06/26/06 Running Scared

Running Scared (2006), directed by Wayne Kramer

watched solo; DVD rental (Netflix) @ home

I'm really digging relative newcomer to the directing circuit, Wayne Kramer. No, this isn't legendary protpunk group MC5's famed guitarist and current kick-out-the-jams solo artist...although that would be cool too. However, this Wayne Kramer is establishing himself with a flare for the same in-your-face, raucous & raw stylings...here on film stock. His first flick, "The Cooler," was a lower-key casino/gangster drama with Alec Baldwin providing a bulk of the violent tendencies. Here in his second big-time effort, Paul Walker plays the lead (Joey Gazelle), a lower-tier mob flunkie who has one hell of a night...literally and very violently. Joey begins the evening on the side of his Mafioso boyhood buddies, in a heavy shootout with drug dealers and dirty cops. Told to dispose of a gun, the murder weapon of one of these dirty cops, he stupidly brings the snub-nose home to hide it in his basement...where who happens to see it there, but his young teenage son & his next door friend. The young boy next door (Oleg) steals the gun, and uses it against his abusive step-father, who just so happens to be the nephew of a psychotic Russian mob boss...who also does business with Joey's crew. With me so far? Oh, and the one surviving cop from the shootout (Chazz Palminteri) is hot on the case to find Joey and the murder weapon, as is Joey's mob boss & his cronies...who want nothing more than that gun to disappear from existence. The problem remains that Joey cannot find the gun or the kid who stole it, so he sets out on a wild ride through the night to find it & set things straight...including the attempts to keep his family safe and get out of the whole mobster scene altogether. The gun becomes another character in the story, as it changes hands left & right, latching onto bits of story lines as it goes. The gun leads into all the back alleys of the seedy underworld that is freaks, pimps and pushers...and thug Russian hockey players who shoot pucks at your face in the blacklight. With me still? Well, it's difficult at times to keep up with the pace, but it's a violent thrill ride. As I believe either Wayne Kramer might say, "kick out the jams m.f."

4 out of 5 stars