Bad cop, no donut |

Bad cop, no donut

Nickey Hernandez

Harrison Ford and summer blockbuster go together like Don Rumsfeld and massive aerial bombardment.But Ford’s gold-plated filmography is tarnished, thanks to “Hollywood Homicide,” a clich-ridden buddy flick that lacks humor, interest and common sense.”Hollywood Homicide” is among the worst of what appears to be a summer of mindless trash. This movie is supposed to come off as a fun cop drama ala “48 Hours,” which catapulted Eddie Murphy to cinematic fame.Unfortunately, “Hollywood Homicide” reads like something penned by a drunken focus group.You will find every worn-out clich about Los Angeles in this film. Jokes about vegetarians, psychic radio talk show hosts, cell phones and yoga dominate the scene. None are funny. Yet all are beaten to death like helpless harp seals.The story of “Hollywood Homicide” centers on two LAPD homicide cops named Joe (Ford) and K.C. (Josh Hartnett). Joe’s a cheeseburger-chewing, thrice-divorced, financial loser with a nose for solving crime. K.C. is a junior dick, who can’t shoot straight. K.C moonlights as a yoga instructor to the most beautiful women in Los Angeles and dreams of being the next Brando.You can almost see how a drunken focus group might find this brilliant. I mean, what’s funnier than a cop who studies tantric sex and runs a yoga studio?Never mind that the average cop considers “chakra treatments” an arrest technique involving taser guns and a compliant suspect’s genitals.Joe, meanwhile, has troubles of his own. He’s a real estate agent on the side. As such, it’s common for Joe to engage in a fierce gun battle with bad guys, while negotiating a house deal on his cell phone.Again, this might seem funny at first blush, but the joke is repeated 20 times in this film.Somehow these two cops come together to solve an equally ridiculous mass murder at a trendy hip-hop club. A P Diddy look-a-like is the brains behind the killings. The facts behind the murder are glossed over in five seconds, which allows plenty of time for yoga/cell phone/real estate jokes.Absurd plot twists continue when an Internal Affairs hard-ass tries to link Joe and K.C. to a prostitution ring. The foolishness builds when we learn the Internal Affairs A-Hole may have killed K.C’s cop father years before. Oh yeah, Joe is also sleeping with the I.A. man’s ex lover, a psychic radio host played by Lena Olin.Olin provides excellent eye and also uses her “psychic powers” to locate the P Diddy clone just in time for the final car chase.The 20-minute chase takes up the film’s entire third act. Again, clichs rule the moment. Cop cars flip, fly then explode, tires screech, pedestrian scramble for cover and the entire chase ends in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater.I’m still confused why Ford, an actor I greatly admire, put himself in this mess. For now I blame his current squeeze, Calista Flockhart.I suspect the sexy stick figure formerly known as Ally Mcbeal is taking care of business between sheets. As such, the blood that normally fuels Ford’s acute brain is on permanent hiatus in his loins. How else to explain the earring Ford fancies, his ghostly white appearance at the Academy Awards, and his involvement in “Hollywood Homicide?”Until next time, Mr. Hernandez has left the theater to practice tantric sex with Sting’s wife.

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