I'm not sure a movie title could be any less appropriate than Basic; it makes less sense than any explanation the cast could possibly offer for appearing in this ridiculous procedural thriller. For the actors, at least, there is what Balzac called the purest of motives: money. But because no one will be paid to see this film, or in this case, paid enough to see it, questions over its existence will continue to plague us.
Someone decided to put Rashomon in a Cuisinart along with A Few Good Men, The Usual Suspects and A Soldier's Story, and hit the pulverize button while forgetting to replace the top. The outcome is a spewing mess spinning at 300rpm.
In Panama, six Army Rangers go on a training exercise in the worst movie storm since the tornado in The Wizard of Oz, a film that seems like a pinnacle of real-world logic by comparison. They are led into the storm by their volatile, violently demanding and, of course, violently detested African-American troop leader, Sergeant West (Samuel Jackson).
PHOTO COURTESY OF FOX
An investigation begins after only two men return alive. From the helicopter coming to pick up the squad, the base commander, Colonel Styles (Tim Daly), can see the men firing at one another. One survivor, Dunbar (Brian Van Holt), refuses to speak to anyone but a fellow Ranger. He remains silent while being questioned by the investigating officer, Lieutenant Osborne (Connie Nielsen). And because Styles wants the investigation concluded before Dunbar has to be shipped off to Washington, he brings in a ringer.
Basic gives John Travolta the opportunity to do what he does best: make an entrance, which makes sense because he has had more of them than anyone since Loretta Young. He plays the bad-apple DEA agent Hardy, who swaggers into camera range singing to himself, and sounding remarkably like Tony Bennett, while swilling a long-neck beer with a towel around his new Pilates-assisted fabulousity. (This movie could be subtitled How Johnny Got His Six-Pack. The only restraint he shows in the role is not dropping to the floor to whip through a set of sit-ups.
Hardy is under investigation on suspicion of accepting a bribe. But he goes back a long way with Styles and, more important -- and improbable -- he also trained under West, whom he also hated. Hardy doesn't get to say, "I'm all you've got, man!" but he might as well. Styles brings Hardy in to interrogate Dunbar and to find out what went wrong.
PHOTO COURTESY OF FOX
At this point you might be tempted to say, "Huh?" Or, if you're in the theater, to leave. But wait -- there's less. The rogue Hardy is one of those inventive investigators who throw out the rule book. (Hardy's arbitrary behavior brings to mind Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.) When Hardy goes into the box -- the room where Dunbar is being kept -- the director John McTiernan develops some tension. If this picture works at all, it is only in certain scenes.
Travolta's cool-for-cats bravado is served up beautifully, and for a few moments it seems that Basic is going somewhere as he bullies and sweet-talks Dunbar simultaneously. But soon it is clear that Basic is adrift.
Basic, takes place in flashbacks. It is revealed that there may have been a drug-smuggling ring mashed into the hatred that everyone had for West, especially the young African-American Ranger Pike (Taye Diggs). West brutalizes him for sport, and uses the race they share as a strap to demean Pike.
PHOTO COURTESY OF FOX
Any story with an unreliable narrator has to be about finding a greater truth or the depth of illusion. Actually, Basic has several of these truths because Hardy also interrogates the other survivor, Kendall (Giovanni Ribisi). Ribisi's performance spells out the dangers of trying to imitate David Thewlis and Peter Lorre. And because Kendall's story is a radical departure from Dunbar's -- and none of the other soldiers is alive to dispute their stories -- Hardy has few places to turn.
Basic is so desperate to get to its nonsensical ending that it sinks to having a dying man write a clue with his own blood. And a clue that has to be misread initially. Usually mysteries rely on leaving clues for the viewers to pick up, so that their attention to the story and the unfolding details are rewarded. But Basic keeps inventing plot turns. It is as if the picture is working the same way that Hardy does, trying to get us so confused and frustrated that we give up.
Unfortunately, we do, sighing in resignation and waiting for the ending, which ties things up in the most perfunctory way possible, like a high school version of Mission Impossible.
Probably the reason most people will be interested in Basic is for a reteaming of Travolta and Jackson for the first time since Pulp Fiction. They get only one good moment together, and this picture could have the effect of negating the heat that Pulp Fiction put under them. Travolta may be the only star in movies making choices as bad as Cuba Gooding Jr., and each of the stupendous flops they turn up in is heartbreaking because both actors have such powerful audience rapport, as does Jackson, which makes Basic even more of a disappointment.
Travolta looks better than he has in years in his tight black T-shirt (despite his Mr. Spock haircut), and he turns smoking cigarettes into performance art. (You may concentrate on this because it's all he has going for him.) He doesn't get anything going with Nielsen because their scenes are too on-the-nose, and her indeterminate accent doesn't help.
One glamor shot, in which Travolta leans over to speak with Nielsen in her car as an oscillating glow backlights the rain, offers, and promises, more than the rest of the picture. All the rain in Basic is an elemental problem, though; the constant tapping of the rain has a lulling effect. It is almost saying, "Go to sleep, soon this will all be over."
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Peter Brighton was amazed when he found the giant jackfruit. He had been watching it grow on his farm in far north Queensland, and when it came time to pick it from the tree, it was so heavy it needed two people to do the job. “I was surprised when we cut it off and felt how heavy it was,” he says. “I grabbed it and my wife cut it — couldn’t do it by myself, it took two of us.” Weighing in at 45 kilograms, it is the heaviest jackfruit that Brighton has ever grown on his tropical fruit farm, located