Red Heat (1988)

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trolling into a Russian bath house, almost nude and with a blank expression – quite a bit like a Terminator – Captain Ivan “Iron Jaw” Danko (Arnold Schwarzenegger, looking as statuesque as ever) doesn’t exactly blend in. Indeed, he’s a policeman there to do some interrogating, which puts him on the trail of Georgian drug runner Viktor Rosta (Ed O’Ross), who is rumored to be holed up in a cafe. After a brief but comical fistfight in the snow outside the spa, Ivan sets about demolishing Viktor’s thugs at the bar, including killing the gangster’s brother in self-defense, though Ivan’s partner is gunned down in the raid.

“Where is your evidence?” demands a defiant brute, to which Ivan responds, silently, with a massive uppercut. These kinds of bold, macho, rambunctious confrontations, often involving the spontaneous discharging of firearms, are the norm for a typical Schwarzenegger flick. So too are highly contrasting, wisecracking, comic-relief partners; here, the goofy counterpart arrives in the form of chatterbox Chicago Sergeant Art Ridzik (James Belushi), who comes into the fold when Rosta flees Russia for the United States, intending to continue his lucrative cocaine dealings abroad. The plot doesn’t need to get more complicated from this point; it expectedly dwells on the insincere relationship between the stony Soviet and the jokey detective as they catch crooks and solve crimes.

“You look like Gumby.” The matchup is fine, but Belushi’s character is a little too abrasive to amusingly clash with the stern bodybuilder; he’s not funny enough to be the required lighthearted complement (sadly, several of his jokes are repeated, which is a notably deficient way to script the role; the dialogue is one of the weakest elements of the film), nor is he believably tough enough to be an equal. This tends to work against the action scenes, which aren’t bad, considering their focus on heavy-hitting physical brawls that incorporate plenty of collateral damage and destruction. But where they should be both exciting and humorous, they’re instead just violent and uninspired. A good-cop/bad-cop routine works better, however, with Ridzik serving more effectively as a guide for Danko to navigate the different world into which he’s stepped, yet neither of these personas appear to be having a good time. They’re oddly lifeless protagonists.

“I saw ‘Doctor Zhivago.’” The culture clash (where this film could have set itself apart) is unfortunately exceptionally basic, with generic stereotypes (Danko likes chess and vodka), fish-out-of-water adapting, plain conversations about socialism/capitalism, and minor political considerations. With the Cold War still relevant (though warming; the production got to shoot a few days in Moscow), this actioner should have leaned harder into the cooperative nature of East and West, with operational discrepancies, bonding over grim pasts, and hard-earned trust and camaraderie winning out in matters of high-stakes, life-or-death encounters. Some of that is present, but in woefully slim portions. Instead, the bulk of the runtime gets eaten up by stale criminal enterprises – even if a handful contain engaging showdowns – and the commonplace supplements of a fed-up commander (Peter Boyle), a no-nonsense lieutenant (Laurence Fishburne), and a slim moll in over her head (Gina Gershon). Even James Horner’s music isn’t enough to stand out, nor is Walter Hill’s involvement (as writer, producer, and director). Schwarzenegger is watchable in yet another guns-and-stunts adventure, but this production is entirely forgettable (save, perhaps, for the game of chicken with buses at the finale).

– Mike Massie