‘Destiny is what we make it…’
There are few guarantees in life but a Denzel Washington film from the 90s should be one. Even one of Hollywood’s great leading men can’t turn this piece of shit around however. At times it almost feels as if director Phillip Noyce has purposefully set out to create something terrible. The whole thing is shot through with awful decision making and lacklustre mundanity. Even Denzel looks faintly embarrassed by the whole thing despite a largely committed performance. He would follow up this film with The Hurricane, Remember the Titans and Training Day, presumably as a way to say sorry to the world for being involved in this dumpster fire…
The ridiculously named Lincoln Rhyme (Washington) is a quadriplegic ex-homicide detective who is drawn back to the force to crack one last case (sigh) – a serial killer who abducts his victims in a taxi and then leaves them for dead. For reasons that are never fully explained, Rhyme recruits rookie cop Amelia Donaghy (Angelina Jolie) to help him catch the killer. Also, Queen Latifah is there too because the 90s.
Where to start with this one, the plot makes the terminal mistake of somehow being convoluted, tedious and predictable. The dialogue is almost unspeakably awful (‘Merry Christmas’). Washington tries his level best with the absolute dross he has been given but it isn’t enough to save what is a truly execrable piece of work. Jolie sleepwalks through her role. Luis Guzman plays Luis Guzman admirably but never really fits the grimy, post Se7en aesthetic that Noyce is going for. The whole thing just feels lazy and cliched and the ending is preposterous, but not in a fun way.
It feels like this brand of neo noir, dark thriller were ten a penny in the 90s and a lot of them were pretty watchable. The Bone Collector is not one of them. The thought of anyone being ‘thrilled’ by this shit is unthinkable. I wish that someone had collected my bones and moved them to a place where The Bone Collector wasn’t on the television. A film that doesn’t even deserve the dignity of being forgotten.
I genuinely wish that The Bone Collector didn’t exist. I’m sure Denzel feels the same way.