Movie Review: Mean Guns

Movie Review: Mean Guns

Written by T. RigneyPublished February 24, 2007

When your mind wanders to the the wonky realm of high-quality direct-to-video releases, one usually doesn't spend too much time pondering the work of Cyborg director Albert Pyun. His films are somewhat lifeless and often quite boring, the latter being the greatest offense any filmmaker can commit. Even as a kid I knew his version of Captain America was utter garbage when compared to Tim Burton's comic book masterpiece. Being an avid Captain America reader, I was disappointed with the film, leaving Pyun's name forever etched in the Mortal Enemies division of my highly-chaotic brainscape. Alas, some relationships are just never meant to be. Weep hard, my pretty little children.

All of that changed, however, upon discovery of his 1997 action opus Mean Guns, starring none other than genre veteran Christopher Lambert, or as I like to call him, the Thomas Jane of the 90's. Mean Guns is so enjoyable, so impossibly fun that I actually found myself forgiving Pyun for such cinematic crimes as Arcade, Omega Doom, and Alien from L.A. He did score a few points with 2001's Ticker, but that's mostly due to the inclusion of a certain rotund aikido master and a self-destructive Hollywood burnout with male pattern baldness. Of course, Pyun needs all the points he can get at this stage in the game.

In case you've never heard of this snazzy straight-to-video title, allow me to regurgitate a generically entertaining synopsis for your viewing pleasure. It seems that a certain underworld conglomerate called The Syndicate is dissatisfied with the performance of a few of its key players. Instead of disciplining these dodgy employees one-on-one, this shady organization has devised a sinister alternative: round up the offenders inside an empty maximum security prison, supply them with an array of weaponry, and let God sort 'em out. To sweeten the pot, Syndicate representative Vincent Moon (Ice-T) has hidden ten million dollars somewhere on the premises, a prize that will be split amongst the three remaining employees.

Included in this free-for-all bullet ballet is troubled hitman Lou (Lambert), a silent but deadly shooter named Marcus (Michael Halsey), a sassy blonde assassin called D (Kimberly Warren), and a mousy little snitch named Cam (Deborah Van Valkenburgh). Their strategy is to team up, eliminate the others, then pick off the weakest member of their respective outfit. Before all is said and done, alliances will dissolve, truths will be revealed, and some silly bimbo's head will become engulfed in flames. The latter, of course, is easily the most entertaining of the bunch, but you'll want to pay close attention to the other details, as well. Seriously.

Blazing through the material like a B-grade John Woo, Pyun pumps up this very simplistic premise with tons of crazy gunplay and plenty of mean-spirited action. Though the film retains the goofy director's penchant for bizarre camera angles and lightning-fast editing, these gimmicks seem to enhance Mean Guns' entertainment quotient by leaps and bounds. All of those weird close-ups and what-not give the film a slightly surreal atmosphere, allowing even the stupidest of events to seem completely natural in the grand scheme of things.

This also sets the tone for the film's many outrageous action set pieces, which take excellent advantage of the story's prison setting. As soon as you grow tired of one setting, the characters are bounding off to another. It also breaks up that feeling of claustrophobia one gets when watching a movie set in one central location. Unlike such films as Trespass and Panic Room, you never feel boxed in, forever confined to a limited number of rooms. It also helps matters considerably that the fights themselves are comically brutal and surprisingly inspired. This is probably the film's saving grace.

Booking a flight on Pyun's High-Octane Thrill Ride(tm) is my personal Lord and Savior Christopher Lambert, a man many people believe to be the skidmark on the direct-to-video market's proverbial underwear. The man practically struts through every scene of Mean Guns, dishing out his patented brand of cockiness served lovingly with a side order of persistent giggling. As soon as something remotely humorous passes across his lips, Lambert is already laughing right along with you. If he could reach out and pat you on the back to enhance the joke, he probably would.

What about everyone else, you ask? Well, they're okay, too. Michael Halsey gets the Golden Co-Star Award, while Ice-T gets the Why Am I Even In This Movie? Badge for his brilliant performance as Vincent Moon, who basically just nods and scratches his chin for roughly two hours. His character's elaborate surveillance system, which allows him to view events as they unfold as though he were merely watching Cinemax, prevents him from having to get his hands dirty by actually contributing to a scene. A stroke of brilliance? I can't tell, really.

For a 110-minute film with essentially no plot, Mean Guns is quite good. Everyone involved seems well aware of what they're making, so you can't really knock the film for being so blatantly stupid. The crude violence and dopey humor may offend those with finer tastes in cinema, but the rest of us will be knee-deep in B-Grade goodness.

Though I doubt I'll continue to investigate the filmography of a certain Albert Pyun any time soon, Mean Guns has certainly made me see this dodgy action director in a slightly different light. Can I forgive him for every single past transgression, you ask? Of course not. Once you've cast Andrew "Dice" Clay in a lead role, there simply is no redemption.