I can't do it.
I can't even muster up the courage to say, “Well, at least Chris Tucker is back up on the big screen again.”
Really, that was my only hope for “Rush Hour 3,” the most cliched, hackneyed, watered down, homogenized slice of big-budget drivel to be coughed out of a computer in recent memory. And this is coming from a fan of the series.
Every cliché is covered, every plot point is clearly mapped. They don't even bother to reheat these leftovers. They are just served cold.
This film is a swimming pool in Jackie Chan's back yard. It's a new Ferrari for Chris Tucker's garage. It's an escort service debt paid off for director Brett Ratner.
What it is not, is entertainment. Everyone involved in this bloated, belated sequel makes as little an effort as possible to fill the franchise's six-year absence (not that anyone was particularly longing for another installment).
As mentioned I truly enjoyed the first films, appreciating them for their breezy chemistry between Jackie Chan's Keaton-esque physicality and Tucker's motor-mouthed histrionics. It was derivative, but there was just enough humor and heart to buoy it above the fray.
But there is never a moment during “Rush Hour 3's” run time that convinces me that everyone was in this for something other than a paycheck. Hell, this may even classify as a zombie movie the way everyone – and I mean behind the camera as well – seems to have lumbered about like a somnambulist convention.
You can rattle off the buddy-movie bromides with ease:
Humor derived from ethnic stereotypes.
Horribly trained henchmen who can't hit the side of a barn at three feet.
A bound-and-gagged female hostage.
Wherever Tucker and Chan travel in the world (this time, France), the only black and Asian females in the room flirt with them.
The third-person shooter who, out of nowhere, kills a bad guy mere nanoseconds before said evildoer is to shoot our hero.
The chief villain's expository speech before attempting to kill the heroes.
The duplicitous government agent who at first seems like a helpful fella.
The closing door that our hero narrowly slides under seconds before closing.
A gun being out of ammo just as the dramatic music swells to a crescendo.
The ubiquitous, unnecessary car chase.
Sadly, the list could continue. But since screenwriter Jeff Nathanson obviously put no effort into this, neither will I.
And if sheer boredom from these tired formulas don't work, “Rush Hour 3” seems as though it's trying to be offensive. I am far from a prude and an admirer of his work, but what was the reason to cast the reclusive director Roman Polanski, a convicted rapist of a 13 year old, as a jelly-fingered Parisian cop who performs a cavity search on our heroes then winks at them when they later complain about it?
There was a little-seen film released last year called “Idiocracy,” which (quite hilariously) depicted the dumbing down of our culture in the near future. The most popular film of the year (which went on to win the Oscar)? “Ass,” a shot of a hieney for two hours that would occasionally pass gas or get scratched or something. After viewing “Rush Hour 3,” I yearn for “Ass 2: Breaking the Wind.”
Tucker was a talented man before he decided to sell his celluloid soul to become some wide-eyed buffoon ... Here is the site for the Chris Tucker Foundation ( http://www.christuckerfoundation.org/), which promises to give help to children of South Africa infected with HIV.
I urge you, if you are contemplating even renting “Rush Hour 3” on DVD, donate your money here instead.
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