A comedy about a veteran NYPD cop whose rare baseball card is stolen. Since it's his only hope to pay for his daughter's upcoming wedding, he recruits his partner to track down the thief, a memorabilia-obsessed gangster.
Special Agent Derrick Vann is a man out to get the man who killed his partner but a case of mistaken identity leads him to Andy Fidler, a salesman with too many questions and a knack of getting in Vanns way.
Samuel L. Jackson,
After a clumsy operation trying to capture a drug dealer, the N.Y.P.D Detectives Jimmy Monroe and Paul Hodges are suspended for one month by their Captain Romans. Jimmy decides to sell his rare baseball card to pay for his daughter's expensive wedding while his jealous partner believes that his wife is cheating on him with their next-door neighbor. When Jimmy sells his card to a memorabilia store, the place is burgled by two small-time thieves and the detective loses his card. They track down the thieves. Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
When Paul interrogates Raul, Raul breathes on the mirror-glass, so it becomes hazy. Some people think that Jimmy draws a figure in the haze on the other side of the glass, though his side must be dry, but before he starts to draw, he is seen breathing himself on his side of the mirror-glass. See more »
You know what today represents? Nine Jim. Nine years me and you been together. *Nine* we been main shit stains. I know some dogs that don't even live to be nine. You're lucky if you get seven years out of a Great Dane. But me and you been puttin' it together for nine...
[whips out a card]
Happy anniversary Jim.
I don't celebrate anniversaries.
Jim, open it up. I wanna see the expression on your face.
You wanna see the expression on my face? The expression you're gonna see on my face...
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This is supposed to be a comedy, allegedly. I only know that because it's advertised as a comedy, though - you certainly wouldn't know because of any funny moments in the film. It's a buddy cop movie, where Bruce Willis looks as though he's overdosed on Valium and Tracy Morgan makes up for that by doing what I can only describe as a minstrel show routine.
I don't want to get on my high horse about what's supposed to be a light-hearted action cop movie, but then again I didn't want to get angry after a light-hearted action cop movie, either. Angry about Morgan's performance, a gibbering, cavorting, screeching act that wouldn't have been out of place in the days of Stepin Fetchit. Angry about the fact that no one involved seemed to give a toss - in fact they might as well have spent the whole movie just standing there, holding up two middle fingers at the audience.
But I'm angry most of all at Kevin Smith, the director of this piece of utter garbage. He used to be talented. He used to make great movies like Clerks, Dogma, even Mallrats. Yeah, that's right, I'm the guy who liked Mallrats. These days he churns out lazy rubbish and then goes on Twitter and whines at anyone who dares to criticise it. He's thrown his talent away, and he's so wrapped up in the bubble of his own self-importance that he doesn't seem to realise it. By making a film like this, and clearly not caring at all about how it turned out, he's shown his complete contempt for movie-goers, fans and the smoking wreckage of his own career. Well done, Kevin. Well done.
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