There's a conspiracy in the desert, and you're invited!
Two burnt out border patrol agents looking for a way out of their dead-end job stumble upon a buried Jeep with a long-rotted corpse, a rifle, and a chest with $800,000 sitting inside dating back 20 years. Do they take the money and run, or do they stick around and try to unravel the mystery? Well having now seen Flashpoint, I think they should've booked it the minute they found the fuckin' money, but of course that wouldn't make for a very interesting story now would it. When Federal Agent Clarence J. Boddicker and his motley crew of G-Men rock up to "investigate" the situation — and by investigate I of course mean sow the seeds of discord — the whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket.
There's such a masterful control of tension throughout Flashpoint — with an atmosphere so thick and palpable — that I was honestly kinda stunned watching. Some may call it drawn-out, I call it an effective slow-burn that takes its time setting up the pins, letting the characters' dynamic ruminate just enough with the viewers so that when those pins get knocked over it's all the more potent. Some questionable bits of writing aside, it all just works.
For many, the ending — as heavily foreshadowed as it may be — may come off as bizarre, leftfield, and a little inane, but for me the detour down New Hollywood Political Paranoia Lane is just about the best part, second only to the hazy and twangy Tangerine Dream score. It may be a CinemaSin™ to have a character outright explain the mystery to the audience, but when it's Rip Torn really ramping up the Texan accent and laying it on REAL thick, I think I can overlook the technical transgression against storytelling that the film is making.
Unexpectedly great desert noir thriller — for fans of No Country for Old Men, Red Rock West and JFK ;)
There's a conspiracy in the desert, and you're invited!
Two burnt out border patrol agents looking for a way out of their dead-end job stumble upon a buried Jeep with a long-rotted corpse, a rifle, and a chest with $800,000 sitting inside dating back 20 years. Do they take the money and run, or do they stick around and try to unravel the mystery? Well having now seen Flashpoint, I think they should've booked it the minute they found the fuckin' money, but of course that wouldn't make for a very interesting story now would it. When Federal Agent Clarence J. Boddicker and his motley crew of G-Men rock up to "investigate" the situation — and by investigate I of course mean sow the seeds of discord — the whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket.
There's such a masterful control of tension throughout Flashpoint — with an atmosphere so thick and palpable — that I was honestly kinda stunned watching. Some may call it drawn-out, I call it an effective slow-burn that takes its time setting up the pins, letting the characters' dynamic ruminate just enough with the viewers so that when those pins get knocked over it's all the more potent. Some questionable bits of writing aside, it all just works.
For many, the ending — as heavily foreshadowed as it may be — may come off as bizarre, leftfield, and a little inane, but for me the detour down New Hollywood Political Paranoia Lane is just about the best part, second only to the hazy and twangy Tangerine Dream score. It may be a CinemaSin™ to have a character outright explain the mystery to the audience, but when it's Rip Torn really ramping up the Texan accent and laying it on REAL thick, I think I can overlook the technical transgression against storytelling that the film is making.
Unexpectedly great desert noir thriller — for fans of No Country for Old Men, Red Rock West and JFK ;)
