Helmed by Unknown and Non-Stop director Jaume Collet-Serra, the opening act of Run All Night seems to deliberately push against type. “This isn’t like my two other Liam Neeson-starring action flicks!” it screams. “Nor is it like those three other Liam-Neeson starring action flicks, Taken, that started this whole business!”. No, in Collet-Serra’s middling film, Neeson isn’t a slick, fearsome killing machine; he’s a flatulent alcoholic loser two decades past his intimidating peak, now forced to beg favours and don Santa costumes to keep in good stead with Brooklyn’s mafia.
But of course Neeson’s son (Joel Kinnaman) unwittingly witnesses a hit and becomes a target, forcing Neeson to regain his mojo, break out his trigger finger and turn enemy against old partner-in-crime and local crime ruler, Ed Harris.
Running on machismo and middle-aged hero worship, Collet-Serra delights in making Neeson transform from pitiful slob into unstoppable fighting machine, eviscerating corrupt cops and petty thugs in effectively bloody strokes. The director enjoys visual excess, swooping and zooming around Brooklyn in Baz Luhrmann fashion, and coating forests, cities and tense car conversations in a heavy mist (though that may simply be the macho Neeson’s aftershave).
Run All Night’s action sequences are reasonably well executed (pardon the pun), and make good use of public spaces, with chases and scraps taking place in train stations, crowded football stadium crowds and high-rise apartment blocks.
However, thanks to its one-dimensional characters and numbingly familiar story, Run All Night ultimately proves to be an outright dud.