Allan Ungar’s assassin turned subverted buddy-cop film, “London Calling,” takes a long time to get on its feet, and once it does, it still stumbles there. It’s a bit of a tropey mess, but the intent is clear: to have fun. And while the fun-having of the filmmaking itself translates well to the screen amidst a few genuine laughs, “London Calling” is mostly stale.
The film opens with London-based assassin Tommy Ward (a very Jason Statham-looking Josh Duhamel) at a neon-soaked club on a job. Everyone is wearing animal masks, girls are making out on the dance floor, and the bass is booming. It’s all very cliché. His target? A man wearing a brown jacket and a horse mask. His victim? A man wearing a black jacket and a donkey mask. This slip-up, due to a refusal to make an optometry appointment, results in Tommy having to go on the lam. It turns out he killed crime boss Freddy Darby’s (Aiden Gillen) wife’s cousin. Not exactly of close relation, and the degrees of separation here become an overtired running joke throughout the film.
On the run, Tommy winds up in sunny, traffic-riddled Los Angeles, working for new handler Benson (an extremely tan Rick Hoffman), a caustic type and begrudging father of nerdy, LARPing son Julian (Jeremy Ray Taylor). Determined to force his son out of being a “stupid loser” and into hyper-masculine manhood, Benson demands that Tommy take Julian as an apprentice on his newest assignment, a series of three increasingly daunting hits. Meanwhile, Freddy Darby has been tipped off to Tommy’s American locale and is on his way to exact revenge. With Tommy’s own estrangement from his son and Julian’s fraught relationship with his father motivating the central duo, “London Calling” is a buddy tale turned coming of age, a crime-comedy thriller, and a story of surrogate relationships.
This film is not impressive, nor is it particularly engrossing. It lacks the kineticism of hearty action and the thoughtfulness of true comedy. It’s plain. The overtly simple humor is delivered primarily via punchlines, which are predictable and sigh-worthy at best (and in the case of one particular sequence, riddled with r-word jokes, immature, and overall lame at worst). What does provide some genuine laughter is the physical comedy, mostly at the helm of Ray Taylor’s bumbling commitment to proving his dad wrong.
While the dynamic between Duhamel and Ray Taylor feels believably wholesome and at times funny, Ray Taylor’s sweet awkwardness and verve far outshine Duhamel’s clumsy confidence. But as far as immersion goes, their asides are pretty boring, often composed of Julian’s shocking intelligence and adeptness to adapt to crime life quite seamlessly, and Tommy’s befuddlement and vision problems. Because of the running joke of the latter, the action sequences are a lot of missed gunfire, followed by an improbable concoction of hand-to-hand combat and prop humor.
“London Calling” is so focused on following the schemes and relationship between Tommy and Julian that it forgets about the threat of Freddy Darby fairly quickly. Once he does show back up, it’s more of an “oh right, this guy” feeling rather than one of any entertaining dread or excitement. While the themes of the film remain relatively intact, regardless of how spoon-fed, the rest of its composition disintegrates, and “London Calling” is a letdown.
