xXx: Return of Xander Cage
The last forty minutes of the movie do come together in a pretty diverting way.
See enough of its movies and a nation's cinema can tell you something about the nation involved. It may be right, it may be wrong, but there it is. I now assume, for example, that everyone in Australia is a little strange, and half of them are bizarre eccentrics. The French, they are worried all the time. Americans live trapped inside the cliches of genre fiction, and so do the Canadians, only they are nicer unless they are in David Cronenberg films.
And the Irish are sweet, cheerful folk who live in each other's pockets, settle things by communitywide debate, gang up men against women and visit home briefly between pubs. They are also blessed with great verbal alacrity, and there would be a great many more of them if the women were not so opinionated and the men so baffled by women with opinions.
This picture has nothing to do with the Irish I have met during half a dozen visits to the Emerald Isle, who are likely to be successful professionals benefitting from a booming economy and a standard of living higher than England's. But the Irish have no one but themselves to blame for their screen image, except in the case of "The Closer You Get," which was produced by an Italian.
Uberto Pasolini earlier made "The Full Monty," which made millions of dollars with its heartfelt and bawdy comedy about six unemployed Englishmen who became strippers. Now he has moved to the west of Ireland, to County Donegal, upon whose sainted strands late one night I once kissed a publican's red-haired daughter.