Between Haywire and Steven Soderbergh's last film, Contagion, one could posit that
the director is very much in a period of genre exploration. To an extent,
he's always been this way. Soderbergh tends
to pick up 'typical' Hollywood fare (the heist film, the biopic) and generally
finds a way to elevate it just beyond expectations. Yet, Contagion and Haywire feel quite
different than the fun, high-kitsch aesthetic of something like the Oceans films. There's a minimalist sleekness
to each of them, a spartan nature that reads as an almost clinical dilution of
a larger, showier affair. Contagion and Haywire are each essentially B-movies that
have been considered, shot, and polished as if they were aspiring for the art
house. They lay out their bare-boned roots in such a confident, stylish manner
that you dare not say, for example, that Haywire has
a lot in common with your average Jason Statham actioner, or that Contagion is just another disaster
flick. Something about both films dismisses those ideas as ridiculous,
even though they’re really quite true.
Haywire is a film practically custom-built for
Gina Carano, a champion MMA fighter who -legend has it- Soderbergh caught on TV
and immediately saw as a real-life action heroine. Carano plays Mallory Kane, a highly skilled contracted
operative who picks up government jobs deemed too dirty for actual agents. After successfully completing a questionable
job in Barcelona, she finds herself double crossed and on the run from her
former co-workers. Spy vs. spy, assassin
vs. assassin; pretty much a whole lotta dudes trying to take down one very
tough lady. While Carano really isn’t
much of an actress, all the film really demands of her is what she already has:
mad stunt skills and a weirdly magnetic on-screen presence. The rest just isn’t the point, so who cares if
she sounds like the computer from Star
Trek when she speaks her lines? No
one expects real pathos from Schwarzenegger, why ask for it from Carano the
killing machine? All she really needs to
say is inherent in her irrepressible “I can take you” smirk, and when she’s on
screen, particularly during fight sequences, you believe there’s no way anyone
could beat her (physically or mentally).
Ewan McGregor shouldn’t even try.
Of course, McGregor, Michael Douglas, Michael Fassbender, and –in a
weird turn of events – Channing Tatum, pick up the bulk of the dramatic slack
here. It is their job to transform our
schlocky B-movie into something more elegant than the sum of its parts. They are the Bond girls (and M.) of our Gina
Carano combat spectacular, serving as debonair eye candy for our girl with the
golden right hook. While all are
situated firmly within their supporting roles, they’ve been smartly cast for
the glib, sophisticated ferocity of their presence. If they’d been used more, perhaps they could
have elevated the film further away from its simplistic plot devices. Instead, Soderbergh chooses to focus his
camera and energies on Carano. Depending
on your point of view, this is fortunate or unfortunate. There are ways in which the film suffers because
of its insistence on devoting so much time to Mallory Kane, and for fans of
action films Haywire may read as too
quietly designed and acted to truly be gripping. Yet, the grievances are also precisely what
make this film stand out. Carano and her
character offer girls a more realistic, bad-ass action hero than most and
Soderbergh has designed the film’s action sequences in a way that resists the
bombastic, abrasive over-editing of others in its genre to give us combat that
feels real. Everything in Haywire is possible. While the realm of the real isn’t always
where we have the most fun, sometimes it’s really quite refreshing.






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