toss it up in the air, and poke holes in it, as you sit there, wracking your brain in a feeble attempt to make some otherworldly kind of sense from the beyond-wooden acting, the surpassing-asinine writing, and the banal, trite, offensive, and traumatizing direction. With a bit of research, I found that this hunk of worthless cinematic vomitus was brought to you by the brilliant minds behind Gigli, Flashdance, and Police Academy 5 & 6. Yes, this crack team decided that what America really needs is a good old-fashioned buddy movie. Or a weepy, inspirational tale, complete with beyond-tasteless music by William Ross and The Band’s Robbie Robertson. Or possibly an action drama, with explosions and rescues and the repeated shouting of orders. Of course, by trying to mash all of these ingredients into the proverbial waffle iron of filmmaking, it becomes none of these things, but is instead a soulless, worthless Hallmark card of a “story”, if you could even venture to call it that, which nobody on the face of the planet should be allowed to view, and which few shall. Hopefully, this film will be out of the theaters in no more than a week, and there shall be a limitless void of DVD sales, and we can put this whole turgid affair behind us. Do you really want to know the story? Do you? I’ve seen the film, and I still don’t want to know the story. Well, here goes: Brave firefighter Jack Morrison (portrayed by a wooden plank – oh, wait, sorry – Joaquin Phoenix) is brave enough to bravely brave the fires under the brave eye of his brave captain, the brave Mike Kennedy (portrayed by a probably-drunk-when-he-signed-the-contract John Travolta), and the brave crew of the bravest firehouse in all of the brave city of Baltimore, the brave Ladder 49. There’s bonding. And bonding. Then, TRAGEDY! Bonding. Now, action! Tragedy. Bonding bonding bonding. Action. Bonding. Tragedy-action. And finally, bonding over a tragedy during action. We roll credits against interminable 1980’s style muzak. If that’s not enough to make you run away from this film screaming and flailing your arms in the air, consider the ridiculous dialogue like: “Get that treated. Your shift’s over. Merry Christmas.” And: “Move move move move move!” They used that one a lot. Or, if that’s still not enough, how about the direction that looked like it was done by a new commission at an insane asylum? The action sequences that actually made explosions seem tedious? The fact that it takes so long for the filmmakers to get a point across that before they finish, you could grow fingernails long enough to rip out your own eyes and ears? The sequence where the cast gets up and sings “Fire”? The bad moustaches? Surely that’s enough to make you flee! Your time and money would be better spent paying a hobo 9 bucks to whomp you in the shins with a baseball bat for an hour and 55 minutes. At least then, you wouldn’t be in as much pain as you would be if you watched this movie the whole way through.

Ladder 49 is playing at a theater near too close to you.