The guilty pleasure appeal of 'Taken'

I didn't fully appreciate Taken the first time I saw it. The action scenes had a certain ruthless efficiency, but the story -- absurd as it is -- took a while to get going and I found the more laughable aspects of the film too distracting to discount.

But after watching it again a few more times over the years, I have come to love the movie for what it is -- a pulpy, silly B-movie that is elevated tremendously by the presence of prestige actor Liam Neeson.

Today, the idea of Neeson as a butt-kicking (albeit over 60) action hero is just a fact of life, but people forget what a strange choice it was to cast him in a movie like this back in 2009. This was the guy from Schindler's List. He was the personification of classy productions. Hence that Seinfeld joke where George takes offense when Jerry muses that perhaps a car he believed belonged to Jon Voight, actually could have been the property of the Irish character actor.

Seeing Neeson spit out badass dialogue and karate chop vaguely ethnic baddies turned out to be a transgressive delight, a star was "reborn." Neeson has gone on to make more interesting action films -- The Grey, for instance, is an underrated gem. But for most fans he never has topped Taken and he probably never will.

The opening of this film is chock full of unintentional humor. Neeson's daughter appears to be in her mid-20s, but she is playing someone in their late teens who acts like they are about six or seven. For evidence, take a look at how she runs.

Neeson's overprotective father, who we see dispatching a would-be stabber of a pop star with relative ease in the first act, presumes the worst when his ditzy spawn seeks to take a trip to Paris with one of her besties. And in a sequence that is appalling simplistic, she and her friend fall into a trap to be kidnapped almost the instant they get off the plane.

They immediately befriend a handsome total stranger, lead him to their home and tells him where they are staying. Neeson's daughter's blonde friend announces her intention to sleep with the sleazeball, who apparently aides kidnappers for a living?

Before you can say "moron," the two women are abducted leading to the coolest phone call monologue of all time. You know the "particular set of skills" scene.

It was in this moment that Neeson established his new screen persona, taciturn, yet noble and believably imposing. Neeson's hulking height and deep baritone voice are employed to great effect as is his intelligence, which constantly keeps him one step ahead of his enemies.

The set-up turns out to be sensational because it -- in movie terms -- justifies all the carnage and mayhem that is to follow. This is one of those films that probably convinced far too many conservatives that torture works, but no bother -- even an unabashed liberal like myself can appreciate a good ass-whoopin' (and this film does not skimp in that department).

In that way it feels like a throwback to a not-so-kind or gentle time when action movies were short and simple. There isn't too much back story or complication, the only difference is Neeson isn't saddled with corny one liners. Still, it shares the same DNA with the best of Stallone and Schwarzenegger.

It's a guilty pleasure to be certain, but their is joy to be found in dumb fun.