Soggy Seagal extinguishes 'Fire'

Clearly a master of many talents, action-monger Steven Seagal in his new film, "Fire Down Below," does more than merely karate chop the hell out of the bad guys. He actually sings and plays the guitar. He also smiles on occasion.

REVIEW
	Fire Down Below At Briarwood and Showcase

And it's a good thing that Seagal decided to, shall we say, expand his fine acting abilities in this otherwise banal kickboxing flick. Except for the fleeting moments when Seagal warbles away on few ditties with Travis Tritt and Randy Travis, "Fire Down Below" offers its dedicated viewer nothing new.

At this point, 10 films into Seagal's career, the main problem with his movies is that absolutely no one on the face of the Earth poses a threat to him. The recipe for a halfway decent action flick prescribes a little bit of danger - the slightest threat to the protagonist's life. When we perceive such danger, the hero's escape and triumph thus seem all the more miraculous. Here, as usual, this one-man execution squad doesn't even flinch when he is jumped by a bulging throng of tattooed hillbillies, and neither do we. As expected, Seagal renders handicapped all his aggressors in less than a minute, and then he fixes his ponytail.

Just as in any other Seagal movie, the plot serves as an excuse for random beatings and explosions. And we do get plenty of them. The star plays an EPA agent sent to rural Kentucky to investigate illegal toxic waste dumping. Masquerading as an aid worker, Seagal at once plays nice to the innocent local folk (including the accomplished Harry Dean Stanton and Marg Helgenberger, who both deserve better) and snarls when the baddies get in his way. He uncovers a massive eco-terrorist operation run by corporate villain Kris Kristofferson and enforced by a stereotypical band of bourbon-swigging pickup truck drivers.

True to his role as omnipotent creep and small-town protector, Kristofferson sicks his legion of henchmen on Seagal, only to have the Aikido master summarily break all their noses. One neat feature is to see the film's two opponents - singer-turned-actor Kristofferson and thespian-turned-crooner Seagal - finally lock horns in an explosion-laden finale. Guess who wins?

The director, Felix Enriquez Alcala, a veteran of TV shows like "NYPD Blue" and "ER," would have you think that Kentucky is the world's poorest place, second, perhaps, only to some famine-infested South American swamp. At one point, Seagal even suggests that he's unwittingly walked into "Deliverance" territory. Unfortunately, in "Fire Down Below" there's no inbred toothless banjo kid around to scare the crap out of him and us. Instead, the plight of Appalachia acts more as a cartoon backdrop for all of Seagal's typically slow, calculated prowlings.

Last year, when Seagal quickly and unceremoniously skydived without a parachute in "Executive Decision," it looked as if he had finally lost his predestined place on Hollywood's walk of fame. But he's come back, and what has made him into the celebrity he is today escapes me. I guess there is something cool about a ship's cook or an environmental activist being a Kung-Fu fighter. Seagal, like Bruce Lee before him, lives out every male fantasy to its orgasmic conclusion, and then does it all over again. He moves and talks slowly so that we know that he means business, and he looks extremely deadly because his victims shriek a lot when he pokes them in the eyes.

But Seagal's darting glare and swift punches have gotten old.

So has that ridiculous black spandex and Nehru jacket getup he always wears. He can kick all the butt in the world, but next to a bunch of dudesx in overalls, old Steven just looks like a fool.

"Now, both of you go back there and separate your trash from your recyclables."

Steven Seagal thanks God he's a country boy in "Fire Down Below."

09-08-97