With a tough-guy title that capably sells its gung-ho action, Land of Bad is the most macho movie of the new year. The story of a special forces mission that goes sideways, thus compelling those on the ground and at a command center to work together to avert catastrophe, the film is a rah-rah adventure with nothing on its mind other than celebrating heroism, camaraderie, loyalty, and the kick-ass explosions that come from firing drone missiles into enemy strongholds. Headlined by a serviceable Liam Hemsworth and a fantastic Russell Crowe in all his hammy scene-stealing glory, it’s the bro-iest bro-fest that ever bro’d—and I say that with far more affection than condescension.
In Land of Bad (Feb. 16, in theaters), Hemsworth is Kinney, a drone pilot first seen in a mess hall debating whether to eat a box of Frosted Flakes or Fruit Loops. Kinney is at this outpost because an upset stomach has caused him to miss his flight back home, and since he’s the sole person around, he’s ordered by Captain Sugar (Milo Ventimiglia) to join him and his Delta Force mates Abel (Luke Hemsworth) and Bishop (Ricky Whittle) on an operation to rescue a kidnapped asset in the jungles of some unnamed Southern Asian country in the Sulu Sea. Introductory text cards indicate that this region is home to “violent extremist groups” and that “we are in a war…we just don’t know it.” Neither does Kinney, really, who’s totally green and unprepared for his impromptu assignment, which begins with a HALO (high-altitude low-opening) parachute jump for which he’s not trained, and then involves providing drone support for his veteran comrades.
Written by director William Eubank (Underwater) and David Frigerio, Land of Bad is about as generic as they come, replete with a purposely vague setting and barely defined bad guys, although there’s no mistaking the “Allahu Akbar” screamed by Saeed Hashimi (Robert Rabiah), the leader of Abu Sayyaf (i.e. East Asian Islamic State) terrorists, right before he decapitates a woman in front of her husband. The straightforward proceedings’ chief focus is Kinney as well as Reaper (Crowe), who mans the drone controls at a Las Vegas base beside his colleague Nia (Chika Ikogwe).
Reaper is mad that his beloved Ohio State Buckeyes have just lost in the NCAA March Madness tournament, and he’s stressed about his wife’s impending pregnancy. Those two issues weigh heavily upon him at the start of the film, given that he needs his colonel (Daniel MacPherson) and younger subordinates to answer the phone if his spouse calls while he’s helping Kinney and company complete their task—a request that’s repeatedly ignored and/or dismissed, thereby raising what appears to be Reaper’s already sky-high blood pressure.
Much of Land of Bad has Crowe sitting and chatting via headset with Kinney, with whom he bonds over the fact that they’re both from Ohio. When not badmouthing his superiors or the CIA (“Alphabet soup motherfuckers. You can’t trust a word they say”), Crowe gets to state things like, “I am your eyes in the sky and the bringer of doom,” and to explain that he never made it as a pilot because of his “not normal” responses to authority, meaning “that goat got fucked.” Reaper is basically a ball of anger who only has love for Nia and, eventually, for Kinney, what with the young guy soon demonstrating his “Tier 1” bona fides in the line of fire. Crowe embodies his character with such cocky, furious gusto that it’s impossible not to be entertained by his showmanship, which is all the more impressive for being largely performed from a chair—and not Reaper’s own, much to his middle finger-flipping annoyance.
Liam Hemsworth and Luke Hemsworth.
The AvenueNo sooner has Bishop lectured Kinney about how “war is barbaric” than things go to hell and Kinney winds up on his own, forced to trek to an evacuation point while scores of anonymous gunmen descend upon him in the jungle. There’s nothing particularly inventive about his circumstances but Eubank stages his mayhem suspensefully and Hemsworth does a fine job straddling the line between in-over-his-head terror and resolute determination, the latter of which slowly takes precedence as Kinney discovers that his survival depends on a combination of perseverance, brutality and luck. Those all factor into his harrowing subsequent nightmare, as an initial escape falls apart and, ultimately, he’s compelled to return to his original target location to extricate various men from the clutches of a jihadist who blathers on about “imperialists” and makes a crack about Guantanamo Bay but primarily registers as a stock embodiment of evil.
Land of Bad cares less about politics than about blowing up stuff in super-slow-motion and having special forces heroes speak in military jargon (“Winchester,” “RTB”) and then valiantly soldier onward even after suffering grievous wounds. There’s no sensitivity here; Reaper makes wisecracks about his wife’s veganism (The way you know someone’s a vegan? “They will tell you”) and, upon hearing Kinney’s plan for extraction, announces, “We’re going to light that shit up and blow it to fuck.” The film trades in aggro bluster and bombast that’s so pure, undiluted, and unsubtle that it verges on—and sometimes tips over into—comedy. Nonetheless, beneath its puffed chest lurks earnest affection for the men and women who risk their lives for their country and, more importantly, for each other, and that goes some way toward helping it earn its climactic feel-good pathos.
Crowe, however, is the main attraction, and Land of Bad does right by him, especially during a climax that finally lets him get off his ass to demonstrate that, when it’s do-or-die time, he can be counted on to move. Seeing Crowe race through a grocery store, traffic and his command center to save the day is worth the price of admission alone, and yet Eubank manages to one-up that sight, both via Reaper’s destruction of military property and, better still, a sweet closing dance number which confirms that, no matter where he is or what position he’s assumed, the Oscar-winner remains a star—and also, considering the evidence on display here, the king of the bros.
