Battle In Seattle

Director: Stuart Townsend

Review by Roberto Azula

Overwrought and hamstrung by clichés, Stuart Townsend’s Battle of Seattle is a very stupid but very sincere valentine to the city of Seattle. I’ll be the first to admit it; I was caught up by the energy of the opening night crowd, a raucous theater specifically there to cheer on the Emerald City. I mean, it was a flippin’ football stadium in there. When Broadway and Pike make an appearance on the silver screen, I hooted and hollered with the rest of the Capitol Hill denizens. And there is nothing more satisfying than watching the little guys righteously sticking it to The Man, especially in the streets of Seattle (though the film was mostly shot in Vancouver). Right on!

But after the fuzzy glow of commemorating Seattle’s Finest Hour wore off, the killjoy movie critic in me splashed some flat Hale’s Ale in my face and set me straight. As much as I want to like this dramatization of the 1999 WTO protests, I’m sorry to report that Battle in Seattle is your run of the mill, horribly contrived underdog movie so full of formulaic dialog that you could practically watch this film in mute and still know what everyone is saying. You get your meet-cutes: the rebellious girl with a chip on a shoulder and something to prove (the perpetually surly and tiresome Michelle Rodriguez), coupled with the soulful rebel with the traumatic past (the perpetually bland and tiresome Martin Henderson). They write phone numbers on each other’s forearms, for heaven’s sake. Who beyond junior high school students does that anymore? I mean, if you’re in for three days of hurly burly protesting, it’s a good bet that phone number will sweat off. Charlize Theron is particularly embarrassing as the TV news correspondent who is ALWAYS there to witness key moments in the script, and changes from jaded journalist to Someone Who Cares. Yeah, right. The cops are all goons, and from what I hear tell, that was mostly the case on those fateful days. Still, jabbing a nightstick into a pregnant woman’s belly? I suppose Townsend can be excused for a bit of melodrama, but that was a little too Marvel Comics for my taste.

But here comes the most shocking part of this review. I’m actually going to recommend this film. But why? It has by-the-numbers dialog, enough contrivances to stock an entire season of Plot Convenience Playhouse, and manages to make Zimbabwe look good. No, I’m not kidding. One of the heroic figures in this film is the WTO representative for Zimbabwe who makes an angry speech against colonialism. Did anyone bother to do any research, or are we to conclude that all African countries are the same with their colorful flags and accents?

So, why go see Battle in Seattle?

Reason Number One: If you’re a Seattleite, uptight or no, this is one sloppy kiss you’re going to love. The street protests are dramatic and exciting, and when the WTO conference finally does get shut down, it’s like watching the Death Star blow up. It’s that awesome.

Reason Number Two: Ray Liotta can always be counted on to play the Asshole In Charge in any movie. And man, he delivers the goods in this one. As the angry, utterly in-over-his head Mayor Jim Tobin, Liotta clocks in a controlled-rage performance so pitch perfect that I started rooting for him and getting pissed off at all those dirty hippies making Seattle look bad. Liotta ought to run for office in this town, I’m serious.

Reason Number Three: This movie is made for drinking games. Drink every time His Honor loses his temper. Drink with every beat of a repetitive street protest chant. Drink every time the cops fire tear gas or club someone. Drink every time you see a street you walk every day (a good way to get your Canadian friends trashed). Tequila shots when the action moves to Capitol Hill.

Reason Number Four: This film’s formulaic, melodramatic structure is actually an asset. Most people outside the Northwest have no idea the 1999 WTO protests even happened, and this film can bring to life an important historic moment in a way Joe Red State Sixpack can understand.

To that end, I heartily agree with protestor Django’s (Andre Benjamin aka Andre 3000) final assessment of the protests: “Before, no one knew what the WTO was. Now … well, they still don’t know what it is, but they know it’s bad!” And if this cheeseball, Showgirls in flannel flick can accomplish that, then I’m all for it. Right on!