[Rating: Solid Rock Fist Up]
In Theaters Friday, March 25
A textbook example of a rote, somewhat reheated rom com elevated beyond its station by an inventive script and a handful of MVP performances, The Lost City is better than it has any right to be. Tonally balanced, well-paced, expertly cast, and with a keen understanding of its place within the broader genre, the film deploys its weapons to maximum effect throughout its efficient 112-minute runtime. And while this one isn’t reinventing the wheel (or even the jungle-action-comedy sub-genre), it glides by on charm alone: like a kid at a family reunion telling 50-year-old Catskills jokes with 21st century punchlines.
The Lost City opens with world-famous romance novelist Loretta Sage (Sandra Bullock) struggling with the last chapter of her latest book. Loretta has been in an emotional and creative rut ever since the passing of her archaeologist husband, so when her newest series installment about a hidden city and treasure meets with a restrained response, she craters. Frantic for some good press during the upcoming book tour, Loretta’s agent, Beth (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), invites along the book series’ cover model, Alan Caprison (Channing Tatum), whose thick-headedness is matched only by his popularity with Loretta’s fan-base.
It’s on this publicity tour that eccentric billionaire Abigail Fairfax (Daniel Radcliffe) kidnaps Loretta so that she can lead him to a rumored treasure mentioned in her latest book. Hoping to prove himself as more than just a pretty face, Alan works with Beth to hire former Navy SEAL and extraction expert, Jack Trainer (Brad Pitt), to rescue Loretta from the jungle island where she’s being held. A dim-witted model, to be sure, Alan has a big heart and an even bigger desire to break free of his pretty boy reputation, eventually convincing Jack to bring him along on the rescue op. As one might expect, things go sideways, leading to Alan and Loretta teaming up to escape not just Fairfax and his goons, but the impending eruption of the island’s volcano.
Directors Aaron and Adam Nee (who also co-wrote the screenplay) fashion the film like the best kind of highway billboard: big, eye-catching, amusing, familiar, and gone before its ostentatious presentation can wear on any passersby. The quickest, easiest comp would be to compare The Lost City to Romancing the Stone, or even The African Queen, yet the Nee brothers and their script tweak enough of the formula to make this one its own beast. The basic premise is similar to those classics, what with a mismatched pair of opposites learning to come together in the bush despite their initial dislike of each other. Yet it is this film’s understanding of those formulas and its place within the genre that elevates it beyond what could have just been a paint-by-numbers entry within the broader cannon.
This all starts with Tatum, who has the physical presence of a Michael Douglas or Humphrey Bogart, yet eschews the “Tough” role, here. Plagued by his stupidity, water-induced eczema, and total lack of martial abilities, Alan spends as much time being saved as doing the saving, and Tatum’s considerable comedic chops make a meal out of this dynamic inversion. And while this leaves Bullock in a sometimes ill-fitting “Straight Man” role (didn’t we learn anything from Ocean’s 8?), the chemistry and comedic interplay between the pair leads to a genuine, delightful rhythm by the third act.
Still, if the pair had to carry the weight of the story’s treasure intrigue, budding romance, jungle chases, and rescue B-plot all by themselves it wouldn’t work as well as it does, and it’s a credit to the deep bench of quality supporting role players that they never have to. Leading this side-pack is Brad Pitt, whose diamond-sharp bad-assery tickles the audience’s expectations, reminding us that the Nee brothers (and even the characters to a certain extent) know exactly what kind of movie this is. Radcliffe also seems to be having an especially good time with these broad tropes, relishing every opportunity to play up Fairfax’s most exaggerated Bond-villain tendencies.
Much like 2015’s Spy, whose knowing embrace of its genre formula allowed it to subvert and reimagine the classic text it celebrates, The Lost City teases the audience with the familiar only to shake it all up for chuckles. By doing so it allows the film to have its cake and eat it, too (which, as Loretta hilariously explains to Alan, is the only thing anyone has ever done with cake).
Granted, it takes The Lost City a little too long to get out of its second act, and some of the side bits work better than others. Patti Harrison swoops in for just a handful of scenes and straight-up dusts everyone while Randolph’s work on the rescue subplot mostly fizzles, yet the overall batting average of the picture remains high (though the less said about the film’s attempts at addressing indigenous politics the better). Full of laughs from beginning to end and supported by a top-notch cast who all understand the assignment, one could do worse than spending a couple hours getting lost with Channing and Sandy.
“Obvious Child” is the debut novel of Warren Cantrell, a film and music critic based out of Seattle, Washington. Mr. Cantrell has covered the Sundance and Seattle International Film Festivals, and provides regular dispatches for Scene-Stealers and The Playlist. Warren holds a B.A. and M.A. in History, and his hobbies include bourbon drinking, novel writing, and full-contact kickboxing.
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