Formula 51
|
How many movies this year have teamed angry, kilt-wearing, African-American pharmacologists with diminutive, foul-mouthed, British thugs? I've lost track. Fortunately it's an inexhaustible genre, like lascivious-cheerleader-space-battle films. Of all this year's angry-kilt-wearing-African-American-pharmacologist-with-diminutive-foul-mouthed-British-thug movies, this one has the best looking female assassin forced into working for a drug dealer called "The Lizard." I also suspect there was a bet among directors in the genre over who could drive the greatest number of viewers with low gross-out tolerance from the theater. This one tries, but probably didn't win the bet. If you're squeamish, go for popcorn each time Samuel L. Jackson
says "seconds."
Still, there are explosions, high-intensity sniper fire, skinheads having the crap beaten out of them (physically and pharmacologically), plot twists, car chases, and a shot of Samuel L. Jackson's butt. Fans of Meatloaf (the performer, not the dinner entrée) will be pleased to see he's still working. Watching this movie is like a night with a bottle of cheap booze. You'll enjoy it while it lasts, but the next day it's hard to explain what was that good about it. And you'll have some memories of bodily functions that you'd rather forget.
If you liked the movies below, you may like this one (and visa versa):
Eight-Facet Info Rating, rated on a scale of 0 (None) to 4 (Lots!)): |