The A-Team: "The Children of Jamestown"

During the original NBC run of The A-Team (1983 - 1986), my father had a word he used to describe the Stephen J. Cannell, Frank Lupo series:

Diverting.

Now, diverting can mean "entertaining" or "amusing," but it can also mean to "turn aside" or "distract from a serious occupation."

In the case of The A-Team, my Dad probably meant all of the above.

The A-Team is a vintage action series of unmatched cartoon violence, colorful but superficial characters, outrageous stunts...and not much narrative or thematic depth. But taken on those very limited terms, The A-Team truly and fully "diverts."

What does this mean, exactly? Well, even today, you can't take your eyes off the bloody thing.

Oh, there are significant causes to complain, I suppose, if that's your stock and trade. Nobody on the show ever dies or is badly wounded...even in the most horrific car crash or gun-fight.

And women? They are pretty much utilized as set decoration.

How about realism? Well, let's just say that any TV series featuring John Saxon as a drugged-out religious cult leader probably isn't aiming strictly for realism.

But again, you either take a series like this on its own terms, or you don't take it at all. Your rational, logical mind may complain or rebel about some very important aspects of the narratives, plot resolutions and yeah, physics. 

Yet after watching an A-Team episode you may nonetheless find yourself smiling almost uncontrollably. There's a joie-de-vivre about the players on this classic TV program, and it acts like a giant black hole...sucking you in, even if you put up resistance.

The A-Team, which aired for 98 hour-long episodes, follows a group of Vietnam veterans hunted by the U.S. military. Renegades and modern-day cowboys, these team members now serve as on-the-run mercenaries.

So, as the series' opening narration reminds viewers -- at least before staccato machine-gun fire kicks in -- "if you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... The A-Team."

Team members include leader John "Hannibal" Smith (George Peppard), whose catchphrase is "I love it when a plan comes together," charming con man Lt. Templeton "Face" Peck (Dirk Benedict), crazy helicopter pilot "Howling Mad" Murdock (Dwight Schultz) and perpetually-cranky mechanic/driver B.A. (Bad Attitude) Baracus, played by Mr. T. Melina Culea portrays reporter Amy Allen in the early seasons of the series.

The first season A-Team episode "Children of Jamestown" is a perfect representation of the series' aesthetic. It begins in mid-mission (and in relatively tense fashion, I was surprised to see...) with the team attempting the rescue of a rich girl from the clutches of Martin James (Saxon), a sun-glass wearing, religious cult leader. The freed girl is delivered safely to her wealthy father, but Face, B.A., Hannibal and Amy are captured and taken to the Jamestown compound for "judgment."

There, the A-Team is granted an audience before James, who pretentiously recites a poem to them. Hannibal recites a poem in kind: "Hickory, Dickory, Dock..." he begins.

Outraged, James orders his machine-gun armed acolytes -- hulking muscle men in brown monks robes -- to free the prisoners and then hunt them down. In a convoy of surplus Army jeeps that the compound conveniently maintains

So, it's The Most Dangerous Game at Jonestown...

Now, right here, an engaged (and sober) viewer will start asking some pertinent questions. Why do these macho, grim acolytes feel it necessary to wear monk robes? 

More trenchantly, what do they get by serving the egotistical and difficult (and clearly bonkers) James? Why did they join the order? 

Furthermore, why all the jeeps and machine guns at a religious commune? What is the religious foundation for this order that it can incorporate both monks robes and heavy artillery?

But okay, the A-Team requires an army to fight every week, and in this episode, we get an army plus a wacky cult leader. It might not make strict sense, but there you have it.

So the A-Team escapes to a nearby farm, where a farmer and his gorgeous daughter live in fear of the cult and the cult leader. The family helps the team out, and Face has a little romance with the farmer's daughter, unaware, apparently, that the "farmer's daughter" scenario is the set-up of too many dirty jokes to count.

