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From Paris With Love

Critic's Pick Critics' Pick

(No longer in theaters)
  • Rating: R — for strong bloody violence throughout, drug content, pervasive language and brief sexuality
  • Director: Pierre Morel   Cast: John Travolta, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Kasia Smutniak, Richard Durden, Melissa Mars
  • Running Time: 95 minutes
  • Reader Rating: Write a Review




Luc Besson, India Osborne


Lionsgate Films

Release Date

Feb 5, 2010

Release Notes


Official Website


The extreme violence of this week’s releases suggests that larky or tragic, message-y or escapist, things go better with blood. From Paris With Love and District 13: Ultimatum prove the Frenchies have somersaulted over the Chinese in delivering acrobatic action pictures. Their formula is martial arts plus homegrown parkour (or l’art du déplacement), which Wikipedia defines as overcoming “any obstacle within one’s path by adapting one’s movements to the environment”—the environment being, in this case, fire escapes, rooftops, or any setting swarming with men and automatic weapons. Pierre Morel, a former cinematographer and current ace director in the Luc Besson stable, made the first District 13, the rousing Taken, and now the big-budget From Paris With Love, a mismatched-buddy thriller starring John Travolta with a big bald dome and wispy goatee as a gonzo but disciplined American agent, and Jonathan Rhys Myers as his by-the-book pointy-headed sidekick. Unlike most bloated modern action flicks, this is a hair over 90 minutes and goes by even more quickly. In scene after masterly scene, hordes of bad guys turn into blood-spurting pinwheels that hit the ground the instant you manage to breathe out. Exhalations become gasps of amazement.

Morel will inevitably be compared to John Woo, whom he trounces. He has fewer mannerisms (no damn doves) and a keener eye; his fastest, most kinetic shots flow together like frames in a flipbook. When he interrupts that flow for a snatch of slow motion, you see the lyricism of a warrior at full extension or the floppy-limbed contortions of a body flung to its doom. The beefy Travolta isn’t the first actor to spring to mind in connection with lightning reflexes, but he’s souped up and limber, elated by his own Zen prowess, and the choreography is so expert that I never detected the stuntmen substitutions. But Morel’s drollest scene represents the art of taking away. Travolta bursts through a door at the top of a circular staircase while Rhys Myers waits below as one body after another sails or bounces or crunches past him. Merveilleux!

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