Haywire

Haywire is a smart film, but it isn’t profound. It’s smart in the sense that it exemplifies intelligent, self-aware filmmaking and tells its story quickly and directly without condescending to the audience. But Haywire isn’t interested in probing the mysteries of human behavior or complexities of existence; rather, it’s interested in portraying the most stylish and fun-to-watch actions scenes possible.

From the first minutes to the final shot, Haywire is about one thing: Gina Carano kicking butt. Carano—a mixed martial arts superstar and former American Gladiator—plays a covert ops specialist named Mallory Kane who works contracted jobs for government agencies. As the film opens, she’s on the run—pursued by the very agency she’s been working for. Much of the film finds her in various states of fighting, escaping, or exacting revenge on her pursuers. We jump back and forth in time and across the world—San Diego, Barcelona, Dublin, New York, New Mexico, to name a few—as we unravel, alongside Mallory, the corruption and conspiracy within her special ops outfit.

Gina Carano as Mallory, the glam version …

Director Steven Soderbergh has a knack for stylishly reinventing or riffing on established Hollywood genres (Ocean’s Eleven did it with the heist genre; Contagion did it last fall with the disease disaster genre), and Haywire is very much an experiment in the Bond/Bourne spy thriller genre. Soderbergh’s main twist on the genre is that his protagonist—every bit as suave, smart and lethal as Bond/Bourne—is a woman. And yet this isn’t as novel or attention-grabbing as you might expect it to be; it’s simply a fact about the character. In every important way (including seducing her colleagues), Mallory Kane functions just like her Bond/Bourne-esque male counterparts.

The “female fighting machine” movie has become its own genre in recent years (Hanna, Sucker Punch, Kick Ass, Kill Bill, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), and Haywire is a worthy addition to the list. But Haywire is less interested in gender politics than the poetics of action choreography and spy movie tropes. Soderbergh aims to create memorable and stylish fight/chase scenes, and he succeeds. There are about six or seven big action sequences, each exceedingly well-choreographed and executed. A hotel room brawl between Carano and Michael Fassbender (as a British spy) is particularly memorable, as is a hostage rescue operation in Barcelona. Soderbergh shoots elegantly and smoothly, without the jittery handheld tendencies of many contemporary filmmakers; and it’s all very well edited, fast-paced, and classy.

But as good as the action sequences are, the film cannot stand on them alone. Unfortunately there isn’t much else for the film to stand on. It does have a great ensemble cast, a trademark of Soderbergh films. As male spies and bureaucrats who meet varying fates at the hands of the protagonist, Ewan McGregor, Channing Tatum, Michael Douglas, and Antonio Banderas all have fun with the material and inject charisma into characters that are mostly just punching bags for our heroine. But the actors are nothing without their stunt doubles, who are the real attraction in this all-action, all-the-time film.

The film is unabashedly violent; but where other filmmakers gratuitously focus on the violence, blood, and gore (Nicholas Winding Refn’s Drive comes to mind), Soderbergh has a more restrained approach. There is fighting galore, plenty of broken bones, and a few bodies, but no spurting blood or exploding heads. The closest we get is when Mallory finishes off a victim by covering his face with a pillow and shooting at his head through the pillow. Why cover his face to kill him? It seems as much a mercy to the audience as it does a strategic move for Mallory to limit mess from the blood splatter.

Antonio Banderas as Rodrigo

For all the violence, it never feels quite as brutal or cringe-worthy as it might with another filmmaker. But it does sometimes feel intentionally fake. The bloodless gunfights, knife fights, and mixed martial arts takedowns come across as self-reflexive statements about Hollywoodized violence. Or maybe it’s just Soderbergh’s personal preference. None of his movies are particularly gory.

Whatever Soderbergh’s intentions are with Haywire, the result is decidedly mixed. On one hand it’s a more or less flawless attempt at a stylish contemporary spy film. It has its moments of excellent action sequences and funny one-liners; and down to the fonts, locations, costumes and production design, Haywire is the epitome of cool.

Michael Douglas as Coblenz

But on the other, what is its point? Does it have a soul? As a character, Mallory Kane is sadly one-dimensional, and though deeper things are hinted at—romantic attachments, her relationship with her father (Bill Paxton)—they are regrettably left unexplored. This leaves the audience less emotionally invested in the characters than they should be, and ultimately reduces the action sequences to low-stakes brawls in which we (mostly) don’t care who wins.

Still, Haywire has its merits. Soderbergh’s eclectic visual style is always fun to watch, and his clear love of moviemaking comes through in Haywire‘s celebratory “yeah cinema!” tone. It’s a fun, quick, sharp moviegoing experience—just one without much take-home value.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

What motivates Mallory? Who in the film does she actually have an emotional connection to?
Is the violence in this film in any way a commentary on how cinema has historically depicted violence?
Which characters in Haywire are interested in doing the right thing?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

Haywire is rated R for violence, and while it is nearly constant it never seems excessively explicit or gratuitous. There is lots of hand-to-hand combat and some shooting, but not much blood. There is also some language, but not much more than your average PG-13 film. There are a few implied sex scenes but none are shown, and there is no nudity.