Main cast: Martin Lawrence (Miles Logan), Luke Wilson (Detective Carlson), Dave Chappelle (Tulley), Peter Greene (Deacon), Nicole Ari Parker (Melissa Green), William Forsythe (Detective Hardcastle), and Graham Beckel (Chief Rizzo)
Director: Les Mayfield
If there is a reason to watch Blue Streak, it’s Martin Lawrence’s infectious enthusiasm. The man can surely camps it up and takes me along with his insane clowning too. Now, if only he can get a decent star vehicle that can really allow him to show what he is capable of.
This one is the usual “white men can’t jump or dance” movie, with the usual sassy black hero and clueless white man pairing, this time between Mr Lawrence and Luke Wilson. Mr Lawrence plays Logan, a jewel thief whose attempts to steal a diamond was foiled by a betrayal by his comrade. He hid the diamond in a vent of a construction site before the cops hauled his ass to jail. Two years later, Logan is released from jail. He dances, sasses his prison wardens, and boos at the incoming convicts, all in good fun mischief that charms me utterly. Things go downhill for Logan when he soon finds out that his girlfriend is not exactly waiting for him with open arms and worse, the construction site is now the LAPD’s 37th Precinct Headquarter!
No problem. Logan gets a fake ID and some equally bogus credentials. Now he is a newly transferred detective! He will walk in, retrieve the diamond, and vamoose in a few hours before the cops know what hit them. Only that he is mistaken for an FBI/Secret Service undercover sent to head the robbery division. The robber now find himself heading the department to bust his own buddies. Fun, isn’t it?
With Logan’s insider knowledge, he soon unwittingly becomes the MVP of the 37th Precinct, amazing his newbie partner Carlson, and getting himself involved in a drug heist before he knows what hit him. And that darned diamond is always so close yet too far away.
Unfortunately, whatever fun this movie can deliver is ruined by lazy plotting and unfunny jokes. The secondary characters are wasted in token one-note roles (the bungling Chief, the wisecracking but cowardly ex-partner in crime, the singularly nasty betrayer). Luke Wilson, permanently bland in whatever movie he’s in, is as lively as three-week old dead fish left in the sun. What’s left is Martin Lawrence’s amusing physical and verbal comedy. He does a great job, but without anything else substantial to keep the story going, he’s just wasting his time.
