54307: Bad Boys: Ride or Die

When Paul Reubens and Phil Hartman started writing Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, so the story goes, they had no idea how to structure a feature film. It makes sense, because they were sketch and improv comedians, so to guide their story they turned to the gold standard of scriptwriting: Syd Field, and his seminal book, Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting. They hewed precisely to Field’s page-by-page structure, right down to scene and act breaks falling on specific page numbers. It was so spot-on to the formula that Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure is now taught in many screenwriting courses as the Platonic ideal of a Field screenplay. And as anyone who has seen Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure knows, the formula fucking works. Obviously, it’s not the only way to make a movie, but it’s a reliable chassis to build upon. Sure, in some circles it’s considered gauche to make a “formulaic” movie. But then there are other circles, where people just want to roll around in giant piles of hundred dollar bills.

Both are valid views on filmmaking.

Coca-Cola, algebra, and Bad Boys movies all work because they stick to their respective formulas. And make no mistake: Bad Boys: Ride or Die works. The underlying formula is unchanged: Marcus and Mike are mismatched soul mates who love and lash out at each other like siblings while tearing Miami apart in their quest to defeat a mysterious, cold-blooded nemesis and resolve the surprisingly personal investigation that threatens to either destroy or redeem their friendship. They speed around in Mike’s car, Marcus gets in touch with his emotions, Mike engages in some forgivably unconstitutional police tactics, lots of violence happens in night clubs and other day-glo situations, we get to watch a passenger jet fly over the “Welcome to Miami” sign as it comes in for a landing.

The formula is there, but given that it’s been 29 years since Mike and Marcus’s initial screen adventures, some of the variables have been updated. In a seeming concession to the realities of a post-George Floyd world, we don’t see the detectives playing so fast and loose with civil rights this time out, and I don’t recall hearing a single instance of the N-word. And the movie doesn’t lose anything because of it. This installment also acknowledges that PTSD is a thing, and it makes sense that at least one of them would experience it at some point. But that emotional allowance ultimately doesn’t threaten the Mike/Marcus dynamic that has driven these films to over one billion dollars in worldwide ticket sales. Mike is the unyielding hothead with tunnel vision and a trust fund; Marcus pumps the brakes and keeps trying to retire (which is understandable given he’s been on the force for more than 30 years).

On top of this odd couple dynamic, directors Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah have built a genuinely interesting story. Their love of this franchise is self-evident, and they are still willing to play with its history in pursuit of a bigger picture. On one level, Bad Boys: Ride or Die is about the cycles Mike and Marcus find themselves in, over and over, in these movies. Marcus even acknowledges this in the story, claiming that a near-death experience imbued him with the knowledge that he and Mike have been soul mates in their previous lives, back to time immemorial. It certainly feels like their screen chemistry is eternal, but that may just be a byproduct of the actors’ respective decades in the public eye.

Still, the Bad Boys formula dictates their actions. The years of lore this movie brings to bear, however, heightens the emotional stakes. Mike is married now, he’s got an estranged assassin son; Marcus’s daughter is married, he has a grandchild; both men have died and come back to life. There is a certain “end of the road” feeling to this movie (though I suspect a global opening of $107.4 million will ensure that there is a Bad Boys 5) and the sense that they’ve used up their luck to get here. El Arbi and Fallah do a great job of stacking the odds against Mike and Marcus without ever making things too bleak or overwhelming. There is a recurring motif of lightning, and of storms in general, which keeps eating away at the edges of the story, almost like death circling in on our detectives, closing in on them with the relentless hunger of an albino alligator.

Speaking of death, this movie is more of a meditation on death than the previous three (which were not really meditations at all). We never doubt that Mike or Marcus will live to see the credits roll, but the characters themselves face death more thoughtfully and honestly than before. Perhaps that is a by-product of their ages and the natural slouching of life toward the grave. What we do see, however, is really the first glimmers of understanding and acceptance that this rollercoaster will end at some point, and Mike and Marcus will get off to make room for other passengers. Ultimately, it’s Ride and Die, and beneath the high speed chases, outlandish gun fights, and personal drama, we can see the recognition of mortality cracking through the at-times-toxic veneer of invincible masculinity that has permeated so much of this film series.

If this series continues, I will happily ride along to see where it goes. If not, I think we can all fill in the details of how it ends in our own minds. All we have to do is follow the formula.