But hey! This is no ordinary farmer, let me tell you. He also happens to be an artist who sculpts metal in his spare time. His back yard thus resembles an auto junk yard. In short order, Hannibal, B.A., Amy and Face construct a flame-thrower turret on top of a commandeered jeep. Then, using a hot water heater and acetylene tanks, they build a missile launcher.

Then they take the battle right to James, who is leading his jeep convoy against the uncooperative farmer.

I love it when a plan comes together. Don't you?

I've watched several seasons of Mission: Impossible (1966-1973) recently, and was very, very impressed. Every single week, that series played matters absolutely straight, with a real, sincere attempt to seem realistic...even with strange gadgets, face-masks, and complicated plots in the mix. 

In other words, Mission: Impossible crafted a larger sense of "truth" around its stories, settings and characters. And the suspense was almost universally intense.

The A-Team, by contrast, plays nothing straight. It's a knowing put-up job from start-to-finish. 

For instance, this episode doesn't look seriously at cults, or at cult leaders. It doesn't examine the reasons why a farmer in the middle of nowhere would also have a machine shop. Nor does the narrative see the main characters -- except for Amy -- break a sweat. Instead, the narrative is but a hook for the action scenes and a lot of admittedly funny jokes.

What holds "this plan" together, in simple terms is the grace of the performers, and the unfettered sense of violent fun. Again, I can't argue that The A-Team is socially valuable stuff, only that -- as my Dad stated so memorably on a Tuesday night long, long ago -- it "diverts."

The A-Team hangs a lot on the chemistry between the actors. So it's a good thing they're such an agreeable bunch. Watching Face describe "the jazz," or having Hannibal get mad over the fact that James has taken his prized boots may not sound like scintillating television, but somehow -- with these guys, with these jokers, -- that's exactly what it is.

"Children of Jamestown" attempts, at one point, to wax serious, with Baracus telling Amy that the only to get through a situation like this is to "accept death." 

Why? Because it "frees you."

And the playful attitude of the A-Team TV series, I suppose, "frees you" too. After an especially hard day's work, the knowing silliness of this show is oddly infectious.

Pop Art: The A-Team Comic Book (Marvel Edition)

The A-Team: Shrinky Dinks

Modek Kit of the Week: The A-Team Van (AMT-ERTL)

Lunchbox of the Week: The A-Team

Trading Card of the Week: The A-Team (Topps; 1983)

Game Board of the Week: The A-Team

Theme Song of the Week: The A-Team (1983 - 1987)

CULT MOVIE REVIEW: The A-Team (2010)

Let's start this review with a useful analogy. 

The 2010 A-Team movie is to the original A-Team television series as the 2009 Star Trek movie was to the original Star Trek series. 

In other words, the A-Team movie is a thorough and dedicated 21st century updating and re-vamping of the familiar franchise with re-cast central roles, but also with -- globally speaking-- an abundant sense of faith and love regarding its television origins and heritage.

In fact, the A-Team movie commences with precisely the right tone of appreciation and nostalgia. 

In a garage in Mexico, B.A. Baracus (Quinton Jackson) reunites with his beloved 1983 GMC Vandura Van -- an enduring trademark of the original TV series -- and notes, simply, "It's been too long.  Way too long..."

Indeed it has.

 For fans of the A-Team who have missed the popular action series since it was canceled by NBC in the late 1980s, this sentimental touch -- which occurs almost immediately before the van gets unceremoniously crushed in an action scene -- is actually a  love letter of sorts; an acknowledgement of mutually-shared appreciation of that which came before, and which is still honored here.

These are the words I wrote last year, in regards to the original A-Team television series:

"During the original NBC run of The A-Team (1983 - 1987), my father had a word he used to describe the Stephen J. Cannell, Frank Lupo series:

Diverting.

Now, diverting can mean "entertaining" or "amusing," but it can also mean to "turn aside" or "distract from a serious occupation."

In the case of The A-Team, my Dad probably meant all of the above.

