Mamet's 'Redbelt' raises action filmmaking to an art

David Mamet's stage reputation is built on his glorious dialogue, pushed far beyond any sense of realism into a verbal symphony of intertwining solos built on staccato bursts of profane words elevated to terse poetry. But when it comes to Hollywood, his most interesting films are his genre pictures -- heist films, murder mysteries, con movies, all generally male-centric narratives that he reworks with his own brand of professional pride, machismo and male honor. It's a man's world and he revels in it.

"Redbelt" takes Mamet into territory no one otherwise would have predicted, the martial-arts thriller of honorable expert fighters, international competition and sinister organizers who corrupt the process. The sport here is Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, but Mamet hews to the samurai code, with Iraq vet and poor but proud Jiu-jitsu instructor Mike Terry (Chiwetel Ejiofor, all quiet dignity and modesty) as his honorable warrior in a dishonorable world.

The plot gets Mike involved with a self-loathing Hollywood action star (Tim Allen) and a big martial-arts bout promoted by the star's agent (Mamet favorite Joe Mantegna). Betrayed by those he trusted, Mike (of course) ends up defending his honor in a very public way.

It's glorious pulp fiction elevated to genre art, full of Mamet's cynicism about the corruption of big business (just substitute Hollywood for the martial-arts league) and his romantic ideals of men in military service and men dedicated to a higher purpose.

For all the physical sequences, the screenplay is pure Mamet: characters trading questions that never get answered, lines repeated like a mantra, dialogue jumping topics like the transcript of an ADD convention, but always landing back on topic A.

Mamet is more respectful than exciting as an action director, but his fascination with how things work, be it the mechanics of designing and promoting a big pay-per-view event or battling a world-class Jiu-jitsu master, makes it all quite mesmerizing.