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" FRATERNAL COLLABORATION--in film, it&amp;#039;s practically an epidemic. The Coen brothers. The Farrelly brothers. The Wachowski brothers (soon to be the Wachowski siblings, I guess, after Larry&amp;#039;s rumored sex change?). For &amp;quot;urban&amp;quot; audiences, the Hughes brothers. For foreign-film buffs, the Dardenne brothers.  And then there&amp;#039;s Ridley Scott (Blade Runner, Gladiator) and Tony Scott (Top Gun, Domino). Not only do they not work together ever (though they do share a production company, Scott Free), their career trajectories have diverged in such a cartoonishly clear-cut, Jekyll-and-Hyde way that you can pretty much define yourself by which one of them you prefer, just as everyone is fundamentally either a John person or a Paul person. Except in this scenario, there&amp;#039;s no John. It&amp;#039;s more like Paul versus Ringo, if Ringo used one arm solely for crashing a cymbal every two seconds. Choose: Would you rather watch Russell Crowe learn to appreciate the finer things in life after he inherits a French vineyard (A Good Year, November 10)? Or do you start chuckling happily at the ludicrous prospect of Denzel Washington as an ATF agent who uses psychic powers to solve a ferry bombing (Deja Vu, November 22)? In short, do you like your movies reputable or disreputable?  Either way, brace yourself for sensory overload. Both Scotts started out directing commercials, and their styles remain remarkably similar. Basically, Tony is Ridley on steroids. If Ridley thinks, for instance, that a slow dolly around his protagonists will heighten the emotional tenor of some confrontation, you can count on Tony, given a similar moment, to plant the characters on a high rooftop, rent a helicopter, and fly it around them in endless swooping circles, clockwise and counterclockwise, cutting arbitrarily between the two. Thing is, while this more-is-way-the-hell-more approach tends toward bludgeoning, it&amp;#039;s never in competition with the narrative, because the narrative in a Tony Scott movie is invariably so stupid that it&amp;#039;s not worthy of serious attention. Ridley&amp;#039;s histrionics are far more restrained, but because they&amp;#039;re often applied to weighty subject matter--Columbus discovering America (1492: Conquest of Paradise), U. S. troops downed in Somalia (Black Hawk Down), the defense of Jerusalem during the Crusades (Kingdom of Heaven)--they actually come across as more overbearing. That&amp;#039;s why Ridley&amp;#039;s best recent film in a walk is Gladiator, a proudly simplistic throwback to a trashy and long-abandoned genre.  Before I started rewatching their movies, it seemed patently obvious to me that Ridley is the talented Scott, Tony the hack. True Romance I credited entirely to writer Quentin Tarantino, while efficient thrillers like Crimson Tide had largely evaporated from my memory. Now, though, it seems to me that watching Ridley&amp;#039;s films is like taking a chance on an unknown bistro--could be sumptuous, could be inedible--whereas a Tony Scott flick is more akin to McDonald&amp;#039;s: trashily, comfortingly mediocre. Tony will never make a movie as astonishing as Alien or Blade Runner or as timely and controversial as Thelma &amp;amp;amp; Louise. But nor will he inflict upon us anything as painfully tepid as A Good Year, with its cozy homilies and its quaintly picturesque villas and its freeze-dried romance. Certainly Tony would never emasculate poor Russell Crowe like this. It&amp;#039;s embarrassing to watch Hollywood&amp;#039;s premier alpha male gradually opening his self-absorbed heart to the bucolic French countryside. (You almost want to hand the guy a big ol&amp;#039; phone.) Domino, by contrast, is a bad movie, but it&amp;#039;s aggressively, memorably bad; it has the courage of its convictions. If we must endure rampant stupidity, at least give us Keira Knightley in her underwear, lap-dancing her way out of a room full of heavily armed thugs. So while I wasn&amp;#039;t able to see Deja Vu before Esquire&amp;#039;s deadline, I feel confident in saying it&amp;#039;s the superior choice, no matter what your sensibility. I&amp;#039;m curious to see what Tony will do with Denzel Washington, given the (at first) bracingly morose and (later) downright sadistic performance Washington came up with for Man on Fire, his 2004 psycho-revenge thriller. With his sledgehammer emphasis on flash and surface, Tony isn&amp;#039;t exactly known as the consummate actor&amp;#039;s director, but the first act of Man on Fire, which details the tentative friendship that forms between Washington&amp;#039;s alcoholic bodyguard and Dakota Fanning&amp;#039;s relentlessly inquisitive moppet, contains moments so nuanced and truthful, undercutting all cliche&amp;#039;, that I briefly wondered whether I&amp;#039;d inserted the wrong DVD. You have to peer through the shifting film stock and spasmodic editing to find them, but they&amp;#039;re there. If Deja Vu offers anything half as unexpected, it&amp;#039;s already got the edge. Even if not, I promise you this: It will be neither Oscar-worthy nor dull. A FEW FOR YOUR QUEUE SIBLING RIVALRY The best way to decide if you&amp;#039;re a Tony guy or a Ridley guy is to compare their two decades of work 1985--86 Tony: Top Gun Ridley: Legend 1991 Tony: The Last Boy Scout Ridley: Thelma &amp;amp;amp; Louise 1995--97 Tony: Crimson Tide Ridley: G. I. Jane 2004--05 Tony: Man on Fire Ridley: Kingdom of Heaven "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/entertainment/movies/a155/esq1106screengate-58/>