After the Sunset
Starring Pierce Brosnan, Salma Hayek, Woody Harrelson, and Don Cheadle.
Rated PG-13.
If Pierce Brosnan was hoping to distance himself from James Bond and establish himself as a bona fide actor, he should have picked a better movie. After the Sunset is pure fluff, mildly enjoyable and for the most part harmless, but as clichéd as a paper umbrella in a slushy blue cocktail. Brosnan stars as cucumber-cool jewel thief Max Burdett, a master at snatching rare diamonds from the clutches of state-of-the-art security systems. His partner in crime is luscious Lola Cirillo (Hayek) who occupies a most critical role here - bikini-clad eye candy - proving that implants, not diamonds, truly are a girl's best friend. Now in transition from a life of law-breaking to a life of leisure, Max and Lola are quietly enjoying their days together on an unnamed French island in the tropics, planning their nuptials, when a luxury cruise ship with a priceless diamond exhibit sails into port and tempts the pilfering pair out of retirement. Hot on their heels is bumbling FBI Agent Stan Lloyd (Harrelson) who has been thwarted one too many times by Max and wants to bring down the long arm of the law as payback. To complicate matters, an unscrupulous expatriate Henri Moree (Cheadle) wants Max to steal the diamond to provide the seed money for a "humanitarian" casino on the island.
The dialogue in After the Sunset is swift and slick, with the one-liners coming faster than pounding surf, and the antagonistic camaraderie between Max and Stan has moments of genuine humour. Their cat-and-mouse game, notwithstanding one skin-crawling scene involving sun tan lotion and a dead shark, is the most interesting and amusing element in the whole film. Unfortunately Max and Lola have a palpable lack of chemistry, partly explained by the fact that Brosnan looks downright awful, grizzled and covered in a thick grey sweater of body hair. Harrelson looks equally unappetizing shirtless (not since his Cheers days has he been anything other than creepy and gross) and his dalliance with a tough-talking sexy young cop from the island stretches the bounds of credibility. If I seem preoccupied with appearances here, that would be because there is really nothing else of note in After the Sunset. The plot is looser than the stool of a tourist who "drank the water" and this whole mess should fade from memory faster than a sunset on a cloudy day. If Brosnan had any sense, he would put his shirt back on and concentrate his efforts not on stealing precious gems but on stealing back the Bond role from Ewen McGregor.
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