R.I.P.D. (review)

By Joe Yezukevich

I was walking through Downtown Boston awhile back and I came to an intersection full of abandoned, junk cars.

It was a creepy discovery to make while walking down what is on any other day a road teeming with cars that have never heard of the Massachusetts’ pedestrian right of way rule.

As I turned the corner onto State Street, facing the historic Old State House, I realized that this is a movie set and, upon further inspection, that the movie being filmed was R.I.P.D. and I become excited.

You need to understand that Boston has only recently become a thriving city for movie making on a major scale.

Sure Boston has been home to classic movies like The Friends of Eddie Coyle, Good Will Hunting, Boondock Saints and The Departed, but there is still that nagging feeling that Boston is the lost urban cousin of New York, Chicago or Los Angeles. So when I find a movie set, I get choked up with home town pride and child-like with excitement that I am witnessing a point in time being put to film for history to discover. Then when I find out that a potential sci-fi blockbuster is being filmed in town, I get spastic.

So, personal stories aside, R.I.P.D. successfully captures Boston’s current cityscape and uses it as the canvas for dizzying CGI that comes off a bit more Wreck-It Ralph than I care for.

The story focuses on Boston detective Nick (Ryan Reynolds) who (spoiler alert) dies within the first 10 minutes of the movie. Rather than face Judgement and potentially wind up in Hell, Nick is recruited to the R.I.P.D., a spectral police force managed by the Eternals. (note: While the Eternals are neither shown nor individually named, I am almost certain they are not the same as the Marvel Comics characters created by Jack “King” Kirby) A stint in the R.I.P.D. lasts 100 years and gives the participant bonus points in his or her favor towards an eternity not taking place in the bad place. In what might be an unconscious nod to secularism, this afterlife is never given a name.

Nick is partnered with Roy (Jeff Bridges, who may now be 100 years old), an 18th century US Marshall who has been around the R.I.P.D. block once or twice. 

They are supervised by the Proctor (Mary-Louise Parker) whose history with Roy is perhaps unprofessional at best. Nick and Roy are sent to Boston to track down and return Deados, dead people who have escaped the line to Judgement and returned to Earth to retry living. While they are tracking Deados, Nick finds evidence that is reminiscent of why he was killed, triggering an investigation with Roy. Hijinks ensue, which include a device to return the dead to Earth, an Elvis inspired Deado, Kevin Bacon and Nick’s widow, who has been led to believe that Nick died a crooked cop.

RIPD does what most comics inspired movies need to do: it pulls the audience into a world that cannot exist and carves its characters into the world that does exist. Where it fails is in the lost opportunities that Boston could provide and in some of the unanswered questions that it leaves the viewer. 

The biggest question I asked was why is there a cowboy stationed in Boston? 

Jeff Bridges, however, is supremely entertaining as Roy and spits out some great lines (“Grab your huevos!”). It is frustrating to see a city’s history unturned in a movie that has the ability to meld 400 years of characters into an entertaining 90 minutes. 

The closest the movie comes to incorporating the city is in Kevin Bacon’s spot on Boston accent. Not too Kennedy and not too (how do you say…) dumb, he is a welcome addition to Charlestown. 

This is, I confess, the ravings of hometown pride.