Make me thrill as only you know how

Each Day, A Film:
February 8th 2012 (Retrospective)

Then again, we may as well talk about Training Day as not.



Seriously, we may as well. Because I have a... 'fun' story about the film.

Back in the day, when the film came out, I was still friends with someone with whom I've burnt the bridge since quite comprehensively, but that's another story for another time. Now, at the time he was a friend, I remember watching this on DVD with him. I'd seen it before, but I don't know if he had.

I don't remember anything about watching the film with him other than the one moment when, towards the end, Ethan Hawke lands a lethal-looking punch on Denzel Washington following a protracted fight sequence, and my friend looked ecstatic at this, laughing and cheering. It could have been just because the good guy - the good cop who's consistently fucked around throughout the entire narrative - finally lands a victory on the bad cop.

But there isn't good cop and bad cop, any more than there's white hats and black hats, and I was really uncomfortable because it felt a lot like my 'friend' was just impressed by Ethan Hawke - notably, let's be honest, a white man - landing a haymaker on Denzel Washington who is - again, let's lay our cards on the table - an African American.

It didn't feel like it was because it was the climax of the film, it felt like he was celebrating it because the good white man was triumphing over the eeeee-vil black man.

Like I said, a bit uncomfortable.

Now, Training Day itself is, no bones about it, an excellent film. The balance is pretty much just right between making Ethan Hawke as the good man in a bad place  sympathetic as it is about making Denzel Wasthington, a devil attempting to rule his own hell, likeable, on however temporary a basis. That's no mean feat; look at it this way, making Ethan Hawke relatable in Training Day is like making Jude Law relatable in Existenz (and I know there's some odd capitalisation there, but I can't be bothered to look it up, so hey); it shouldn't work, but it does, then Willem DaFoe cripples you with a boltgun.

I've seen Training Day on my own, I've seen Training Day with friends with questionable attitudes to racial politics, I've seen Training Day with friends without questionable attitudes to racial politics, and I've always thought I'd look forward to seeing it again.

Then I saw The Shield, then Harsh Times, then Street Kings, and suddenly that urge to visit LA - more than the hour I've spent there in my life - has suddenly diminished.

Such is life, I guess.

Now, yes, I could have talked about the plot of the film - man sows the seeds of his own destruction, tries to buy his way out of it, Ethan Hawke stops him - but the plot is almost secondary to Hawke and Washington, somehow.

But for me, it's all about the memories - about who I've watched it with, and where, and how, from the DVD to the screener video another friend had it on where you had the Universal Pictures Copyright Message pop up every twenty minutes and it still didn't detract from how good the film was.