Steven Soderbergh's HAYWIRE is certainly one of the classier exploitation films to come along in recent memory; it's a diverting, not-too-bloody/not-too-trashy one-off in which A-list actors take a righteous beating from drop-dead gorgeous MMA star Gina Carano. Soderbergh has described the film as a Pam Grier movie directed by Alfred Hitchcock, and it does make you wish you could've seen, say, Burt Reynolds, Michael Caine and Malcolm McDowell throwing down with the badass legend in her early-1970s heyday. And yet intimidating as Grier could be, she lacked the Muay-Thai-trained lethalness that allows Carano to not only convincingly go toe-to-toe with her male costars, but appear the clear favorite in every brawl.
What Carano currently lacks is a vivacious onscreen personality to complement her martial arts expertise, which wouldn't be a problem if HAYWIRE was a low-aiming actioner like HARD TO KILL or KICKBOXER. This is where the film's formal elegance works against it; while Lem Dobbs has wisely written Carano's Mallory as a laconic, deadly serious government operative (therefore requiring only the bare minimum of "acting" from the newcomer), she never quite registers as a character. Betrayed by her colleagues and left to fend for herself as they all close in for the kill, we root for Mallory only because she's presented as the clear protagonist; on a basic human level, we feel nothing for her. Sure, we're in awe of her physical prowess, but Carano never expresses anything close to an actual human emotion. As she dispatches all adversaries with vicious efficacy, Mallory comes on less like a female Jason Bourne and more like Robert Patrick's T-1000.
None of this is really Carano's fault - and given the breezy ninety-three-minute run time, her detachment isn't much of an issue. Soderbergh and Dobbs have constructed HAYWIRE as a cool, all-surfaces diversion; it's an economically shot-and-edited revenge flick with a little gender role reversal kick (and enlivened by a spectacular David Holmes score). Soderbergh once again flashes back and forth in the timeline to keep viewers on their toes; we begin with Mallory dispatching a former partner (Channing Tatum) sent to kill her, and then get caught up on the particulars of the double cross. The suspects are myriad and all male (Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas, Ewan McGregor and Michael Fassbender), which doesn't carry quite the charge that it should. Once you've seen Carano destroy likes of Tatum and Fassbender, you're left pitying every treacherous bastard fool enough to plot against her. Even when she's outnumbered, you always sense that Mallory has the upper hand.
There have been credible female ass-kickers in this genre before (Cynthia Rothrock springs instantly to mind), but none of them possessed Carano's volatile mix of beauty and brutality. Interestingly, it's this combination that turns some off to her professional fighting career; every time she steps in the cage, she runs the risk of getting her alluring physiognomy permanently rearranged. And this points up a huge double standard: women aren't allowed to be "ruggedly gorgeous". True, Soderbergh was initially taken with Carano after seeing her sport a black eye in defeat (to Cris "Cyborg" Santos), but those heal. A broken nose or cheekbone... that's blunt-force cosmetic surgery, and who knows how those bones are going to re-situate themselves? Surely, her agents and managers are eager to avoid such a career-limiting outcome.
Whenever Carano is asked about her MMA future, it's clear she wants to keep fighting and perhaps one day avenge her loss to Cyborg (who's currently serving a one-year suspension for steroid use). As for using HAYWIRE as a springboard to action stardom, she says the right things in interviews, but is so awkward in her non-combat scenes that I'm not sure I believe her. Acting is about the pursuit of inner truth, and locating it can be emotionally fulfilling. But the truth doesn't hide in the octagon; it's forged. Carano is ferociously alive in her fights, but, thus far, her acting career seems like someone else's idea. HAYWIRE is a well-crafted action exercise for Soderbergh (perhaps a dry run for his scrapped MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. movie), and an uncertain audition for Carano. I would love to see her become the first bankable female action star, but not at the expense of proving she's more than the "face of women's MMA" - if that's what she wants. In the end, it's her face, her life and her truth.
Faithfully submitted,
