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	<title>Andy at The Movies &#187; Jonathan Rhys Meyers</title>
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		<title>Movie Review (Dan&#8217;s Take): From Paris With Love</title>
		<link>http://www.andyatthemovies.com/from-paris-with-love-dans-take-b/</link>
		<comments>http://www.andyatthemovies.com/from-paris-with-love-dans-take-b/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Feb 2010 00:51:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[From Paris with Love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[John Travolta]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jonathan Rhys Meyers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Luc Besson]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pierre Morel]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Those French. They may look down their collective noses at fat Americans, but they sure do love the way we get s**t done. Luc Besson&#8211; cinema&#8217;s most prolific Frenchman&#8211; has unleashed another action drenched story template (ala Taken, The Transporter) and cozied up with his &#8220;Besson School of Filmmaking&#8221; graduate Pierre Morel (Taken and the upcoming Dune remake) to offer up the guiltily pleasurable From Paris With Love. Together, Besson and Morel massage French-American relations like it&#8217;s nobody&#8217;s business. If there was ever an homage to the American action stereotype, From Paris With Love is it; a story-lite action flick that knows exactly what it wants to be and clocks in with a lean and functionally breezy 95 minutes to deliver the goods. Morel&#8217;s crafted a movie that placates its American audience with backslapping proclamations like &#8220;We saved your frog leg eating asses in two World Wars!&#8221; and gun-loaded, badly behaved, star-spangled ass kicking, but alternately winks at its French viewers with a nod of &#8220;stupid cowboys&#8221;. It&#8217;s panderingly duplicitous&#8230; and it works. From Paris introduces us to James Reece (Irishman Jonathan Rhys Meyers&#8211; vocally straining himself to nail an American accent). Reece is smart (hello! the dude plays a mean game of chess and has a pencil mustache). Reece is romancing a hot French girlfriend who&#8217;s gaga over him. Reece is completely uninteresting. He&#8217;s also a diplomatic attache at the American embassy in Paris.  But Reece ain&#8217;t got no time for silly diplomatic flimflam&#8211; he also moonlights as an errand boy for a super-secret U.S. intelligence agency. Young, hungry and inexperienced, Reece pines for a shot at the sexy stuff: blowing holes in things under the guise of U.S.secret agent/special ops. Reece also believes in The Secret, as just by thinking about spy games and changing a few license plates, he gets a call up to the bigs. An anonymous handler offers him the secret agent promotion he&#8217;s been begging for&#8211; right in the middle of his very French girlfriend&#8217;s marriage proposal. All Reece needs to do is meet his new partner at the airport and tag along for the ride. Once the mission is accomplished, he&#8217;s in&#8211; no paperwork necessary. Reese high-tails it to the airport only to find his new partner, Charlie Wax (John Travolta), all juiced up on energy drinks, bravado and a laser-focused dedication to verbally abuse French Customs Agents with a potty-mouth gangsta performance on loan from The Taking of Pelham 123. Soon, the two are on their way to a day of busting cocaine syndicates and Pakistani terrorist cells. Reece quickly discovers, however, secret agent stuff is less James Bond and more John McClane. Wax is rowdy. He&#8217;s the kind of spec ops lone wolf that only exist in movies like this: chrome domed, goatee&#8217;d badasses who bare-handedly takes down a gaggle of gang members (at once!), snorts coke, talks jive, ravishes hookers and leaps through hails of machine gun fire without taking a scuff&#8211; all while delivering lead death, on target, to...]]></description>
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