Let's face the simple truth: you will be hard pressed to find someone who likes the insurance industry. It's a double-edged sword, however. We couldn't live without them, no matter how much we may hate it. Shelling out premiums from every single paycheck, only to still be required to come up with money to cover medical procedures. It's a pain in the ass and we all hate it. So it was only a matter of time before Hollywood came out with a film to capitalize on that hatred and resentment. And here it is in the form of John Q.

Unfortunately, John Q is not only a bad film, it's a misguided film. Taking a firm stance against HMOs, John Q demands that America come up with a better solution. My own suggestion would be to take the money used to fund this film and send it out to all those who will need mental insurance coverage for watching it. After viewing this movie, I came out conflicted: I hate HMOs as much as the next person, but I hated this movie even more. It presents the material in such a one-sided and manipulative way, I almost feel my brain has split a personality. One part wants me to laud the film with praise for attacking an evil industry; the other, more rational part wants me to shred the film for taking the easy way out.

John Q begins with a BMW swerving and passing cars on a lonely highway. Needless to say, this car crashes, killing its driver. If you've seen the trailers, you know exactly why this scene is here (John Q's son needs a heart, a woman just died with a fine heart, you do the math). We are then introduced to John Q. Archibald (Denzel Washington), your average blue collar worker. His supportive wife Denise (Kimberly Elise) and their only son Mike (Daniel E. Smith) play silly games on the way to school--see how normal these people are? The only thing missing is a good church scene. Oh, nevermind, they included that too. This, of course, all leads to tragedy during a little league game. Mike, stealing second base, clutches his chest and drops motionless to the ground.

Turns out Mike's heart is three sizes too large (someone call Dr. Seuss, stat!). Without a transplant, he will die. We are told this by the hospital administrator Rebecca Payne (Anne Heche) and the cardiologist Dr. Turner (James Woods). It's at this point you realize the callousness of the filmmakers. Portraying the administrator and physician as villains, they sit coldly emotionless as John and Denise cry over the predicament. There is no insurance, and the procedure will cost $250,000. These two "villains" are never afforded the thought that perhaps they see this same scene played out so often, they are beyond emotion. Of course, without them, we wouldn't have the satisfying emotional arc for when they both instantly become human again.

John, trying desperately to raise the money to no avail, must take drastic measures, taking the emergency room of the hospital hostage. With a strangely colorful assortment of characters, John soon starts a debate with Dr. Turner. The police surround the ER, lead by Frank Grimes (Robert Duvall), chief hostage negotiator. John doesn't take well to Grimes' attitude, and soon threatens the lives of his hostages. Either his son gets a new heart, or he starts killing hostages (the logic of that still doesn't make much sense).

John Q tries so hard to make you weep, cueing the orchestra at just the right moments. Sadly, when the music swelled, so did the bile in my stomach. First-time screenwriter James Kearns is primarily to blame for this travesty. The plot alone plods along at an insipid pace, you may find yourself hoping the sniper shoots him just so it ends. As if that weren't enough, Kearns' dialogue is some of the absolute worst I've ever heard in a major motion picture. Stilted, corny, and stupid, even the talented Washington can't help it. Just thinking about the screenplay makes me so angry I find myself having trouble coming up with descriptions. How a piece of garbage like this could get made is beyond me.

Nick Cassavetes doesn't help the matter either. With his rancid directing (his last film was the equally awful She's So Lovely), the film plays out artificially. You never really believe for a moment Mike will succumb to his heart condition, despite that his systolic blood pressure drops below 80 (this device almost served as a heart-induced countdown--thankfully, it is forgotten quickly). Portraying a completely one-sided issue, we are forced into cheering for John. This sort of manipulative filmmaking is quick to turn me off. You hear the arguments for why the medical industry is evil, and yet it's a direct result of America. It's based around capitalism. During the final few minutes, small news reports sum up the events. One commentator makes the only valid and rational argument in the film, stating it is our fault the medical industry is the way it is. We want better coverage, but we don't want to pay for it. Sad this moment came so late in the film.

Poor Denzel. After getting an Oscar nomination for his (vastly overrated) turn in Training Day, he gets sapped with this God-awful role. Of course, we shouldn't feel too sorry for him, since he did choose it. Even the strongest of actors couldn't get this material to work. The only real moments of acting come from Kimberly Elise as his wife. Ray Liotta is handed the annoying task of being the harsh, uncaring police chief. In any other hostage film, he'd be the hero, and we'd be cheering him on to take out the hostage taker. But here, not a chance. He's the villain. Robert Duvall seems to be sleep-walking his way through his role, while Anne Heche tries desperately to bring humanity to her inhumane character. Even the usually reliable Woods can't wade through the crap he's given.

The film ends on a cheap note, with the police arresting the wrong man (I almost bolted for the exits, but figured it was almost over anyway). This doesn't come as a surprise, and it shouldn't be treated as one. I am not spoiling anything, because the filmmakers are so bad at setting up this "false" ending, it's really quite pointless. We get to witness a very graphic operating scene (how this film managed a PG-13 rating is beyond me), and not only that, the doctor actually taps the heart to make it start beating. It's one of those ludicrous moments that, if happened in real life, you might punch out the doctor. Ah, but Cassavetes isn't finished. He even includes a short glimpse of recently deceased Ted Demme, the director of much better movies than this one. Why the clip is in the film is beyond me, as it serves no purpose whatsoever, but it did remind me of how crappy Nick Cassavetes is as a filmmaker.

John Q is rated PG-13 for violence, language and intense thematic elements. To put it simply, and taking a cue from Roger Ebert, I hated, hated, hated, hated, hated this movie. I hated every single moment of it. It was a false, manipulative sapfest that wants to get its audience riled up over a subject people already are riled up over. The music is bad (including some weird vocalizations that can not be explained), the direction is worse, and the script is bottom-of-the-barrel garbage. Talented screenwriters lurk on the outskirts of Hollywood, desperate for a chance to get a film produced. Instead, we get this. The state of HMOs concerns me, but for now, that Hollywood actually let this film be made, the state of Hollywood is just as bad. Shame on you.

Rating: out of

© 2002 Boyd Petrie