SHANGHAI NOON (2000) *** There are only a few reasons that this film works so well-funny script, great execution, near flawless pacing, and every 10 minutes Jackie Chan kicks someone's ass in innovative and improbable ways with whatever's lying around in a kung fu way. But the main, #1, reason this works so well is the brilliant casting of Owen Wilson as the nasal banal twisted-nosed desert philosopher nemesis/sidekick with a California melodrone for a voice. Wilson is instinctively perfect in timing and delivery, authentically downcast and downbeat but full of hope for any improbable future. It's a performance for the ages. Meanwhile back at the ranch the screenwriters effortlessly forget about characters entirely, not even leaving them out on a limb or anything, until they want them to say or do something in which event their sudden reappearance neither deserves nor necessitates explanation. The writers writhe in a shameless world of their own making, wallowing in the sands of a time (well it is a western) oblivious to political correctness. They don't assault political correctness head-on mind you, they just fail to notice its existence to wonderful effect. A couple superficial buddy issues that need be resolved slow the end up just a bit but by then Mssrs. Chan and Wilson have deserved indulgence, and it gives the audience time to wipe their eyes before they leave the theater, so people don't think they left some sappy weepy artsy monstrosity. Absolutely unambitious, unless you consider making happy people laugh a worthy cinematic goal.
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