America gets a Die Hard-on
By Katie Wynne

Bruce Willis once rode down Pine Avenue on a stallion. At the age of seven he built a 10-story doghouse for his golden retriever, Freedom. One Christmas he cut down a cherry tree in his neighborhood—and turned himself in two days later.

Actually none of that is true. But watching Willis onscreen makes you think . . . he’d look great on a stallion.

Earlier this month I purchased a red, white, and blue sequined body suit, a miniature American flag, and the Die Hard trilogy on DVD in preparation for my upcoming decision to either Live Free or Die Hard. Donning my spangled outfit, I proudly took my seat in the theater and gazed upon this nation’s savior, John McClane, as he stampeded along the East Coast, saving America from certain technological doom.

If fanatical Germans with enormous explosives and renegade army generals with a task force of assassins couldn’t stop McClane, you have to question what was going through the fictional mind of Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant), a meager computer hacker. With plans to point out America’s vulnerability, Gabriel’s “fire sale” scheme (hacking into every major government organization’s database, forcing the country to cry “uncle!”) couldn’t hold a candle to the cool charm of the saga’s infamous NYPD cop.

And yet watching the spectacle of computer hackers getting pulverized and henchman earning their wings the old-fashioned way (falling out of destroyed aircraft), I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with my hero. Was he sick? No. Willis could have been replaced with Vin Diesel and I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference; he looks like a train masquerading as a man. He is unstoppable. So what was the problem? Why was his character falling so flat?

Slapped in the face with a vicious PG-13 rating, Live Free never had the chance of being in the same realm of greatness as its predecessors. The first three films boast an excess of obscenity and blood, and they set the standard. Now, audiences have come to expect the random sailors sitting next to them to blush while listening to Willis validate his extraordinary demolitions with atrocious language and dirty jokes. When these expectations are not met, the man who once walked across glass barefoot spouting crass soliloquies of exhaustion and humility fades into an impersonal character possessed by some unknown force to stop looming national disaster—and drop every bomb but the F-bomb.

While the writing fell short of brilliant, visually the movie redeemed itself. Showing majestic aerial views of mass vehicular manslaughter (due to Gabriel’s reprogramming), the movie serves up a 20-course meal of mayhem and adrenaline. Director Len Wiseman, whose only other movies are the Underworld films, was able to make the entire East Coast his setting. He leaves no stone un-blown-up and no citizen feeling safe, and he uses that landscape and all its standing buildings to his fullest advantage. (However, how McClane can travel to New York, West Virginia, Maryland, and Washington DC within a 24-hour period I haven’t quite nailed down yet. I guess he is also a hobby racecar driver. I’d believe it.)

The most impressive addition to the Die Hard saga can be found in Justin Long’s performance as the innocent Matt Farrell. McClane is paired with the helpless youth after his long history of veteran cops and racially-concerned pawnshop owners. Long’s refreshing humor and his awe for McClane’s bravery and knack for survival make him completely loveable (“Why are you so calm? Have you done that kind of stuff before?”). While some may complain about the absence of a Mac-versus-PC joke, the chemistry between Long and Willis is a fair trade. The two of them were able to make the old and new generations come together in a tag-team assault on virtual terrorism.

Rising up from my seat, now covered with loose sequins and patriotism, I couldn’t help but feel satisfied. Live Free had all the necessary elements of a great action film: one hero, one villain, one country under attack, and one moment of ultimate sacrifice. Lowering my mini-flag to half-mast to honor the credits, I left feeling American and sure that—doghouse or no—that Pine Avenue ride was real.

LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD DIR. LEN WISEMAN | RATED PG-13 | AT THEATERS EVERYWHERE