Brothers in Arms

I must confess, remixing classic old “white” genres with a gangster-rap twist has always been a guilty pleasure of mine, which is why I jumped at the chance to rent Brothers in Arms, starring Kurupt and David Carradine. But much to my chagrin, I found out the hard way that this “colorful” gang of cowboys could more aptly be called  “Sisters in Arms”, in this estrogen-packed melodrama.

Yes, in spite its wonderful premise — a band of charismatic black cowboys rob a bank owned by David Carradine — this movie does its best to stomp all over the feel-good expectations that viewers will no doubt be having when they rent it, leaving us feeling tricked and disappointed early on. You’ll realize you’ve been the victim of a “bait-and-switch” the moment you listen to the dark-skinned protagonists seriously debate the appropriateness of using the word “nigger” with a black deputy who has come to arrest them. Mind-numbing political correctness ensues for the remaining 80% of the movie.

Blah blah blah, please die already.

In this re-imagining of the Wild West there is no systemic racial discrimination, nor is there sexism.  One gets the impression that colored people aren’t even minorities, since the town is apparently populated with an equal number of dark and light skins.  The Sheriff is a woman of course, the cowboys are all dark, but we are never given the sense that this is unusual; we must simply accept the fiction and carry on.  Why?  Who knows.  But before you get worried, rest assured that the richest and most evil men are still all white idiotic men.  I suppose it’s fine to pretend that blacks were well-spoken gentlemen of the prairies, but unreasonable to pretend that one of them would rise to power and become corrupt.  We wouldn’t want to reinforce negative stereotypes…?

Anyway, that’s not the problem with Brothers in Arms.  The problem is that all of this era-altering bullshit comes at the cost of believable characters, enjoyable pacing, and interesting action sequences.  It’s as if the creators were literally so concerned with avoiding landmines and preaching their gospel that they forgot to include something the viewer might actually want to see. Even the opening credits seem to punish the Western action movie  fan, as the camera slowly pans back and forth over a sloppy blueprint of some simple-looking bank for 15 minutes straight, ensuring that anyone who mustered up some excitement has been safely sedated by the time the opening scene plays. And if you don’t believe me, think about this: the main characters literally spend most of the movie laying down on the ground and talking about their feelings…

We ain't leavin' until all our interpersonal conflictions be resolved, boys. Let it all out now...

Times were tough, but they were tougher; this is the key to understanding the appeal of the cowboys, and it is nowhere in this awful movie.  Cowboys were hard-bitten sons of bitches living outside the law, fighting just to get by.  They worked, killed and played by their own rules, and they answered to no one but their own sense of justice.  Strong and silent—or otherwise wild—they knew that talking about your feelings is gay.  Hell, isn’t that the same appeal of gangster rappers?  It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, so be a man and take what you need!  Just look at the lyrics of this timeless Snoop Dogg song featuring Kurupt himself, entitled “For All My Niggaz & Bitchez”:

Well it’s that slow flow, D-O-double-G, nigga
See these other fools but you can’t see me, nigga
Who am I? (It’s Kurupt motherfucker)
Do or die (We gives a fuck motherfucker)
So slow your roll, I’m In Control like Janet
The loc-est twenty-one year old nigga that’s on this planet
Take it for granted, if ya wanna, cuz I’m gonna
grab my strap then clear the corner, beeotch!!

Truer words have never been spoken.  Not only does this perfectly explain the mentality of the “streets” today, but also the Old West.  Think about it. And when you’re done thinking about it, look at this shit:

Here, Kurupt's feelings are hurt when this bitch calls him a dapper dandyboy.

The failure to acknowledge the obvious similarities between the ghetto ‘hood and the Wild West not only comes off as a missed opportunity, it undermines the grim reality of both at once.  Rather than playing on the themes of lawlessness and desperation that were/are so pervasive, the movie seems to imply that minorities have always had the freedom to work and gain wealth by honest means — meaning that robbing a bank and committing crimes is truly unjustified! …Unless of course you actually listened to all the dreary meandering of the characters (we watched these parts in 1.5 speed to hurry it up) as they all take turns explaining how the evil white man personally took the time to deprive them of everything they had, in which case the question becomes why their plans for revenge and riches are so god damned stupid.

Finally.

There’s a lot more I could say about this trainwreck, from its completely illogical plot points to its Celine Dion climax song, but it’s just not worth the page space. Comically bad movies are supposed to be filled with insane (yet oblivious) moments of hilarity, but this movie is self-aware to the point where it feels like the product of a humorless committee of liberal white university students being paid to discourage the glorification of Westerns and black stereotypes simultaneously via the medium of a film.  And that’s why this never-ending grind gets a Level 2 Badness Rating… It’s just not worth making that much fun of.