REVIEW - END OF WATCH

Is End of Watch a gritty, realistic police drama undone by its tendency to settle into crude genre grooves and a distinctly fascistic sensibility? Or is it a conventional thriller elevated by its honest details and scrutiny paid to the tedium and routine of life for two working men in contemporary L.A.? I feel it is the latter, although David Ayer's touch is not deft enough to integrate these elements into his screenplay with any notable subtlety, and it remains undeniably fascistic. Jake Gyllenhaal and Michael Pena, the film's leads, seem in an endless struggle to stunt the insistent theatricality in the script and, thus, sometimes also in their performances; when they succeed, their carefree work becomes an easy in for the viewer, and they do so adequately often that we remain in. Admirable that Ayer doesn't submit to the temptation of laying on the gravitas for so much of this film, then, and our attention is maintained as the film rambles ever on, from one setup to another, with precious little dramatic resolution. The setups may be hokey, but the total portrait of ordinary life for these people is pleasantly portrayed as devoid of the kind of melodrama which characterises a lot of similar films. The sudden shift into such territory towards the end is disappointing in retrospect, although it showcases an excellent combination of directing and editing in the service of enhancing tension that is present more than once in End of Watch. I subsequently found myself impressed by what followed, then disappointed again. Ayer hears the call of the average moviegoer, upon whose interest he has already taken some minor risks, and responds with predictable plotting as ineffective as anything in this only ever moderately-engaging film. Most engaging of all is the consistently reappearing quibble: who's holding the camera now?