The Sunday Mail
Film Review
Tinashe Kusema
BEFORE I go on a rant, let me start off by making one or two confessions.
Firstly, I wish to make it known that I am a huge wrestling fan. This is not in reference to the Olympic sport, but the World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) variety.
Also, I think Dwayne “Rock” Johnson is somehow overrated, and The Undertaker and John Cena are arguably two of the greatest wrestlers of all time.
Oh, and All Elite Wrestling (AEW) is trash.
I am able to suspend belief beyond your ordinary man.
However, my ability to suspend belief and tolerate all kinds of nonsense has its limits. Mel Gibson’s 2022 thriller “On the Line” may have just crossed the line.
The trailer showed promise, and I had high hopes for the movie. I even went to the extent of putting it on my to-do list for the 2022 year-end.
The premise was not exactly new but refreshingly different from the mediocrity that characterised some of 2022’s prominent movies.
The film follows Gibson’s Elvis Cooney character, a Los Angeles late-night radio talk show host, who finds himself at a crossroads in his career.
The ratings for his show keep dropping, something his boss Sam Dubois (Nadia Fares) points out, but Cooney is too full of himself and sticks to his ways, instead of making some changes.
Romuald Boulanger, who wrote and directed the film, goes above and beyond in trying to paint Cooney as a despicable human being, in his clashes with co-workers, in his disregard for authority and in his refusal to learn the name of a security guard at his building, whom he decides to just call “Bob”.
He even fires a new intern Dylan (William Moseley) live on air as a prank.
During his show, a deranged caller Gary (Paul Spera) confesses that he is about to break into a house and kill the wife and daughter of a man who has wronged him.
The would-be victims, upon further inquiry, turn out to be Cooney’s wife and daughter.
Gary then forces Cooney to play an elaborate set of games, that is, if he wants to save the lives of his family, who end up being strapped with a pair of bomb jackets.
Up until this point, I had no problem with the movie, as I found the premises to have plenty of promise while the trio of Gibson, Moseley and Spera did an excellent job in the performance department.
It goes without saying that Gibson’s Cooney character was well-written, as he is the type you want to see get his comeuppance but not so much that one wants to see two innocent victims pay the price.
Unfortunately, the film’s third act is where everything falls apart.
The big reveal, and here I am using the word “big” sparingly, is unrealistic, and could result in the audience losing brain cells.
I am tempted to let the cat out of the bag, but it is a cardinal rule of this profession to avoid spoilers at all costs.
On the other hand, I would be sparing the few lucky enough not to have sat through this mindless 104-minute film some pain.
Still, no.
As a compromise, I will dish out two clues, which, ironically, are cardinal rules of every thriller movie.
The first thing one has to bear in mind is that “not everything is what it seems”.
Also, “the truth is hiding in plain sight”.
Gibson, Boulanger and the studio that sanctioned this movie should all be ashamed of themselves.
