In his excellent 2002 cop drama Dark Blue, director Ron Shelton weaved a powerful story of police corruption into the backdrop of the L.A. riots of 1992. The filmmaker didn’t use the incident as a prop, but a canvas to parallel rising tides of violence that plagued the city, its police, and its citizens. Director Ariel Vroman’s latest film, 1992, uses that important moment in American history to fuel a pedestrian robbery tale that wastes a good cast. It seems strange, and more than a bit offensive, that a filmmaker would tackle the riots without examining the cause and effect. While the screenplay (by Sascha Penn and director Vroman) has a few moments that speak to the Los Angeles police and their racist tactics towards people of color, they are used as a ruse to give weight to a banal story. 

A very good Tyrese Gibson stars as Mercer, a man six months out of incarceration who cares for his teenage son, Antoine (Christopher A’mmanuel). Their relationship is contentious, as the young man resents him for not having been around when he was growing up. This story arc could have given the film its focus. There is a power to the early scenes with Tyrese Gibson’s Mercer, as we watch a father trying to keep his son from taking the same path that ruined his own life. Through this tale, director Vroman could have used the work to explore the complexities of life in the Crenshaw area during that tumultuous period. Instead, the story is mostly swept aside to focus on a ridiculously simplistic heist-gone-wrong plot. 

Taking place on April 29, 1992, only hours from the announcement of the verdict, Mercer fears the worst and plans to keep his son safe. Once the verdict comes down and L.A. begins to explode, Mercer takes his son to the warehouse that employs him. At the same time, a family of thieves (Ray Liotta, Scott Eastwood, and Dylan Arnold) plan to rob the warehouse, using the riots as cover. As the main characters migrate to the same setting, 1992 becomes something unbelievably ridiculous. The film morphs into a half-assed Die Hard meets Reservoir Dogs clone where Mercer sneaks around the warehouse, dismantling the bad guys’ getaway vehicle and taking out one particularly nasty associate that Liotta’s character brought along for “security.” 

Liotta takes Gibson’s son hostage, just as Eastwood becomes Gibson’s prisoner. The two fathers communicate over walkie-talkies and make deals for a trade. It is all incredibly inept and crafted so desperately that we expect Gibson’s character to eventually say, “Yippee Ki-Yay, Mother Fucker.” 

Tyrese Gibson is a fine actor and does very well here. He uses a hunched posture and intense stare to portray his character’s anger towards the racist city he lives in. Gibson never goes for histrionics and keeps the performance at a low boil, the same way Mercer doesn’t let his son see the anger inside him. Unfortunately, his effective performance is in search of a place to land, as the director eventually shifts the path of Gibson’s character into something unnecessarily clichéd. 

Scott Eastwood is equally good. He has always been a good actor who is still trying to break out from under the shadow of his legendary poppa. Sadly, Eastwood is still in search of the right project. 

It is a shame Ray Liotta failed to receive an Oscar nomination for his starring role as Henry Hill in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. It is a shame that he died at only 67. It is a devastating shame that his last film released casts him as a cardboard villain where the director forces him to give the same psychotic performance the actor left behind long ago. Ray Liotta was one of our most talented actors. To have this as his final curtain call is demeaning to the legacy he leaves behind. 

The screenplay has zero urgency. 1992 wants to be an action movie, a heist movie, and (as an afterthought) maybe throw in something about the L.A. riots. In trying to trick viewers into believing they are seeing something important, the picture throws in a scene where Mercer and Antoine are accosted by a couple of racist cops. There is no emotional impact to the moment, as Vroman fails to do anything interesting, missing the social dramatics he is reaching for. In contrast, there is a similar scene from John Singleton’s 1991 classic, Boyz n the Hood, where two teens are racially profiled by a pair of cops; one white, one black. The way Singleton designs the moment gives it an unbearable tension where the fear from the characters is felt by the audience. The moment stays with us; its emotional and sociological footprint still resonates over 30 years later. The same type of scene in this film is instantly forgotten. 

To use what transpired after the Rodney King verdicts as a B-movie plot device dishonors those who lived and died in its wake; to say nothing of what it does to King’s memory. The director fills his film with shootouts, tired standoffs where everyone is pointing a gun at one another, a car chase, and lots of yelling. There is certainly an energy on screen, but the director has no clear idea of what he wants the picture to be and everything is presented in a lackluster visual style. The whole project looks and feels drab while the mix of genres becomes nothing more than sloppy filmmaking. 

Ultimately, Ariel Vroman’s 1992 becomes a lost cause that wastes some very good actors and completely blows its chance to be something special.

1992

Written by Sascha Penn & Ariel Vroman

Directed by Ariel Vroman

Starring Tyrese Gibson, Scott Eastwood, Ray Liotta, Christopher Ammanuel, Dylan Arnold

R, 96 Minutes, Lionsgate, Death Row Pictures, Sumatra Films