MOVIE REVIEW: 13 Hours--The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi (2016)

By now, we all know the story (well, sort of)—on September 11, 2012, Libyan extremists attacked the US Consulate in Benghazi, murdering Ambassador Christopher Stevens. Stationed a mile away were 6 members of the Annex Security Team, ex-soldiers turned private security specialists hired to protect operatives and diplomats in the city. As the deadly assault raged on, the 6 men ignored a stand-down order and engaged the enemy in a series of firefights to save the lives of the remaining Americans.

Let’s get one thing straight right from the get-go: I am reviewing 13 Hours solely from the perspective of an action movie. The political angle is not something I wish to discuss here. Sure, I have my own opinions of Hillary Clinton, but this is not a political rant. The film doesn’t include that aspect and neither will I. We can save the axe-grinding for another time.

"Yes, I DO want fries with that."

With the politics ignored, 13 Hours can be enjoyed for what it is—a bombastic (as only Michael Bay can do) action flick about gritty warriors doing gutsy things while bullets fly. Depth, nuance, and subtlety are eschewed in favor of autofire and explosions. I make no apologies for being a Michael Bay fan; simply put, I appreciate his popcorn visuals. You can poke fun at his rapid cuts and frequent slo-mo and his offbeat camera angles and his patriotic shots of the American flag and heroes silhouetted against a blazing sunset and you know what? I totally understand all the mocking and hate. But me, I love Bay’s directorial flourishes and when they’re applied to an R-rated action flick, yeah, I get a little excited.

13 Hours is very much in the vein of Last Survivor, Black Hawk Down, and Act of Valor, albeit filtered through the Michael Bay aesthetic. Characterization is minimal, the political back-story is all but jettisoned, and instead we simply focus on 6 men who refused to stand by and let Americans die. The action is fast and furious and everything blows up real good.

The movie runs too long at nearly 2.5 hrs. and would have benefited from some trimming, but it’s rarely boring and the constant gun battles ensure action fans get their fix, even if that fix drags on longer than it should and risks viewer fatigue (it is possible to have too much action). And since this is “based on a true story,” the film doesn’t stray far from the facts and therefore just sort of ends. And because of that adherence to facts, there is no primary villain to root against, no main bad guy to cathartically watch meet their demise. Granted, none of this can really be avoided, but the abrupt, anti-climactic ending might leave some action aficionados dissatisfied.

What will satisfy many of those aficionados is the hard-R rating. It’s not extremely graphic or gory (save a scene toward the end) but there is blood and the overall tone is tough and gritty; no neutered PG-13 crap here. I wish Bay would stop toying around with the Transformers and make more action movies like this. But as they say, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Listen, if you’re looking for an insightful documentary about the Benghazi tragedy, this isn’t it. But if you’re simply in the mood for a slickly-directed guns ‘n’ guts action bonanza, this fits the bill. It’s the best thing Bay has done in a long time and while it doesn’t rise to the level of The Rock or Bad Boys, it’s good to see him back on R-rated, bullets-blazing cinematic turf.

BOOK REVIEW: "First Contract" by Frank Westworth

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“First Contract” is an origin story, chronicling the recruitment of protagonist JJ Stone into the bloody world of black ops and the details of his first assignment. This was my first introduction to Stone--and his creator, Frank Westworth--but the chances of it being my last are about as slim as me having tea and crumpets with Queen Elizabeth this evening. Because I don’t like crumpets. Or tea, for that matter. Except iced tea, sweetened. With lots of sugar. But I digress…

Speaking of sugar, this short story doesn’t have much (if any). Instead, it sports all the ingredients action-thriller fans crave: a rough-and-tumble protagonist, plenty of action, brutal violence, crackling dialogue, and deftly-handled plot twists. JJ Stone is a character you can root for, despite the fact that he is a bit more ruthless than your typical "hero" (seriously, check out how coldly he executes some prisoners at the beginning). Oh, and he rides a Harley Davidson, which instantly makes him jump up at least two notches on the coolness scale.

This story packs a lot of action into not a lot of pages (about 25 or so) and even better, it’s fairly graphic. Maybe not Joseph Rosenberger or David Alexander graphic, but it’s not kiddie stuff either.  I am not a fan of sterile, "PG-13" violence and neither, it seems, is Westworth. Things get messy and for that, God bless him and pass the brewskies.

While style is always subjective, it does merit mention that the prose frequently leans toward the overly descriptive end of the spectrum. Not flowery or anything like that—this is an action thriller, not Jane Austen—but sometimes the writing gets a little wordy when something shorter and punchier might have sufficed. That said, the thriller genre is oversaturated, bloated with authors who strip their prose down to the bare bones, barren of any sense of style in the quest to be described as "tight, terse, and economical" just like every other novel in this market, so it can be refreshing to read something that dares to be a little different and roams down the road of richer language.

Bottom line, if you're a fan of the guns ‘n’ guts genre, Westworth is well worth checking out.

BOOK REVIEW: "Gator Bait" by Adam Howe

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Adam Howe writes with pitch-black wit and gulp-worthy violence in “Gator Bait,” a swamp-noir-horror (swampoirror?) set during the 1930s Prohibition. Now, mixing a bayou period piece and horror is no easy task, but Howe pulls it off with aplomb by throwing some “creature feature” dynamics into the steamy stew and cooking up a pulpy recipe for literary success.

A ragtag drifter named Smitty opens the story by losing three fingers to a cuckolded husband. (On a side note, while reading this part, all I could think of was the, “On your finger scale, how was my wife?” scene from The Last Boy Scout. Man, I love that movie! But I digress…) Smitty, sans some digits, gets the eff outta Dodge and ends up in a sleazy backwater dive where the owner, Horace Croker, gives him a job playing the piano. At first Smitty sticks around for the money, but when he gets an eyeful of Grace, his boss’s smoking-hot-and-ready-to-trot wife, he finds another reason to stay. Problem is, Grace is in permanent “hands off” status and Horace has a nasty habit of taking those who piss him off and tossing them to Big George, the massive gator that lives behind—and under—the honky-tonk. You might think you can see where all this is going, but Howe has several twists up his sleeve and leavens the inevitability with some eye-popping surprises.

This novella is chock full of restless energy that prowls like a caged tiger and tight, gripping dialogue. Every facet of the story—plot, characters, setting, action—is skillfully rendered. This is rich, violent, pulpy fun from start to finish and I sported an ear-to-ear grin on my face as I read about all the dastardly doings down at the Grinnin’ Gator.

Bottom line, “Gator Bait” is Joe R. Lansdale chugging moonshine with John Skipp as Tobe Hooper fires up a blowtorch. And if that doesn’t make you want to read this, then nothing will.