Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Action figures domesticated for your amusement.

I don't think it's a good sign, when watching a film, to imagine what the pitch meeting sounded like. "O.K., we've seen action stars do all kinds of things. But what would they be like," significant pause during which I image Simon Kinberg raised his eyebrows with a look of knowing revelation, "at home?" the formula-brained screen writer might've rhetorically asked from the visitor's chair. He's the writer of "X-Men 3" (in production) and--not a big surprise--"XXX: State of the Union." Though the latter didn't star Vin Diesel (Ice Cube carried on the name), I have a hard time believing the script would stray much from the Dick-heavy formula of its predecessor. Therefore, I am not much surprised by the Dick Flickness of "Mr. & Mrs. Smith."

The film begins with the title characters in marriage counseling. Immediately, we understand that they are two people living very separate lives, with no idea that the other is also a spy. The therapist asks, "How often do you have sex?" And Jolie deadpans, "I don't understand the question."

So, the first job we see each of them do establishes who they are and how they manage their careers and, by extension, their lives. Naturally, it's imperative that we see Angelina Jolie's Jane Smith posing as a Dominitrix in order to get her mark. She is dressed in fishnets, over the knee spikey heeled vinyl boots w/matching strapless mini-dress--all black. Her swarthy victim is delighted to see her. She asks him, while she strikes him with a riding crop, if he's been a bad boy...snore...And then says, "Have you been been selling guns to the bad guys?" Twist, snap! She breaks his neck, makes a speady and flashy getaway. Lowering herself on a pully 20 or 30 stories down, her pink-lined black shiny coat billows around her waist. See, the pink lining is so we know that even though she looks cold and calculating on the outside, she's really just a soft, feminine woman like the rest of us. She's just dying to let that pink lining come out from the black exterior of her heart. Inside, she just wants to be a girl!

Brad Pitt's John Smith is a seeming bungler. His first on-screen hit begins when he stumbles into the lair of the as-yet-absent Lucky and convinces Lucky's cronies that he, John Smith, is nothing more than a dumb guy, overloaded on liquid courage. The silliness ensues; we see a montage of him playing with the cronies, betting with them, drinking with them. But when Lucky walks in, outraged that someone is in his seat, John Smith the Assasin turns on and quickly kills his poker buddies and Lucky.

First unfortunate dynamic: She's cold and calculating and always in control, he's play-by-instinct, slightly hair-brained and seems always favored by luck as much as skill. When their paths cross on the same job, this is exactly what we see. While relieving himself in the desert-scene of this anonymous-to-them confrontation, he sees he has inadvertentely peed on himself. She witnesses this and it helps her identify him as her adversary. She meanwhile is confidently holed up in a make-shift bunker surrounded by surveillance equipment and computers. He's in a sand buggy and carrying a rocket launcher. Sophisticated vs. Simple. Can the emasculation be far behind? He just needs to find his masculinity and he'll be fine.

Why must it be that her power diminishes his own? What about an even footing? I know, I know...that's not entertaining. I'm sure the filmmakers would call them archtypes. I call them cliches, stereotypes, only because the film industry has been using them for so long.

And it's at this point that Vince Vaughn's Eddie notes, "You had your ass handed to you by a girl?" Happily, John Smith is not so incredulous as his partner. Nor so transparently sexist.

Why do women have to be called girls in action movies? Even in "Contact" with Jodie Foster, James Woods' character refers to her at the end as "the girl". The girl? The fucking girl? SHE JUST FACILITATED THE DISCOVERY OF ANOTHER LIFE FORM IN THE UNIVERSE AND SHE'S A GIRL???? Obviously, I am not a fan of this. Now, culturally, I don't think women being called girl is necessarily always a bad thing. I call myself and my friends girls from time to time. But it describes another aspect of my personality, and is not ever, as in the example above, diminutive. It's kind of like black folks. They can use a racial epithet to refer to one another and it's OK; but white folks just can't say that word. I'm afraid I feel the same way about men saying "girl."

I suppose one blessing in this is that the woman, at least, isn't the one who is action-challenged (When they first fight together, and he hands her a gun she says, "Why do I get the girl gun?") And John Smith isn't really clueless. He's just got a frat-boy vibe. His secret HQ is in a dilapidated looking warehouse. An old and unattractive motherly woman (den mother?) hands him his papers from her cluttered desk. Jane's hide-out is on the 50th floor of a Lexington Avenue office building. Her company's front is I-Temp Technology Staffing and her office is peopled exclusively with beautiful women who are carbon copies of Jane. They all wear form-fitting clothes which are black and white. Their office is sleek, shiny and extremely high-tech.

Yada, yada, yada...they find out they've been hired to kill each other. Sparring ensues. As they fight, they realize that they actually really love each other and the fighting turns them on and is followed by the ultimate make-up sex. They finally talk about work, what they've been doing, who they've been killing, etc. Sadly, the rest of the world wants them dead. So they must unite against a common enemy.

I think this is where the Dick Flick veers into Chick Flick territory for a moment. During a chase scene, they talk about their relationship in between firing at the bad guys.

The final showdown happens at a home store, a symbol that what they're really fighting for is the same thing that any married couple fights for: hearth and home, stability and companionship. See? They're just like us! There's this really dumb bit of action choreography where they're firing at the bad guys, and are sort of hugging each other as they do so. I guess it's meant to show us their growing love.

The film ends with them back in the marriage counselor's ofice, happy and glowing. Her hair is not pulled back in a tight bun as at the film's start, but frames her face in cascading curls. Her skirt is very short. Pitt's John Smith says, "Ask us the sex question again." To which the therapist stumbles over his words.

So, it all worked out because she was willing to be more feminine and he was willing to be more masculine. Just like in the real world.