Newly minted action hero Liam Neeson chomps on a cigar and plenty of scenery as Hannibal, the alpha-male leader of the A-Team, a quartet of Army over-achievers who go on the lam after a daring Iraq mission goes awry and they’re framed for a crime they didn’t commit. Bradley Cooper flashes a ubiquitous smirk as Face, the preening, narcissistic lothario of the group, while District 9 standout Sharlto Copley outmugs Neeson as the team’s lunatic pilot Murdock, and UFC fighter Quinton “Rampage” Jackson is burdened with the thankless task of impersonating Mr. T in his signature role as B.A. Baracus.
Smoking Aces director Joe Carnahan and his co-screenwriters, Brian Bloom and Skip Woods, litter the film with constant crowd-pleasing references to the most remembered, iconic elements of the original ’80s TV show; if audience members were to take a shot every time Jackson pities a fool or expresses reservations about air travel, or Neeson expresses his supreme satisfaction with a scheme being successfully executed, they’d pass out within the first half-hour. It’d be tempting to say The A-Team reduces its leads to glib cartoon characters, but the characters were already macho caricatures in their television incarnation. The A-Team merely soups up Stephen J. Cannell’s campy action hit with expensive production values and lots of shit blowing up good. The film’s featherweight tone and self-conscious excess would be a lot more palatable if everyone didn’t seem so insufferably pleased with themselves. The film acts as if it’s won the race before the starting gun has even been fired.
