
The Hitman’s Bodyguard movie review: protection racket
Reluctant-buddy action comedy feels like unfunny, warmed-over ’90s leftovers. Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson look like they’d rather be elsewhere.

Reluctant-buddy action comedy feels like unfunny, warmed-over ’90s leftovers. Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson look like they’d rather be elsewhere.

Riveting and repulsive, with a claustrophobic perspective that mirrors its subjects: all id, all in the moment. But it’s also shallow, all on the surface.

Overly complicated yet somehow anticlimactic, and constructed more with pat Hollywood pomp rather than the authentic grit it demands.

Two well-off white men on class warfare, what’s good for women in Hollywood, and — most importantly — some movies they haven’t even seen yet.

A magnificent science fiction drama, and a beautiful one. Wonderfully radical for the simple fact that it is ruled by principled ideas.

Offers nothing by way of suspense, intrigue, or characters who rise even a little bit above the yawningly bland.

No black humor. No satire. No point. But hey, check out the 1987 catchphrases dropped in at random!

The whole damn movie appears to be here in the trailer. So now you don’t need to see it.
This may be the darkest, the grimmest, the most depressing summer popcorn movie ever. It is not summery. It is not popcorny. The peasants of Gotham are us, we 99 percent huddled in the dark and frantic for a hero we will not find.
Here’s an at-a-glance look at my picks for tomorrow night’s Academy Awards…