The Naked Gun

At eighty five minutes, with credits, director Akiva Schaffer's belated addition to The Naked Gun series absolutely breezes by. Liam Neeson squeezes in amongst rapid-fire gags as Frank Drebin Jr, the weepy, equally accident-prone son of Leslie Nielsen's sadly departed Police Squad cop. Neeson, an actor largely known for arthritic action films, is a physically gruffer presence than the oblivious, even childlike Nielsen. Neeson brings a different sort of energy to this piece then, a slower much more agitated kind of torpor. While Nielsen's Drebin was a straight man tumbling through farcical situations, Neeson's take is closer to a tweak on the sinkhole attention deployed in heavily delayed action movie sequels. He's the ageing but invincible pensioner who is still able to muddle through all sorts of sticky situations. If anything this absurdist take is a lot more honest about the flagrant sort of wish-fulfilment taking place in a movement of films where rickety elder bodies are able to physically crush and pulverise far younger, better maintained physiques. Aside from a spot of thermal voyeurism and some wonderful mime incredulity from Neeson, when asked to consider a glass of fizzing water, much of what lingers about this Naked Gun belongs to Pamela Anderson. The actress not only nailing the tone of her bumbling femme fatale but providing an otherwise flat and photographically unremarkable film with a face that cinematographer Brandon Trost can really pore over.