TRAINING DAY (2001)

For all its many qualities, Training Day works best as a reminder of Denzel Washington’s excellence. As Alonzo, the terrifying LAPD detective who skirts around the rules and enters different socio-economic and cultural worlds with ease, he’s charming even at his most completely repellent. Alonzo is arrogant, contemptuous, eager to mock, breaks the rules, and possesses an incredibly dubious sense of morality, yet he earns our respect by taking it for granted that he’s won us over. He’s constantly toying with and manipulating rookie officer Jake Hoyt (Ethan Hawke), who’s been assigned to work with Alonzo for a day-long evaluation to determine whether he’s a good fit for Alonzo’s narcotics squad.

Jake is at his superior officer’s mercy—a dynamic both characters are keenly aware of throughout every minute they spend together. It’s also central to Training Day as a whole, which, fittingly for its title, unfolds from early morning to late at night during a tumultuous day for the duo. When Jake wakes in the morning to see his wife nursing their young daughter, it’s as if he’s still dreaming, imagining a rare moment of peace with the two people he loves most. The scene itself would be obnoxiously cheesy were it not for the sensitivity that David Ayer’s screenplay and Antoine Fuqua’s direction lend to the interaction, creating a moment of calm—soon to prove an oasis—that’s shattered once Jake meets Alonzo.

Despite being the protagonist, Jake often feels secondary in many scenes. We follow his perspective because we’re just as oblivious to Alonzo and his intentions as the rookie officer is, but whenever Washington is on screen, your gaze is drawn directly to him. Alonzo takes charge of conversations instantly, contorting and twisting reality to adhere to his deranged logic. Occasionally, nuggets of wisdom lurk within the chaos in which Alonzo finds security—such as telling Jake that he must bury the love and warmth he has for his wife and child while working the streets, since these are merciless territories that prey on vulnerability. More often than not, however, he delights in using Jake’s nervousness and deference to authority against him.

Like any abusive authority figure, Alonzo inspires fear at every turn. He stays one step ahead of Jake by refusing to let his underling exercise any control over where things lead, whether that’s a conversation or a drug bust. Nothing is ever simple with Alonzo; if he smiles at something you say, it’s only to earn your trust—which he’ll break either seconds later or long after you’ve accepted his skewed version of reality. Yet, like any charming authority figure, you want to earn his respect anyway, even if rationality dictates nothing good can come of it. He’s a live wire, an unpredictable spark of chaos amidst the static worlds of police officers and criminals, gliding between these opposing realms with ease and impunity. It doesn’t matter where he is or who surrounds him: Alonzo always acts as though he’s right at home. No matter how dangerous his foes may be, other people are simply guests in his world.

A character with such a compulsive need to be the centre of attention sounds deeply infuriating, but Washington is magnetic as Alonzo. Jake serves as the ideal conduit for the viewer; his trusting, good-natured attitude mirrors our own (and is quickly dismissed as naivety by Alonzo). Although Washington is clearly the star here, lending much-needed gravitas to the role, Hawke makes a perfect dance partner. His ego never gets in the way of the performance—he knows better than to attempt to overshadow the star power before him—trusting that the humanity he lends to Jake won’t be forgotten over the course of the film.

Even as Washington steals every scene he’s in, Jake is the one slowly developing, being moulded by his superior officer while also staking out his own independence. Alonzo will never change, making him the perfect representative of the morally shady aspects of the police as an institution. You can’t reform someone who’s been so corrupted by the job, especially when they’ve made that corrupted vision their entire identity.

Jake is like a newborn baby, a sponge for information and advice from all sides. Though it takes time to realise this, it’s just as exciting to watch him absorb and respond to the (mostly terrible) lessons he’s given on the job as it’s to marvel at Alonzo’s unmatched confidence. It’s also rather fun to watch Snoop Dogg (The Addams Family) and Dr Dre in supporting roles, whose celebrity status never makes them feel out of place in this world. The same can’t be said for all the supporting performers, some of whom—such as Samantha Esteban, portraying a young woman Jake saves from sexual assault—detract from the gravity of their scenes. Not only is this a lacklustre performance, but the actress also looks far older than the character’s stated age of 14.

David Ayer’s screenplay does present some improbable moments, but the film possesses a sweeping charm and magnetism that overcomes these implausible plot beats. Training Day is an acting masterclass in which everyone involved understands that the primary requirement is to emphasise Washington’s ability to charm and repel viewers, often simultaneously. The score leans slightly too heavily towards operatic theatrics, but there’s something genuinely lofty about the conflict between Jake’s eagerness to play things by the book and Alonzo’s inclination to ignore it completely.

Some of Fuqua’s best direction occurs in silent moments where the two characters observe one another, attempting to discern motives or reactions to events that have just unfolded. Despite Alonzo’s recklessness and Jake’s naivety, both are intelligent and perceptive, attempting to make sense of reality in the quiet moments preceding their headfirst dive back into the chaos of street-level police work.

Even a sequence oft-criticised for its implausibility—in which a small action early in the film pays dividends much later—is a perfect representation of what Training Day attempts to convey about Jake and Alonzo. It’s one of several satisfying moments where Ayer’s early setups pay off in unexpected ways, keeping viewers on their toes just as much as Alonzo does with Jake.

USA | 2001 | 122 MINUTES | 235:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • RUSSIAN • SPANISH • KOREAN • GREEK

Cast & Crew

director: Antoine Fuqua.
writer: David Ayer.
starring: Denzel Washington, Ethan Hawke, Scott Glenn, Tom Berenger, Harris Yulin, Raymond J. Barry, Cliff Curtis, Dr. Dre & Snoop Dogg.