The production companies behind The Hitman's Bodyguard, a buddy comedy starring Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson, tried their very best to achieve an R-rating. That is, to throw in every swear word under the sun and puncture this otherwise generic and old-fashioned action flick with bone-crunching violence and CGI blood-spurting. But this is no Shane Black movie. Directed by The Expendables 3's Patrick Hughes and with a script by relative newcomer Tom O'Connor, The Hitman's Bodyguard fails to find the correct balance between humour, action and tone to warrant comparison to the likes of The Last Boy Scout or, more recently, The Nice Guys. The film simply lets the actors do what they are known best for and hopes for a positive outcome.
It begins by introducing UK-based security expert Michael Bryce (Reynolds), who prides himself on a triple-A rating and the fact that none of the rich types who employ his services have died under his protection. But his luxurious life and untarnished reputation comes to a grinding halt when a Japanese arms dealer receives a bullet through the brain. A couple of years later, Bryce has been demoted to protecting scumbags like the cocaine-snorting businessman Mr. Seifert (Richard E. Grant). He sees an opportunity to redeem himself when Interpol agent and ex-girlfriend Amelia Roussel (Elodie Yung) tasks him with transporting notorious hitman Darius Kincaid (Jackson) from Manchester to Amsterdam so he can testify in court. Only the man he is testifying against, Belarusian dictator Vladislav Dukhovich (a sleepwalking Gary Oldman), uses all of his power to disrupt their passage.
The two lead stars, regardless of how much fun it's looks like they're having, fail to inject much life into The Hitman's Bodyguard. Reynolds does his deadpan motormouth thing (Bryce is basically Deadpool without the costume or ability to regenerate limbs) and Jackson gets to scream "motherfucker!" a hell of a lot, but this simply isn't enough to justify the lack of any real jokes. There's the odd well-earned snigger, but you have to get through a lot of shouting to reach them, with Salma Hayek receiving the most thankless task as Kilcaid's sweary incarcerated wife. The action also fails to deliver. Although a boat chase through Amsterdam's canals is just preposterous enough to fleetingly entertain, the fights lack physicality and the gun-play is deprived of invention, with little real threat from the endless waves of Dukhovich's leather jacket-wearing goons. When a film feels the need to insert a fart joke, you know you're in trouble.
Sausage Party, the latest button-pusher from Seth Rogen and his usual crew, has so far grossed $135 million on a $19 million budget, receiving mainly positive reviews from critics and assisted by strong word-of-mouth thanks to a climactic scene which won't allow you to look at a hot dog in quite the same way again. Essentially a movie about anthropomorphic, sexually repressed food items who long to escape the confines of their supermarket home to reach the 'Great Beyond' - taken home by us humans - Sausage Party is a mixed bag. On one hand, it's a bold religious parable featuring some extremely creative animation, but on the other, at least comedy wise, this is on par with some of Rogen's most mediocre output.
In a supermarket named Shopwell's, the various tasty treats that line the shelves spend their days praying they will be picked and taken to the great unknown by shoppers, who they view as gods. Each morning starts with a sing-a-long, and they try to live their life by a set of rules they believe will led to them being chosen, including no sex until they're out of their packet. Hot dog Frank (Rogen) only allows himself to touch tips with the bun he's in love with, Brenda (Kristen Wiig), saving themselves for the inevitable day when they get carried off into paradise. But with the return of Honey Mustard (Danny McBride), who claims that he witnessed torture and horror at the hands of the 'gods' who devoured some of his friends, Frank sets off on a journey of discovery and awakening.
Similar in many ways to Pixar's Toy Story trilogy, Sausage Party imagines what it would be like if the food we consume to eagerly could talk to each other and wonders what they would make of us. But while Woody and co. would flop to the ground whenever a human walked in the room, the characters here exist in the 'fourth dimension', unseen by humans. This allows more freedom for directors Greg Tiernan and Conrad Vernon to deliver as many outlandish set pieces as they would like, and two scenes in particular - one inspired by Saving Private Ryan (1998) and the other featuring an Irish potato being skinned alive while his friends watch - are actually quite terrifying. The film is certainly at its best during these moments, and there are scenes of real ingenuity amongst the carnage.
