It’s right there in the trailer for “Motor City”: “Revenge is louder than words,” splashed over a montage of fists flying, cars crashing and disco dancing. The tagline is a coy nod at the unique nature of the screenplay (and, let’s be honest, gimmick) of “Motor City,” because there aren’t many words at all in this down-and-dirty, 1970s-set revenge thriller starring the brawny Alan Ritchson.
There are a few declarations, whispers, acknowledgments, a single exchange of dialogue, but these characters largely communicate through glances, gestures and glares. The film, directed by Potsy Ponciroli and written by Chad St. John, communicates through excellent — though sometimes heavy-handed — visual storytelling, relying on audience familiarity with the revenge genre.
But this “silent movie” isn’t quiet at all, thanks to the parade of ’70s rock, soul and disco hits that soundtrack the violence and anguish of “Motor City.” From David Bowie to Bill Withers to Fleetwood Mac to Donna Summer to the Moody Blues, taking in “Motor City” is like flipping to a radio station with all the biggest hits of the ’70s.
We meet our hero, John (Ritchson) as he’s tossing a body off a roof and firing a shotgun shell full of pennies and a diamond ring through a windshield, set to Bowie’s “Cat People.” The action of this in medias res opening is a bit too slick for the gritty setting of 1977 Detroit, the violence intriguing but lacking context. We’ll spend the rest of the film filling in that context so that when it loops back around we have the full weight of what led to all this.
John is an industrious factory worker and strapping military vet who just wants to settle down with his diner waitress girlfriend, Sophia (Shailene Woodley). She unfortunately happens to be the ex of a well-connected drug trafficker, Reynolds (Ben Foster), and her hookup with John in the alley outside of a nightclub comes back to haunt them when Reynolds has his revenge, framing John for cocaine possession. Sophia falls back into her old lifestyle, but John eventually has his revenge too in a destructive tit-for-tat with the sadistic drug lord.
Ritchson is an interesting action star who embodies a multifaceted throwback appeal. He has the weathered visage of a 1970s action star with the oversized biceps of one from the ’80s. But in “Motor City,” the wigs wear him, not the other way around. You’re always aware that you’re watching Alan Ritchson, not “John.”
He doesn’t have the character-actor slipperiness of Foster, who deliciously melts into every villainous role. If there’s one thing to sell “Motor City,” it’s Foster, doing his best Detroit disco Tony Montana — and he’s wearing the aviators and leisure suits, they’re not wearing him. He and Pablo Schreiber, as a corrupt cop with a handlebar mustache, are so much fun to watch, and Schreiber gets the best fight of the movie, a particularly bloody battle in an elevator with Ritchson. It’s the realest moment in this otherwise Halloween costume-y movie. Woodley also goes for broke doing her best version of an earthy, working-class Elvira in “Scarface.”
At first, the dialogue-free gambit is kind of a gas. You wonder how long they’ll keep it up and how hard the first line of dialogue will hit. But they play it too long for this to be a truly satisfying story.
Do cool fights and needle drops make an entire movie? That can be debated. Ponciroli has proven his ability with lean and violent thrillers with this film and his debut, “Old Henry,” but “Motor City” feels like a genre filmmaking exercise too hampered by its own self-imposed restrictions.
Motor City
Two and a half stars out of four