The Nice Guys

In a summer movie season that’s filled with three comic book ensembles (two from Marvel and one from DC), sequels (some that aren’t even warranted), and despised before people even see them reboots (it involves ghosts and busting), The Nice Guys is a breath of fresh smog filled air.  Sure, there are other non-franchise offerings, but most of those are of a dour subject matter, and summer is the time for fun.  Kids will have Finding Dory, the masses will have the blockbusters, and adults now have The Nice Guys.

As always, I have a soft spot for films that endlessly try to be entertaining, even if they don’t succeed. The Nice Guys rarely spent two minutes away from keeping a stupid grin on my face, and that grin turned into laughing out loud every single time.  I’m a reserved laugher, especially in a theater; I laughed loud and hard throughout most of this film. Furthermore, I was having a great time at the movies.  Even to question, once it was over, why it’s not like this every time out.

Perhaps the answer is the unique voice of Shane Black, the film’s writer (along with Anthony Bagarozzi) and director. He’s given us the screenplays to Lethal Weapon 1 & 2, Monster Squad, and The Last Boy Scout; he’s also the director of the great Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang.  His work, though not a large quantity, has such a bizarre combination of annoyance and acceptance to it.  His characters are usually not in ideal situations, or even in an ideal life, but they reluctantly go through it kicking and screaming.

The Nice Guys tells a story set in Los Angeles during the 1970s, centering on a pair of detectives for hire (Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling) who stumble into a sprawling conspiracy while investigating the alleged suicide of a once-prominent female porn star, who is somehow connected to a missing daughter of the head of the L.A. department of justice (Kim Basinger).  How the mystery unfolds calls back to a classic L.A. Noir story, except instead of two dashing straight-arrow cops, we get two guys that are barely capable enough to get up in the morning.

As in Lethal Weapon and Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang the film’s strength is the thunderous  chemistry of it’s two leads.  Crowe plays Jackson Healy, a muscle for hire that’s very surly about it.  He’s not a bad guy, but when a frightened girl asks him to stop the guys stalking her, he cares more about how short she is on the payment than anything.  Gosling as Holland March is a complete and utter disaster in the best way possible.  The only thing keeping him from being a full fledged con-man is his fourteen year old daughter Holly (Angourie Rice).  He dose horribly with violence and the sight of blood, but he’s better at putting the pieces together than Healy. His daughter may be better than both.

Black’s dialogue cracks like a whip, but in the hands of Crowe and Gosling, it’s explosive.  The two of them growl, shriek, and insult their way through every scene in ways that made me want to watch them do it forever. Crowe, on his good days, is a charismatic chameleon, while Gosling continues to value roles that don’t adhere to his looks; both find magic here.  Rice adds an element of sweetness to the film that never feels forced, providing for some of the film’s best moments.

Black handles the 70’s setting without calling attention to it.  The skies are filled with a brown tint that casts an appropriate seedy shadow over everything.  But it all takes a back seat to the wonderful performances and sheer delight provided by Crowe, Gosling, and all involved.  There may be better films at the end of the year, but it’ll be difficult to find any that makes me as happy as this one did.

Grade: A