No Escape

When you picture Owen Wilson, who comes to mind? Is it the laid-back charmer from Wedding Crashers? The easy-going Cowboy from Night at the Museum? Or perhaps the free spirit hippie spouting New Age guff in Zoolander?

With his puppyish charm and aw, shucks affability, Wilson has spent three decades winning the affection of audiences by playing a succession of romantic dreamers and lovable underdogs. In the majority of his movies, you essentially meet the same character over and again: a louche, laidback schmoozer – all floppy fringe and ditzy grin – whose primary acting skill seems to be emitting a perfectly enunciated ‘wowww’ in a breathy, Dallas drawl.

All of which makes him just about the last Hollywood actor you might expect to find in No Escape (2015), a brutal – and authentically grisly – survive-the-night action thriller. And yet there he is, looking worried and faintly constipated on the poster. Seeing him in the movie’s publicity materials is a legitimately bizarro experience – something akin to if you learned that Christmas simper-fest The Holiday actually featured Ja Rule and Steven Seagal.

The plot

The film opens sunnily, with Wilson relocating with his wife and their two young daughters to an unnamed Southeast Asian country to take up a new job. 

But what’s that line about best laid plans? The faux-Wilsons barely have time to unpack their bags before a violent coup erupts, literally on their doorstep. Cue pitched battles between local rebels and the rozzers, rampant bloodshed and (eek!) public executions on the streets. Even worse, the rebels quickly overthrow the government and start targeting the foreigners they blame for all the country's political and economic problems.

Since Wilson’s pallid complexion and shaggy blonde mop hardly scream authentic Southeast Asian, he and his family need to quickly hide and hatch an escape plan. As the city descends into total bloody anarchy, Wilson cack-handedly tries to evade armed rebels and navigate the dangerous streets – terrified family in tow – in a bid to escape the country.

It’s hard to imagine a film farther removed from Wilson’s usual comfort zone of tweedy Wes Anderson movies and shaggy rom coms. (Though admittedly, it might have been entertaining to see one of this movie’s AK-47-wielding rebels let loose on The Royal Tenenbaums.)

Hard men on hiatus

Given the nature of No Escape, it seems almost implausible that the lead role didn’t go to some grizzled, square-jawed lunk who would happily spray bullets at the machete-wielding insurgents. And, given half a chance, stab them in the head with an unnecessarily large knife. 

Did nobody think to call Gerard Butler or Jason Statham? Or Frank Grillo, if the film didn’t have a budget. And what about the king of assassin-cinema, Liam Neeson? One can only imagine he punched his agent hard in the throat after seeing such a juicily violent caper go to a flailing blonde moppet, thus escaping his own particular set of acting skills.

A relatable wuss

And yet, dear reader, it turns out that casting directors do occasionally know what they’re doing. Far from bringing the movie down, Wilson quickly proves an inspired casting choice precisely because of his complete lack of action hero pedigree. 

Whenever Butler or Statham are on screen, you only ever wonder where the knife’s going to go or which bone will be cracked next: their work doesn’t exactly scream emotional engagement. But No Escape goes to some pains to underscore that Wilson really is scared and cranky and mostly plain confused, and to demonstrate that he knows naff all about weapons. He’s just a schlubby husband and dad who had the rotten luck to move his family to an exotic country that suddenly turned into a war zone.

As it turns out, this ‘regular dad’ energy – and his apparent weaknesses – become the film’s great strength. Seen through Wilson’s eyes, every terrifying situation feels genuinely terrifying. Watching him grow increasingly exhausted, frightened and out of his depth, most viewers will realise that this is exactly how they would react in the same situation.

You Only Sing Twice…

While Wilson’s portrayal of an ordinary hero is convincing, it does create a sticky problem. Clearly, this panicky doofus making repeated terrible decisions wouldn’t last five minutes in such a deadly situation.

The movie’s ingenious answer? Bring in Pierce Brosnan to riff on his James Bond persona as a helpful, ex-pat. Initially presented as a karaoke-loving drunk on the prowl for cheap beer and cheaper women, Brosnan’s character, Hammond, turns out to be an undercover MI6 agent who helps Wilson a couple of times when things get sticky.

Old Brozzer is clearly having a great time playing a seedier version of his 007 self and lends the movie a welcome dose of chaotic energy. Unfortunately, he also unfurls his deadliest-ever weapon on the unsuspecting viewing audience – that same singing voice that he used  to torture a million ear drums in Mamma Mia. Ye gods. He sounds like a cat being stroked backwards. Nil pois.

Exploding helicopter action

When rioters rampage through Wilson’s hotel early during the action, everyone flees to the roof in the hope of holding out until help arrives. The sudden appearance of a presumed rescue helicopter has the crowd whooping and waving –  until the  fuselage door slides back to reveal a rebel, wielding a machine-gun. Oh, dear.

As the gunner starts blitzing bullets into the screaming crowd of guests, it looks like we’re in for a straightforward villainous turkey shoot. But wait: the helicopter pilot – presumably caught up with bloodlust – idiotically flies into some cables strung across the hotel’s roof. Ensnared, the chopper is dragged into a metal structure before crashing onto the roof and exploding in a thoroughly avoidable fireball.

Exploding helicopter verdict

This won’t be appearing in any of our ‘best of’ lists. The explosion itself is brief and unsatisfying. The circumstances of the crash are witless and anodyne.  As Exploding Helicopter has repeatedly pointed out, movie chopper pilots too often demonstrate a befuddling inability to avoid flying into perfectly observable threats. Who’s flying these things: Mr Magoo?

Still, the crashed copter does prove useful in one way: acting as a barrier to prevent the rebels (who’ve now broken through onto the roof) from getting at Wilson and his family while they make their escape. Given that chopper fireballs generally serve mainly as a visual garnish, it’s refreshing to see this particular wreckage woven into the fabric of the plot.

Interesting fact

The film was originally meant to be called The Coup, until producers realised that most thicko Americans wouldn’t know what ‘coup’ meant. However, following January 6, it’s likely that public awareness of the term has improved considerably. At last, something to thank The Donald for.