JCVD

Reviewed by J. Lunden on May 3, 2009

The acronym refers to Jean-Claude Van Damme. You remember him, the international movie star? He was in John Woo’s first American film, Hard Target. He did that crazy split on the kitchen counter in Time Cop. He faced off against Raul Julia in Street Fighter. C’mon, don’t lie; you liked his movies, too. Well, after a string of mega-hits and then a string of mega-flops, Mr. Van Damme all but disappeared from the screen. I don’t think many have mourned his absence.

Enter JCVD: a reflective, deconstructionist invention that, I must say, is one of the most audaciously clever and oddly endearing works of cinema I’ve seen in some time. Imagine Bloodsport by way of Being John Malkovich. Van Damme plays himself at rock bottom. He’s broke, in the midst of a custody battle and, as Murphy would have it, then stumbles into the middle of a hostage situation. Of course, this (albeit blunt) metaphor functions as a device for Van Damme to place himself, his films and his image on the pyre—and set it alight. It’s an amusing satirical portrait, but also quite a harsh one.

Regardless of how you interpret the film’s intentions, it sheds a peculiar and decidedly new light on the man. It also brilliantly examines the post-action landscape and the “survivors” of the fallout. The film’s opening is a particularly bittersweet example: a shoddy action sequence plays out in one, impressive take and then ends with an overzealous actor ruining the shot. Van Damme pants, exhausted, complaining to his director (who speaks no English) that several of the stunts failed and that he simply cannot keep up this pace. “I’m 45 years old.” The apathetic director—who tosses darts at a photo of the Hollywood sign—responds through his translator. “He still thinks we’re making Citizen Kane.” That’s the whole point, though. Van Damme is fully aware that this isn’t Citizen Kane, and it’s killing him, professionally, financially and personally. And how does a struggling action star lament a life-gone-askew? Why, with a Hamlet-esque soliloquy, mid-film, that I promise will surprise you.

I can’t decide whether I think JCVD is a plea for redemption or reevaluation. One could argue that the film is simply a vanity project, but, of course, all reinventions are, to some extent. Either way, JCVD, while absolutely a novelty experience, is more than just a simple comeback film. This isn’t Stallone rummaging through old standbys in the hopes of familiar resurrection. No, JCVD is, at the very least, a message in a bottle sent from an actor who believes himself to be trapped in an action star’s shell. And, given Van Damme’s startlingly nuanced performance, there might just be something to that.