The first half whizzes by and is a blast, but then the film seems to lose direction and wander aimlessly from one scene to another. It also struggles to tickle the funny bone, and relies too heavily on tired food puns, familiar shtick from the likes of James Franco, Jonah Hill, Michael Cera, Paul Rudd and Bill Hader, and outright vulgarity. Someone should point out to the writers - which include Rogen and regular collaborator Evan Goldberg - that using "fuck" every other word doesn't automatically make a film 'adult', but quickly becomes unpleasant and completely unnecessary, especially when the characters are otherwise perfectly likeable. Also, the inclusion of Douche (Nick Kroll), the cavity-cleaner who holds a grudge against Frank, serves only a distraction from the more interesting central plot.
Still, despite its many flaws and irritating tics, I very much enjoyed Sausage Party for what it is, and it's like nothing I've ever seen before. If you haven't enjoyed much of Rogen's previous output, chances are you won't love this, although there's plenty of visual splendour to savour in between the dick jokes. At its best, it offers interesting parallels to real-world issues, such as the relationship between a lavash named Kareem (David Krumholtz) and a bagel named Sammy (Edward Norton doing a pitch-perfect Woody Allen impression), and their bickering over shelf space. Of course, this is the edible version of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and while it may embrace comedic stereotyping throughout, Sausage Party never intends to offend, and instead offers a surprisingly sympathetic message about the necessity of religion. Whatever your view, the fact that we live in an age when a film like this can be greenlit and unleashed on a mainstream audience is cause for celebration.
Two childhood friends, Chon (Taylor Kitsch) and Ben (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) run a highly profitable business in Laguna Beach, California, where they share everything including their girlfriend O (Blake Lively). Chon, an ex-Navy SEAL, is the muscle, and Ben, a highly skilled botanist, is the brains. After a few years of hard work, they now grow and sell the most powerful strain of marijuana in the world. When they are sent a video depicting a mass chain-saw murder by Lado (Benicio Del Toro), they move to meet a powerful Mexican cartel ran by honcho Elena (Salma Hayek). Against the advice of CIA insider Dennis (John Travolta), Chon and Ben refuse the cartel an offer of partnership and plan to flee to Indonesia the next day. Unimpressed by the insult, Lado and his crew abduct O, forcing them into a three-year business deal, but Chon and Ben have other ideas.
Treading relatively unfamiliar ground, Oliver Stone's latest film is most akin to his sleazy 1997 neo-noir U-Turn, employing cinematographer Dan Mindel to create a violent yet sun-bleached world of torture, corruption, and sleazy Mexicans. The film begins with a group of masked unknowns being decapitated with a chain-saw, captured on shaky hand-held footage, and the film doesn't let up. The hulking Lado represents the physical side of the drugs business, and we later see him murder a lawyer and his wife in cold blood. But where the film is most impressive is when dealing with the tactical side of the situation, with Chon and Ben refusing to back down, and employing their own means of negotiation while Elena continues her wave of intimidation. It is these twists and turns that keep the film interesting, and while I found myself not really caring who gets out of it alive, the execution kept me on my toes.
The ensemble of unrelatable and despicable characters is the main weakness of the film, with none of the large cast standing out as the focal point of the movie. Chon is suitably stoic as the much-needed physical presence in Chon and Ben's business, but it is Ben who provides the only remotely sympathetic character, a naive botany genius that is as horrified at the violence that unfolds before him as we are. The narration is provided by O, who after explaining her romantic situation with Chon and Ben admits that we are probably thinking "slut!", and she's right. Why would I care about a beautiful spoilt rich-girl living off the riches of two criminals? The performances are outstanding throughout, however. Del Toro proves genuinely terrifying straight from the off as we witness just what his character is capable of, but, surprisingly, it is Travolta's slimy CIA agent that impresses most. His panicked actions provide some amusement, and the scene with his dying wife is genuinely moving. Savages is not particularly original, intelligent or innovative, but it is two hours of exciting, if often unpleasant, entertainment.
It begins by introducing UK-based security expert Michael Bryce (Reynolds), who prides himself on a triple-A rating and the fact that none of the rich types who employ his services have died under his protection. But his luxurious life and untarnished reputation comes to a grinding halt when a Japanese arms dealer receives a bullet through the brain. A couple of years later, Bryce has been demoted to protecting scumbags like the cocaine-snorting businessman Mr. Seifert (Richard E. Grant). He sees an opportunity to redeem himself when Interpol agent and ex-girlfriend Amelia Roussel (Elodie Yung) tasks him with transporting notorious hitman Darius Kincaid (Jackson) from Manchester to Amsterdam so he can testify in court. Only the man he is testifying against, Belarusian dictator Vladislav Dukhovich (a sleepwalking Gary Oldman), uses all of his power to disrupt their passage.
