A Cinematic Summit Gone Awry: The Laughable Lunacy of "G20"

Terrorists take over the G20 summit with President Sutton, bringing her governing and military experience to defend her family, company, and the world.

https://youtu.be/2egCzjmMzA4

I've just emerged from what can only be described as an over-hyped, summit-level fiasco of a movie—“G20”—a film that promises female empowerment with a twist of terrorist high jinks but ends up feeling like a jumbled conference room discussion with a dash of martial arts absurdity. Now, if you’re looking for a cinematic experience where clichés clash like world leaders in a heated debate, then buckle up, because “G20” delivers that and then some.

Let’s kick things off with the casting, which is a veritable Who’s Who of familiar faces. Viola Davis was slated to anchor the film as President Danielle Sutton, a tough-as-nails leader with a military background to boot. Yet, in a twist that mirrors the off-screen chaos, she’s notably absent—bowing out in support of the actors’ and writers’ strike of 2023. (You know it’s bad when your A-list savior is nowhere to be seen.) Instead, the spotlight falls on a motley crew including Anthony Anderson, who not only had to compensate for Viola’s absence but also ended up in a real-life scuffle with a chair on set. (I mean, who needs a stunt coordinator when you’ve got a chair? This guy literally ended up in a Cape Town emergency room from a fight with one!) Then there’s Anthony Starr as Rutledge, the only character who didn’t completely deflate under the weight of the movie’s absurdity. His performance was a beacon of genuine intrigue amidst a cast that otherwise felt like a parade of mismatched party favors.

Anthony Anderson’s performance was nothing short of a spectacle. In a film that seems to be trying desperately to appeal to a demographic that isn’t quite defined, his role as Derek Sutton provides some much-needed levity. It’s almost as if the filmmakers, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage the narrative, decided that if the movie was going to be laden with clichés, they might as well let a guy who knows how to throw a punch (or, you know, get into a fight with furniture) take center stage. Meanwhile, Ramón Rodríguez, playing the ever-suspicious Agent Manny Ruiz, and Marsai Martin as Serena Sutton, provided an undercurrent of duty and determination. Yet, the film couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a superhero flick, a political thriller, or an over-the-top action extravaganza. The result? A hodgepodge that leaves you wondering if the plot was assembled during a particularly chaotic G20 summit of ideas.

Douglas Hodge’s portrayal of Prime Minister Oliver Everett adds another layer to the spaghetti junction of characters, bringing to mind the tired old trope of world leaders who either solve problems with a stiff upper lip or break into a spontaneous dance during a crisis. And then there’s Derek Sutton, who, despite the movie’s heavy reliance on female empowerment themes—pun intended—comes off as the generic facsimile of a villain’s understudy in a script that seems to have been written for a male protagonist with the gender just swapped at the last minute.

Plot-wise, “G20” centers on a terrorist takeover of the actual G20 summit, where President Sutton’s governing and military skills are put to the test as she defends her family, company, and, admittedly, a world that’s seen better days. The premise is tantalizing on paper: a high-stakes plot involving international terrorism, political intrigue, and explosive action sequences, all played out against the backdrop of one of the world's most watched summits. Unfortunately, the execution is about as cohesive as a diplomatic press conference where every speaker is trying to one-up the other with well-rehearsed platitudes.

I’ll be the first to admit, I did enjoy the sheer star power on display. You practically get a mini reunion of Hollywood heavyweights, and for a moment, you forget that you’re watching a film that might very well be forgotten faster than a tweet from a disgruntled politician. The film’s cast is like an all-star team that’s gathered for a one-off charity event, each performer doing their best to mask the glaring holes in the script. It’s in this moment of star-studded mediocrity that Anthony Starr’s character, Rutledge, shines through as the only truly compelling figure. He’s the wild card in a deck of cards that apparently forgot to be shuffled properly.

Speaking of moments that defy all semblance of logic, the finale deserves a special mention. The climactic showdown seems to follow its own mathematical laws, or rather, the lack thereof. It’s like someone tried to cram an entire textbook of physics into one scene, only to have it collapse under the weight of its own implausibility. The end scene of “G20” is so audaciously over-the-top that I found myself questioning whether the filmmakers were intentionally trying to redefine the laws of nature or were merely displaying their desperation for a memorable conclusion.

On the topic of fight scenes, “G20” offers some of the most ludicrously choreographed brawls I’ve witnessed in recent years. Sure, I appreciate a good action sequence, but when you start questioning the very physics of movement and the coordination of combatants who seem to ignore gravity, it becomes less a fight and more of a whimsical ballet of absurdity. There’s an element of humor in the unintentional artistry of these sequences, but by the time the credits roll, you’re left with the unsettling feeling that you’ve just watched a summative breakdown of what makes action movies both compelling and, in this case, completely ridiculous.

The underlying theme of female empowerment is as heavy-handed as a G20 budget meeting, and at times, it veers into preachiness that reminds you that the filmmakers were clearly excited about their own message. They wanted to send a resounding statement about strength and resilience, yet the end result reads like an awkward attempt to pander to a current cultural mandate. When you have strong female leads, the narrative needs to be as robust and empowering as the characters themselves. Instead, “G20” feels like a movie where the gender of the protagonist was changed on a whim, leaving behind a script that struggles to find its identity.

I must say, there are elements of “G20” that spark a degree of admiration for its sheer audacity. There’s a kind of charm in watching a movie that is so unabashedly ambitious in its attempt to tackle multiple genres and themes at once—imagine a stew where every ingredient fights to be the star. Yet, as the layers peel away, you’re left with the realization that most of the goodness is buried under a pile of unrealistic fight scenes, chaotic narrative decisions, and an ending that defies both common sense and mathematical probability.

Despite its lofty goals, “G20” manages to leave the audience with the same uneasy aftertaste as a dinner party where the conversation turns insipid and every joke falls flat. It’s as if the film mirrors its own title: a gathering of big ideas that ultimately fail to come to any meaningful consensus. And let’s not forget the unintended comedy provided by the off-screen antics—Viola Davis’s principled exit in solidarity with the strike, Anthony Anderson’s collision with a chair, and a plot that makes you wonder if someone missed the memo on what constitutes a believable fight scene.

So, as I stagger out of this cinematic summit, I can’t help but reflect on the experience as a series of chaotic yet laughable moments that will undoubtedly be forgotten as quickly as they arrived. “G20” is the kind of film that, despite its pretensions of grandeur and empowerment, ends up feeling like a poorly staged play: loud, overhyped, and completely lacking in anything that truly matters.

6.0/10 and I am being very gracious

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