The A-Team is a vintage action series of unmatched cartoon violence, colorful but superficial characters, outrageous stunts...and not much narrative or thematic depth to speak of.

But taken on those very limited terms, The A-Team truly and fully "diverts."

What does this mean, exactly? Well, even today, you can't take your eyes off the bloody thing.

Oh, there are significant causes to complain, I suppose, if that's your stock and trade. Nobody on the show ever dies or is badly wounded...even in the most horrific car crash or gun-fight.

And women? They are pretty much utilized as set decoration.

How about realism? Well, let's just say that any TV series featuring John Saxon as a drugged-out religious cult leader probably isn't aiming strictly for realism.

But again, you either take a series like this on its own terms, or you don't take it at all. Your rational, logical mind may complain or rebel about some very important aspects of storyline, plot resolution and yeah, physics, but after watching an A-Team episode you may nonetheless find yourself smiling almost uncontrollably.

There's a joie-de-vivre about the players on this classic TV program, and it acts like a giant black hole...sucking you in, even if you put up resistance."

I might as well have been writing those words about this movie of 2010 vintage. 

Without putting too fine a point on it, director Joe Carnahan's (Narc [2002]) film is pretty much exactly the same thing as my description of the TV series above, save for a slightly less two-dimensional role for the lead female, here Jessica Biel's Captain Sosa. 

Otherwise, you've got the same style of cartoon violence, the same colorful characters, some tremendous stunts, and an overwhelming sense of fun and esprit de corps..   

Are the Laws of Physics violated in the much-complained about falling tank sequence? 

Yes, abundantly so. 

But if you're going to dismiss this particularly movie because of that specific scene, you should be prepared to dismiss as well Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) because of its inflatable raft-as-parachute scene, and Goldeneye (1995) too, for the most Physics-busting shot in James Bond film history: Pierce Brosnan diving after a falling plane in the prologue, catching up to it, climbing in, and flying it out of its death spin.

So yes, there is plenty to nitpick, deride or assail here, particularly if you are seeking a realistic and believable action-thriller.

But if you choose that route; you should at least acknowledge that you are reviewing the movie you wanted to see; and not an A-Team movie. 

Indeed, the film's winking dialogue -- as penned by Carnahan, Brian Bloom and Skip Woods -- understands immediately the particular universe of this "crack commando team." 

"The A-Team," declares Sosa "specializes in the ridiculous."

I really can't put it much better than that. 

This movie -- like the TV series on which it was based -- specializes in the ridiculous.  You either go with the ridiculousness and get a kick out of the intentional over-the-top nature of it, or you won't enjoy the movie a lick.

The original series was always a low-brow, good-humored variation on Bruce Gellar's Mission: Impossible, and the 2010 movie understands that too. 

Face (Dirk Benedict) was the charmer of the group; Murdock (Dwight Shultz) the pilot; Hannibal (George Peppard) the irrepressible leader, and B.A. (Mr. T) the mechanic.  Together they would combine their skills to save innocent people, all while concocting ridiculous plans like, say, building flame throwers out of hot water heaters and washing machines.  The stories were clearly not as tightly plotted or elaborately constructed as those on Mission:Impossible, but this fact gave The A-Team writers room to let the characters banter and do their funny shtick

That shtick is still famous today. 

Hannibal crunching a cigar and optimistically -- eternally -- noting that he "loves it when a plan comes together." 

Murdock's insane act; a useful insane act which always distracts the enemy at just the right time. 

And then there's Face's sense of vanity and his way with all the ladies. 

And finally there's Bad Attitude Baracus, who really, really, really hates to fly...and must be tricked, cajoled and sedated to fly Murdock's friendly skies.

The movie revives each and every one of these beloved, extremely silly character gimmicks and touchstones, and in the process, provides audiences the origin story of the A-Team. 

The team is framed for a "crime it did not commit," in this case the theft of counterfeit engraver plates in Operation Desert Freedom.  The bad guys are Black Forest mercenaries (think Blackwater) who frame the Team and steal the plates for themselves.  A CIA guy named Lynch (another name you should recognize from the series...) is another heavy, and Patrick Wilson has a ball with the role.

