David Ayer, 2012, USA
“End of Watch”
presents a YouTube, subjective, “found footage” point-of-view aesthetic: the
cops we are following utilise cameras – by hand, on their dashboards and lapels
– to present the story, which means there is a lot of to-camera addresses. This
is on top of the obviousness and redundancy of the opening narration, which
explains and stresses that the cops are good guys, that they are heroic and
against Evil (“Evil”?); all of which ought to be self-evident. Except that we
have a litany of corrupt-cop fiction and fact that seems to require that we
have such a disclaimer fronting the film, just in case we don’t quite assume
from the outset that the cops are the ones to root for. And: except this
narration is on top a dashboard-cam view of a car chase that ends with the cops
getting out of their car and, in retaliation/defence, shoot down a couple of
criminals and then high-five one another at the kills. So, perhaps without the
narration, the goodness of the cops might be felt to be a bit ambiguous; they
are a little bit too pleased, if justified. Indeed, it becomes quickly evident
that our two heroes are a little too tiresomely cowboyish in their approach to
law enforcement because, as nearly every Hollywood production tells us, you
have to break and bend the rules and be a maverick in order to get justice and
goodness done. Following the law and regulations is for the laughably uptight and
cowards. And it becomes quickly apparent that the film buys into this and
doesn’t question their recklessness, seeing it as a part of their professional
duty. So then the opening narration is to be taken at face value and
ambiguities and shades of grey are to be shrugged off; but the fact that it is
so obvious and arguably redundant and that the voice-over is a technique never
used again belies the confusion of the film’s whole aesthetic.
The cops filming
themselves on duty seems a dubious premise from the start and it proves and
elucidates not a thing: we learn nothing from the fact that they are filming
themselves. But the thing is that the film is not found-footage, even if it superficially seems to be. In fact,
after some to-camera addresses, it becomes apparent that there appears to be a
third, invisible and omnipotent cameraman running around after them, shoving
the camera in their faces and then rushing home to super-edit everything. It is
neither one thing nor the other and point-of-views are thrown around all over
the place, making obsolete the premise that the cops are filming themselves all
the time. There is unintended irony in that - to maintain the conceit of found
footage perspective – the gangsters also film themselves (because they are
stupid?), which gestures at similarities between the lawless cowboy vanity of
cops and killers. What we do get is constant ugly close-ups of faces and shaky-cam
that is frequently as nauseating and incoherent as the recent found-footage
horror “V/H/S”. Also, there are so many edits – often shots last no longer than
a second – that this further undermines the found-footage conceit. We start
from a dashcam point of view, but is this the same camera mounted on the bonnet
and turned to face the cops so we can capture their amusing bonding-banter? Who
knows?
It is up to the
performances to save the piece, and indeed Gyllenhall and Michael Peña put in fully winning turns as our pranking, faintly
assholish, sometimes commendable and sentimental protagonists. At its best, the
film does nod to the casual heroism of our guys, in particular when they dash
into a burning house to save children, although the editing is so rapid and
random that it’s pretty hard to follow what’s going on other than: oh, they are
in a burning house to save children (and, of course, how cowboyish of them too).
It’s an engaging
enough mess, guided by on-patrol atrocities and frat boy pranks, cop-movie
clichés and good performances. Perhaps the most interesting aspect, which the
film fails to capitalise upon, is that these two wannabe maverick law enforcers
seem to be getting into something much bigger than they but seem quite clueless
to their predicament, even when warned off by Federal Agents. But the aesthetic
is so terminally confused by the outset and the tropes so little engaged with
and questioned that nothing original emerges from the whole. William Friedkin
has said that “End of Watch” may be the “best cop film ever”. No. Head over to Oren
Moverman’s “Rampart” for far greater character study, modern aesthetic and
complexity (yes, Woody Harrelson’s cop is corrupt, but it’s far more honest
depiction of the cowboy-ing cop), or over to Friedkin’s own “The French Connection”,
of course. Indeed, watch
David Ayer’s previous dramas “Training Day” and “Dark Blue” for better police
dramas. We can do with as many respectful pro-cop dramas as exposes of corruption,
I am sure, but “End of Watch” manages it only through cop film clichés,
policing as YouTube footage and video game p.o.v. shoot-em-ups then topped with
cheaply-won sentimentality. It fronts heroism over coherence, perhaps. If the
camera had held still for a moment, perhaps there would have been some kind of
focus.
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