Rush Hour 3 film review

certificate_12A

RUSH HOUR 3

It's the year of the trequel. Pirates of the Caribbean, Shrek, Bourne and Spider-Man all released their third installments. And now we have Rush Hour 3. Only rarely does the third film match the original, with The Bourne Ultimatum being the exception amongst this year's batch. Generally it's an inferior facsimile, promoted by greed rather than any compelling artistic desire. Rush Hour 3 is a prime example. Nine years after the first Rush Hour film, the actors are older and so are the jokes. There is nothing here that wasn't fresher and funnier first, or even second, time around. Chris Tucker's wisecracks and bug-eyed expression get recycled while Jackie Chan's once stunning athleticism has been dulled with age.

Apparently even Tucker was reluctant to reprise the role of Detective James Carter for which he has become synonymous. Hardly surprising since it's the only role he's played in the last ten years. Quite why Tucker's phenomenally successful career has been confined to so little work is a mystery. Perhaps he's worried about diluting his canon of work, or maybe he's only capable of the one performance, or perhaps he's simply made so much money, he can't be bothered. Who knows? More importantly, who cares?

In order to bring something new to the table, Rush Hour 3 finds our intrepid, bumbling policemen Carter and Chief Inspector Lee (Jackie Chan) in Paris. The city becomes the star, especially during the climax which involves an elaborate fight sequence atop the Eiffel Tower (or, more accurately, a CGI and mock up Tower). The setting also provides the opportunity for one of cinema's most unlikely cameos as Roman Polanski makes his first acting appearance in an American film in 15 years, and only his second since his memorable performance in 1974's Chinatown, as a Paris police detective.

The European location also offers an opportunity to ridicule America's violent reputation. After embroiling an innocent cab driver in their mission, Carter and Lee deflate his gun-toting aspirations by reminding him he's French and not a Yank. "I'll never be an American," the cabbie mourns, adding "I'll never know what it's like to kill for no reason." That his name is George is not an accident.