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Contraband is the cinematic equivalent of watching someone lay expensive tile. You appreciate the effort, the end result looks pretty good, but the process of getting there is as dull as any tedious, slow step-by-step exercise. A Western remake of the well-received Icelandic thriller Reykjavík-Rotterdam, we get the standard former criminal struggling to go straight, the foolish family member whose mistake draws him back into 'the game,' and the last act 'twist' that turns a supposedly friendly face into a fiend. All the while, director Baltasar Kormákur's desaturated imagery leeches any life out of the narrative, turning what should be a tense two-hour ride into 109 minute slog.
Our reformed smuggler is Chris Farraday (Mark Wahlberg). Trying to make a go of it as an alarm system installer, he wants to stay clean for his loving wife (Kate Beckinsale) and his two little boys. All of that changes when his bumbling brother-in-law Andy (Caleb Landry Jones) gets in debt with diabolic drug dealer Tim Briggs (Giovanni Ribisi). Needing big money quick, Chris decides to make one final run to Panama to pick up some counterfeit cash. With the help of his lifelong pal Sebastian (Ben Foster), he gets on with the crew of a Southbound ship run by a hard-ass Captain (JK Simmons) on the lookout for trouble. Our hero hopes things will go smoothly. But as with most "last jobs," plans fall apart and preparations implode, leaving Chris and his colleagues to scramble as unseen forces conspire against them.
As valid an argument for something getting lost in the translation as any foreign film retrofit, Contraband is boring. Deadly dull. Minute after minute of mind-numbing tedium. Nothing can save us from the monotony -- not the performances (spot on, but to what end?), not the washed out New Orleans backdrop, not the limited (and lame) action sequences, not the dopey double cross which triggers the finale. In fact, the only interesting aspect of this otherwise made for January junk is how foreign filmmaker Kormákur views the United States. For him, it's all F-bombs and bad facial hair, smoldering cigarettes dangling from slightly drunken mouths as grit and grime fill every corner of the frame. Call it numb noir, or culturally naive, but the filmmaker is really striving for a kind of singular vision here. Unfortunately, he never achieves it.As for Wahlberg, he still appears to be chasing that elusive post-Departed respectability. All Fighter flash aside, he still hasn't found what he's really looking for, artistically. As one of several producers, he clearly guided this material toward his more serious side and yet nothing here elevates his already established persona. There's no risk, no real movement outside his well-established comfort zone. He's stern, coarse, and always more than capable. As a matter of fact, the lack of a legitimate threat to Chris is one of Contraband's biggest flaws. Without antagonism, there's no tension. It certainly doesn't come from the random collection of baddies he runs into, or the goofball authority of Simmons' silly skipper. It's all mechanical...and meaningless.
Perhaps, had Kormákur employed some manner of revisionist style on the material we'd be more interested. Instead, aside from a whacked out of his skull turn by Ribisi as an ex-con creep, nothing stands out. Even the supposed thrills are dialed down to the point where even some subpar shaky-cam nonsense would be better. Instead, it all limps along like a group of trained professionals going about their day-in, day-out drudgery. Without having seen the original film, it's hard to say if Contraband is respectful. One thing is for certain -- it's a perfect entry into January's always overflowing aesthetic landfill.
