A few weeks ago, the Los Angeles Times ran an article about Doug Liman, director of Swingers, Go, The Bourne Identity and now Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Although Liman has had great success in Hollywood, especially with Bourne, the piece essentially says he doesn't know what he's doing as a director, doesn't understand the basic fundamentals of filmmaking, and each of his films has had a strong presence (a producer, writer, second-unit director) to step in and serve as an uncredited co-director, or in some cases, primary director. Liman was barred from directing the Bourne Identity sequel because, the article alleges, the writer and producers refused to work with him again, and he reportedly had enormous tension with both Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, the stars of Mr. & Mrs. Smith, during filming.
If these rumors are true, Liman has once again pulled off the impossible, because Mr. & Mrs. Smith, despite the director's alleged ineptitude, extensive rewrites and reshoots and the ridiculous level of tabloid speculation about the off-screen relationship between Pitt and Jolie, is a supremely entertaining bit of Hollywood fluff. Nonsensical, superficial and occasionally smug, it's also funny, stylish, exciting and sexy (although not too sexy—the main sex scene was edited heavily to achieve a PG-13 rating).
Pitt and Jolie play John and Jane Smith, a suburban New York couple six years into their marriage who have already settled into a stultifying routine and are seeing a therapist (who's always off-screen). That is, until they discover, after a little more setup than is necessary, that they are both professional assassins working for competing companies, and they've both been hired to off the same guy. With the job botched, they set their sights on each other, in the process learning more about their relationship than they did in all those years of marriage.
Even that description is more weighty than the actual plot, and unlike the classic John Cusack black comedy, Grosse Pointe Blank, Smith never takes the pathos of being a killer-for-hire who just wants to be loved even remotely seriously. Instead, it skates by on cheeky double entendres, fast-moving action scenes and the casually sexual chemistry between its two leads. Whatever did or did not happen off-camera, Pitt and Jolie make John and Jane sizzle as both rivals and lovers, and deliver writer Simon Kinberg's often patently silly dialogue with such flair that it comes off sounding like Oscar Wilde.
Liman brings some of the jittery immediacy of The Bourne Identity to the table, but mostly this is a slick and polished affair that doesn't waste too much time on intricate action sequences. There is one impressive car chase with the Smiths in a minivan being pursued by the bad guys, but the running dialogue between the two is almost always more entertaining than the action, and any lengthy pause for chases or gunplay only reminds you of how pedestrian the film is outside of its magnetic stars.
And stars they are for a good reason. Smith is able to harness the power of celebrity to its advantage, rather than being hindered by it as so many star-powered vehicles are. At no time when we are watching John and Jane spar do we forget they are Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and that's not a jab at the pair's acting abilities. Maybe it's just a retroactive effect, but it does seem like Pitt and Jolie are channeling the tabloid rumors, magazine covers and paparazzi shots into their performances; certainly the filmmakers know full well how enjoyable it is simply to watch two incredibly sexy people give each other sultry looks.
At the same time, the stars are no slouches in the acting department, and they display deft touches with both comedy and romance. In lesser hands, this could have been a lumbering, boring action film. But Pitt and Jolie know exactly how much winking to do at the material, and Liman (or whoever supposedly did his job for him this time around) keeps up the balancing act for almost the entire running time. It's only when the plot intrudes and the action goes on for a little too long that you remember there's nothing happening except chiseled abs, pouty lips and some well-delivered, witty repartee.