Hollywood Homicide

'Been a long time since anything happened at Hollywood and Vine.' It's Harrison Ford's 'seen it all but can still get it up' cop speaking, in the midst of some ultra-mild mayhem. Scrub the Vine bit, though, and it might be Ron Shelton in sarcastically mournful mode. The man wrote and directed a near unbroken run of great American romantic comedies from Bull Durham to Tin Cup, but here he's on the sort of desperation dollar deal that redefines the commingling of bog and standard. His lightweight LA comedy thriller is infused with a weariness that's understandable, saddening and perhaps commercially suicidal, with veteran Ford and comparatively callow sidekick Josh Hartnett probing, by generic numbers, the backstage slaughter of a rap crew. One cop has Motown ringtones, and deals real estate on the side, and the other, a daylighting yoga tutor, wants to reincarnate himself as Streetcar-era Brando. Cameo appearances from Smokey Robinson and Gladys Knight show you where the authorial enthusiasms lie, but it's a problem for a movie when both of the lead characters want to be doing something other than moving along the plot - even one this desultory. By the time the extended car chase/slug out comes around, and the criminal and corrupt are perfunctorily rooted out, you'd give anything for a Berry Gordy exposé instead.