UNDER SIEGE 2: DARK TERRITORY
* * * * (1995, 100 minutes, Rated R)
Seagal Die Hards on a Train.
They say that, when you boil it all down, movie plots only tell one of six stories. So you have to
understand the wholesale excitement in Hollywood when a brand new seventh plot was
discovered in the modern day classic, Die Hard. Those of you alive during those heady days may
recall a rash of films that were described as "Die Hard on a plane" or "Die Hard in an IHOP."
No one was immune to the lure of this seventh plot. And thus, Die Hard on a Boat with Steven
Seagal, or Under Siege, was born. The success of that film led to Die Hard on a Train with Steven
Seagal, or Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. Was that film any good? Let's find out...


The film opens with Gen. That '70s Dad adding a top
secret satellite to our planet's collection, which is
promptly used to spy on some lady sunbathing topless.
Your tax dollars at work!
Elsewhere, Seagal and a chef pedeconference their way
through the restaurant where everyone knows their
name. Here's the story: Seagal is going to meet his
niece at the train station so they can go to California to
pay their last respects to her parents, who just died in a
plane accident. Seagal hasn't seen his niece in quite
some time, largely because he's been too busy killing
people and defending Playboy Playmates from terrorists.
Like you wouldn't trust Kurtwood Smith with our nation's secrets...
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At the train station, Steven Seagal is wandering around, checking out teenage girl-- uh, "looking for
his niece." And holy crap, it's Katharine Heigl! I laugh and laugh until I pee myself a bit, then stop
the film so I can change my pants. Damn, and I thought Heigl's post-Knocked Up film career was
dismal...
Ms. Heigl (above) isn't this damp in Under Siege 2: Dark Territory.
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Anyway, you know Heigl is a Spunky Teenager by
her headphones and the fringe on her leather
jacket. What follows might be the most awkward
scene ever to appear in a Steven Seagal film: As
they walk to the platform, Seagal starts babbling
about teddy bears and how Heigl used to love
them, and he's eight kinds of nervous when he
gives her a teddy bear out of his backpack.
Naturally, because she's a Spunky Teenager,
Heigl look at Seagal like he just copped a squad
right there on the platform. Me? I'm just taken
aback at seeing Seagal do something that
resembled actual acting.
"Guess I'm not trained for this," Seagal grits. None of us are, man.
And we're off! Seagal tries to smooth things over with Teen Heigl by 1) taking a really
condescending tone, 2) dodging the very legitimate question of "Why did you and my father stop
talking?" and 3) implying that her father was a Bad Man. Which is pretty rich coming from a guy
whose protagonists kills an average of 25 people per film.
Teen Heigl walks off and bumps into The Porter. Immediately taken by Teen Heigl's feminine
wiles, The Porter starts "workin' it" until Teen Heigl has the opportunity to show of her Super
Akiedo Powers. Ha ha ha, silly Porter! Everyone knows that Aikido beats everything.
I feel awful for Morris Chestnut, who is saddled with the role of the Finest Porter Role That 1923
Had to Offer. The film is so disrespectful of The Porter, making him such a buffoon, I think the
filmmakers would have made Mr. Chestnut wear black face (despite already being
African-American) for the role if they could.
Shortly after Seagal teaches the train chefs how to microwave cake batter (!), all hell breaks loose:
The conductors are gunned down! A Humvee full of baddies appears out of nowhere! Mr. Blonde
Evil German Guy turns out to be just an Evil Guy! The Porter hides in a pile of luggage -- ha ha!
Passengers (including Teen Heigl) are shepherded up to the second level of the train. Some
baddies pop into the kitchen and gun down a cook holding a cleaver. "Any more heroes?" Cue
the Seagallary!

After murdering the crap out of two baddies, Seagal nearly
shouts "Take cover!" to the other chefs. Instead, they stand
around and get uzi'd to death as Seagal's stunt double flies
across the room. Seagal steps out of the walk-in freezer that
none of the highly trained baddies bothered to check and sees
the blood and mess on the floor. "This, I'm trained for." Good,
I'm sure The Porter knows where he can get you a mop.
Out of a stolen huey comes the Hannibal of a Discount A-
Team and his DWI lawyer (played by noted playwright Eric
Bogosian). "Vee leave in ten-tee saygunds," Hannibal says.
Ah, I knew someone in this film had to be German. Sure
enough, "ten-tee saygunds" later, the train re-departs.
Once the baddies set up their computer lab, the DWI lawyer, or
“Travis Dane” as the movie insists on calling him, gets on a
closed circuit TV to explain to the audience that he’s just hijacked the train. He’s meant to be
delightfully amusing about the whole thing, but I was more amused by the enormous can of
Idahoan Instant Potatoes sitting next to the TV in the kitchen.
Best. Product Placement. Ever.
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I’ve carried on quite a bit so far, so I’ll start summing up: The rest of the
film consists of 1) Dane monologuing, 2) Seagal talking walks along
the top of the train, often while waving around an automatic rifle with
one hand, and 3) Dane using his frickin' "laser beam" to blow things
up. Awesomely, Dane uses his freakin' laser to take out a jet carrying
someone's ex-wife. Like a dime store Dr. Evil, Dane is auctioning off
the use of his "laser beam" off to anyone who can come up with... one
beeeeeellion dollars!
The movie does take the time to establish just how much of a Tuff Guy
Seagal's character is. When the baddies find out exactly who is pulling the John McClane routine,
they all freak out. One actually manages to hit Seagal with a bullet, but he no-sells it like The
Undertaker. In Seagal's world, gunshot wounds are for pussies.
It all builds up to a mano-a-mano throwdown between Seagal and the Hannibal of the Discount
A-Team, because with apologies to the talented Mr. Bogosain, he's not a physical threat to
anyone. Hannibal arms himself with a cleaver while Seagal stands in place and waves his arms
around like one of those inflatable tube men.
Don't worry -- with the help of some sped up
camera, Seagal comes out on top.
The film ends with laughably bad CGI
explosions vomited all over the screen.
Somehow, "vomit all over the screen" seems
like an appropriate way to describe a Steven
Seagal film.