The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3

Watching "The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3," I felt like that student in Tiananmen Square trying to face down a monster tank, only there's no hope of stopping director Tony Scott's latest jet-fueled juggernaut. Packing a visceral/visual rush, Scott's cinematic bullet train delivers the generic goods. This remake of the 1974 heist-hostage flick won't disappoint folks in search of a slick summer suspenser, but "Pelham" is all go-go-go and no heart.

The original "Pelham" played out in the seedy, decidedly un-PC glamour of a Gotham long since sanitized by Rudy Giuliani & Co. The four bad guys (Mr. Blue, Mr. Grey, et al.) who hijack a subway car full of hostages demand $1 million in ransom (multiplied by 10 in the inflationary remake). The trench-coated crew featured tasty character actors like Robert Shaw ("Jaws"), Martin Balsam ("Psycho") and Hector Elizondo ("Pretty Woman"), whose distinctive mugs and style were the meat of the movie. (No wonder hipster Quentin Tarantino named his "Reservoir Dogs" after the "Pelham" quartet.) And, incarnating the Transit Authority mook forced to negotiate with Shaw's icy Mr. Blue, Walter Matthau -- he of the sad-bloodhound physog -- gave his eternally rumpled, unflappable persona license to play.

The original's grabby plot still fuels the remake, though the story's been pimped out with knee-jerk references to terrorism, Wall Street scam artists and mayoral infidelity, evidence of moral rot that leaves no one, even heroes, unscathed. But don't expect anything like the first film's unabashed pleasure in idiosyncratic personality. Scott's well-oiled movie machine rarely slows down for anything more than skin-deep access to the film's four primary characters, played by John Travolta, Denzel Washington, James Gandolfini, and John Turturro. More than anything else, "Pelham" exists to satisfy the director's addiction to visual gimmickry.

Scott frenetically deploys whip pans and jump cuts, slo-mo and fast-action shots, freeze frames and zooms. Hard to say whether shell-shocked audiences consciously register such wearisome gymnastics anymore, but they are super-distracting in almost every shot in "Pelham." An example: Walter Garber (Washington), subway dispatcher-turned-negotiator, faces us in frame-foreground, trying desperately to talk down Travolta's volatile hostage-taker. Scott should be canny enough (this is his fourth film with Denzel) to go for the gold by homing in on the actor's low-key ability to claim our attention and empathy. But no, our eyes are drawn away from the central action by the flashy slo-mo swirl the director has applied to everything and everyone behind Washington.

It's as though, lacking faith in the fabric of film reality, Scott is driven to compulsively shake and yank at images in hopes they will come alive and mean something.

The sheer physical charisma and contrasting acting styles Travolta and Washington bring to "Pelham" are what anchors this high-speed narrative. As Ryder, head honcho of the subway heist, Travolta essentially alternates between sitting in the subway train's cramped control booth and plunging into the car behind him to press a gun to some hapless hostage's head. Still or in motion, there's a thick heaviness about Ryder, suggesting onetime elegance gone to brutal bulk. Travolta revels in his thuggish guise: modified Fu Manchu, tats, all-black duds, hair-trigger rage. He looks and moves like a latter-day golem.

A kind of unholy spark is struck when Ryder's devilish ex-con describes his underground perch as a confessional and forces Garber to give up -- to save a life -- the ugly truth about why his good name is under such a cloud. But the human connection is one of superficial convenience, generating just enough emotional power to advance the plot to its next station.

Still, when he's given sufficient, visually unjiggered screen time to share an epiphany Ryder once experienced (involving an "a**-model," an Icelandic hangover and a defecating dog) with Garber, Travolta manages to reveal the outlines of a high-rolling sinner you'd like to know more about. Likewise, the requirements of nonstop suspense and narrative momentum run right over any genuine complexity in upright Garber's character and fall from grace. (Washington's extra poundage authenticates Garber's sedentary life, an ordinary's man's flesh sinking from overwork, too many responsibilities, and guilt.)

Turturro, as a veteran hostage negotiator, and Gandolfini, beleaguered mayor ("I left my Rudy Giuliani suit at home"), are terrific in their limited scenes. As for the rest of the cast, they could have been "played" by mannequins. Mostly consigned to standing or sitting around, these undifferentiated souls wait to be knocked off or featured in metronomic reaction shots.

This approach is particularly objectionable in the case of the splendid Luis Guzman ("Traffic," "Boogie Nights," TV's "John From Cincinnati," "Oz"), playing a cough-syrup-guzzling subway driver just out of jail for killing a couple of passengers, and now Ryder's henchman. Guzman's squat, familiar shape is first glimpsed on a subway platform during the insanely kinetic credit sequence, dressed all in black, topped by a distinctive porkpie hat, with a Band-Aid spanning his broad nose, whetting our appetites for more of this scene-stealing veteran. Forget that: Mr. Guzman quickly becomes as stationary and irrelevant as a stump.

Climactic scenes fizzle, despite edgy editing between a runaway train and the hijackers' carefully calibrated escape. For a film that starts off like a Mexican jumping bean, "Pelham" just peters out, nowhere left to go. To savor a heist movie that's got heart and high style, head home and cue up Michael Mann's masterpiece, "Heat."

Also: Washington discusses helping Travolta cope with the loss of his son

Kathleen Murphy currently reviews films for Seattle's Queen Anne News and writes essays on film for Steadycam magazine. A frequent speaker on film, Murphy has contributed numerous essays to magazines (Film Comment, the Village Voice, Film West, Newsweek-Japan), books ("Best American Movie Writing of 1998," "Women and Cinema," "The Myth of the West") and Web sites (Amazon.com, Cinemania.com, Reel.com). Once upon a time, in another life, she wrote speeches for Bill Clinton, Jack Lemmon, Harrison Ford, Joe Pesci, Robert De Niro, Art Garfunkel and Diana Ross.