“The Wrecker” contains many action thriller clichés in its opening minutes, including Harvey Keitel shouting “You don’t mess with a man’s family!” to a bloody guy tied to a chair in a warehouse – you might worry if there will be any left to fill the remaining 90. Have no fear. The latter from actor-stuntman turned prolific B-movie director Art Camacho “features” star Niko Foster, although the only really new element here for either party is that it represents a relatively rare theatrical release (rather than direct-to-home video). Seismic releases “The Wrecker” in U.S. theaters this Friday, while Quiver Distribution will launch in domestic formats at an unspecified later date.
A seasoned producer himself with several on-screen credits, Foster possesses the bulging biceps, deep voice and three-day stubble required for a macho action figure hero, amid other 1980s/90s-style genre tropes. But the screenplay he wrote with Sophia Louisa and James Dean Simington is so brazenly derivative of already cartoonish precedents (like “Road House” and “Stone Cold”) that it might as well have been put together by AI – or even intended as self-satire, although, sadly, that doesn’t seem to be the case.
Also starring A-list actors Mena Suvari, Tyrese Gibson and Danny Trejo in thankless roles, this story of mob-related mischief and solo Vegas revenge is clever but completely ridiculous. However, it’s quick and colorful enough that those craving a fried shank sandwich with extra cheese can get in on the fun.
After an incredibly hokey prologue that robs Det. Boswell (Gibson) from his partner at the hands of the ruthless “Dante the Untouchable” (Keitel), the film introduces protagonist Tony Minetti (Foster). He’s a former Marine who was dishonorably discharged. He now runs an auto repair shop while raising his daughters Sarah (Rebekah Samuel) and Sunshine (London Dee Falcon), whose mother has died. One day, in the garage, his bad-boy little brother Bobby (Chad Michael Collins), high as a kite, driving a canary yellow Ferrari that he surely did not acquire through legal means. Unwisely agreeing to go for a ride, Tony discovers that they are soon being followed by a sinister black SUV.
When the inevitable chase ends in an unavoidable crash, he wakes up to the grinning “greatest crime boss since Al Capone”, whose vehicle Bobby had stolen. Dante informs Tony that he will not see his scoundrel brother again until he has repaid this debt by doing some “jobs”. It’s all about raiding the lairs of rogue rivals, then single-handedly deterring them from competition. Tony refuses to handle guns (a third brother died as a child playing with one), so he accomplishes these energetic cleanings with nothing more than his fists – plus a large swing wrench.
Such crackdowns attract the attention of Boswell, who detects a civilian ally in his fight against local unions. But Tony escapes the cop’s investigations, protected by his waitress quasi-girlfriend (Suvari, stuck in a doe-eyed “honey, be careful” lot), his co-workers and other loyal friends. However, the two eventually join forces, once Dante’s henchmen cross an unforgivable line.
“The Wrecker” is lively enough, but undistinguished in its action, let alone its plot. It seems entirely recycled from swaths of other films. Nothing is too obvious to include: the scantily clad women who provide the background scenery in the “den invasion” scenes, but never get a line of dialogue; the often ridiculous ease with which the good guys defeat the bad guys (at one point, Trejo conquers a big guy by swinging an office chair); moldy and brown dialogues like “It’s one man against an army” or the inevitable “Let’s do this!!»
Knee-jerk sentimentality is signaled by any mention of “family,” and there’s a howl of a dark twist at the end. We get a training montage And an armored montage, scored on generic hard rock, naturally. The title is derived from perhaps the stupidest development of many: when Tony decides to “go to war,” his garage buddies reveal previously hidden skills to transform a truck into a “Mad Max”-style bulletproof tank, complete with a flamethrower…practically overnight, to boot.
It’s not a finest hour for any of the cast’s better-known actors, although it must be said that, unlike many similar films, they aren’t limited to glorified cameos. But the character writing is still so bland that there’s not much they can do. The lesser known ones, who often seem recruited from the ranks of professional wrestling and the like, provide some awkward comedy moments. Yet they are rarely required to provide more than a sneering physique. Foster himself is carefully presented in all the usual ways for this kind of hero who is calm, cool, and deadly when he’s pissed. (Does Tony even own a sleeved shirt?) If there’s personality, charm, or humor to go along with that rugged surface, those qualities remain MIA here.
Although it could have benefited more from the Las Vegas setting, “The Wrecker” looks quite attractive in Stefan Colson’s widescreen cinematography. Some of the visual and editorial gimmicks seem a little desperate in trying to give third-hand ideas a patina of fresh enthusiasm, but the film’s technological and design factors are solid for its relatively modest scale.
Increasingly towards the end, the stylistic and narrative conventions are so exaggerated that one begins to wonder if Camacho & co. could pull our leg. Yet the only element that reinforces this notion is Mauricio Trabanino’s original music, which ranges from standard emphasis to underlining each power! and bam! At the 1960s “Batman” series. Despite this, there is suspicion that he is making a private joke in which the other filmmakers are not involved.