After breaking out of prison, Hannibal (Liam Neeson) must free his friends and concoct a plan to get the engraver plates back, a plan that will --naturally -- involve lots of violence and death-defying stunts.

And on this last front, the movie A-Team -- with a whopping 100 million dollar budget at its command -- offers the goods in the way that a weekly TV series made in the 1980s simply could not afford. 

About mid-way through the film, Carnahan stages a stunning heist sequence at a skyscraper in Frankfurt, with the A Team -- and its opponents too -- plummeting down dozens of stories...all while firing machine guns and launching missiles.

Even truer to the aesthetic of the original series is the film's first major action sequence, which sees the A-Team hijacking a moving convoy in Baghdad to acquire the engraving plates.  The plan involves a magnet, a video camera, and several inflatable air bags.  It's stereotypically an A-Team, Rube-Goldberg affair, and it's a hoot.

Carnahan edits this scene -- and indeed the finale of the film -- as a delicate dance, a ping-pong back and forth between present and future (or is it past and present?), between intention and action.  The gathered team discusses the plan prior to the mission, while we simultaneously cross-cut to the plan in action. 

Now, some critics or audiences might complain that this approach is somehow "spoon feeding" the audience information for clarity, but I would differ about that assessment.  The cross-cutting is just a dazzling, highly visual way of leading us through a particularly byzantine action scene, without laborious exposition telling why, where, and how things are happening. 

In other words, these back-and-forths move at the speed of thought. Hannibal (or Face) proposes, and then we see the proposition happening in real-time, before our eyes. 

And for his final trick, Carnahan throws a monkey wrench into the movie's last shell game: a Black Forest mercentary with a rocket launcher.

Listen, I'm not going to argue that The A-Team is a great movie in any sense of that word, though honesty forces me to admit it is much better, more accomplished affair than last summer's other macho action pic, The Expendables.   Contrarily,  I only argue that The A-Team accomplishes pretty much the same thing that the TV series did on a regular basis. 

It diverts. It generates laughs.  It thrills. 

In other words, this is a faithful and accurate reflection of The A-Team TV series, even if it does not involve helping people in need.  No doubt that aspect of the mythos was being saved for the sequel, following this "origin story."

And I do admire the filmmakers for not transforming the A-Team universe into a brutal, sex-obsessed, angsty, brooding Batman-style world, where everything is ultra-realistic, dark-for-the-sake-of-being-dark, and serious to the point of ennui.  That would have been the easy route.  Instead, this movie -- like the TV series -- is an amusing, blatantly unrealistic lark, fronted by enormously appealing actors playing iconic roles. 

More even that even, I admire how Carnahan's movie attempts to find current day alternatives to bloody murder.  You'll remember how on the original series, cars would turn over and get destroyed in chases, but the bad guys would always crawl out of the wrecks, shake it off, and get back into the game?

Here, Carnahan pitches the film's fiercest battle between the A-Team in flight (on that notorious falling tank...) and two unmanned Reaper Drones.  Hence, the bullets can fly and there's plenty of violence and action.  But just like on the TV series, nobody gets hurt in the ensuing explosions.  Same idea; but new, clever expression.

Again, I'm not championing this storytelling approach as realistic, scientifically-accurate, believable, or even my preferred approach in filmmaking.  Rather I'm championing this storytelling approach as very, very...A-Team like.

If you liked the A-Team TV series and this brand of storytelling, there's no reason in the world you wouldn't enjoy this A-Team movie.  It remembers what made us laugh, gasp and smile about the old TV series, and in the process thoroughly...diverts, to use that word again.

In the end, the A-Team movie is not about a rogue but "valuable military asset," or a realistic "clandestine operation," it's about four larger-than-life characters we love who specialize in the ridiculous.   

If you can get behind that proposition, then this movie really does come together.