The movie poster for “From Paris with Love” is a not-too-subtle collage of a handgun with the Eiffel Tower where the barrel should be. It implies the status quo in Americanized action-film garbage where the setting and much of the story serve only as a backdrop for the violence. But the real backdrop in this latest collaboration from director Pierre Morel and writer-producer Luc Besson, is the culturally significant American action films that “Love” pays homage to.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers plays James Reese, assistant to the American ambassador to France and a low-level CIA operative who breaks into the big leagues when he partners with super-agent Charlie Wax, played by John Travolta. But the story is nowhere near as interesting as the two main themes of fantasy vs. reality and guy friends vs. girlfriends.

Reese sports an impeccably groomed French moustache as he switches out license plates showing the true drudgery of intelligence work. His girlfriend has him on a short leash, and though their life together is happy, the choking domesticity remains firmly at odds with his desire for adventure. Actually, Reese’s life seems pretty good and the film fairly realistic at this point.

But a simple story of a life well-lived doesn’t quite carry the same gripping intensity of guns and car chases. Enter Charlie Wax, a one- man army whose idea of a covert operation is hiring a hooker while waiting for his mark to show up and then killing everyone. At least he endorses condoms and remains self-aware of his bulletproof physique. But his true charm comes not from this limited responsibility, but his glorious and completely unbelievable action sequences. At one point, Wax disassembles the handgun of an assailant then stabs him in the throat with its barrel in a single, fluid motion.

His operative mission while in Paris changes whenever convenient, but his true purpose is to be Reese’s best friend. Not only does Wax help Reese find adventure and have some fun, but he tells him it’s OK when James can’t quite stomach the rough stuff.

Rhys Meyers gives a very humdrum performance, adding little value or entertainment himself. But his general ineptitude helps every man in the audience imagine he could fill Reese’s shoes, especially since he doesn’t do anything. In one scene, Wax rushes ahead and up a spiraling staircase to deal with the bad guys while Reese follows two flights below.

He is supposed to be giving cover, but only ends up taking in the destruction as body after body fall lifeless from above. He is very much in the same position as the audience.

Travolta, on the other hand, is finally capitalizing on the success of “Pulp Fiction.” In his introduction, Wax delves into the grammar and usage of the MF word, and later enjoys the fabled Royale with cheese. He is not the most awesome action hero to date, but he is the perfect friend to Reese and the audience.

The style is sharp and the cinematography

and editing is well done. The action is satisfying, if brainless and there are a few good laughs along the way. A little bit of spy coolness permeates the film but never resorts to gadget fetishism on the level on Bond.

The formulaic story leads to a climax so trite that it demands a rewrite.

Amazingly, that’s exactly what we get in “Love,” a realization of the failures of the form followed by a successful second attempt. This film is a lot of fun, and I’m not ashamed to say I loved it.

chronicle@colum.edu