Redbelt: Critic Reviews

That thing Mamet does he does again with feverish effing commitment in Redbelt, his effing Rocky.

Redbelt, is a satisfying, unexpectedly involving B-movie that owes as much to old Hollywood as to Greek tragedy.

Ejiofor remains a supremely assured, charismatic presence, though he has his work cut out here. He is pitted against a film with a black belt in pomposity and a gold medal in preening self-regard.

Anchored by a powerful and nuanced performance by Chiwetel Ejiofor, Mamet's latest writing and directing effort is a compelling drama about the world of martial arts fighting.

What is memorable is the film's portrait of a man of honor in a sleazy world, possibly a metaphor for the struggle of the artist to stay honorable in a world of backbiting, betrayal and hunger for easy money.

While Redbelt may be a character study in search of a movie, that character feels fresh and real.

With his 10th feature -- an entertaining tale of high-stakes martial arts -- Mamet has infused the sleight of hand with a measure of two-fisted action.

This does seem to be a world Mamet knows well, and every so often we see flashes of the great movie he might have made.

Mr. Ejiofor gives a commanding performance, perfectly calibrated in what's withheld just as much as what's revealed.

So how's the Mamet Rocky? Fast. Lively. In your face. Very watchable. And, like its predecessors, so bizarrely convoluted it barely holds together on a narrative level.

So gifted is Mamet as a writer and director that he can fascinate us even when he's pulling rabbits out of an empty hat.

Like everything Mamet touches, whether predominantly comic or dramatic, this stern cautionary tale concerns whom we can trust (ourselves, if we live by a few simple, honorable rules of conduct) and whom we cannot (others, especially if they're in the film

A sour little 70s-style David Mamet play about the lies, calculations, and ice-cold politics of Hollywood.

Redbelt's ultimate Ultimate Fight moment feels sorely lacking.

Redbelt ranks as one of Mamet's lesser efforts as writer and director.

Incompetently made and covered in corn, this is a martial arts movie that makes you yearn for The Karate Kid. Yes, that movie was corny, as well, but at least it was fun. Redbelt isn't fun, just laughable.

Before it sort of punches itself out in the final few minutes, it's a surprisingly compelling story about honor and betrayal.

In the story of a purist-minded jiu-jitsu instructor trying to keep his distance from the vulgar commercialism of arena-style martial arts competition, David Mamet may have found the ideal metaphor for his own relationship with mainstream Hollywood.

This isn't Mamet at his finest, though, which leaves us with a script that is merely three times as smart as the average feature.

Ejiofor, a marvelously focused actor whose range and intensity are given a faintly inscrutable edge here, holds the center of the screen.

The glue that holds it together is Ejiofor's muscular performance as a man whose principles may be about to feel the brass knuckles of reality.

Teeters precariously between Mamet's typically noirish realm and the kick-ass commercial galaxy, looking not quite at home in either.

It's neither uninteresting nor unentertaining, but the plot is as threadbare as an old carpet and Mamet's narrative contortions will leave many viewers scratching their heads.

Mamet takes up jiu-jitsu with honorable results.

The final moment, which was probably intended to be poignant, instead feels laughable.