This is a perfect example of why you can’t judge a movie by its first ten minutes. Because when I started this film (about, you guessed it, seven psychopaths hanging out in Los Angeles, sometimes killing one another) I really loved the opening moments and general setup. But then, as it kept going, it was very clear there wasn’t any real direction or connection to the audience. This is mostly about doing a half-assed Tarantino riff that pretends to be better than a half-assed Tarantino riff…which was something I thought was fully explored ten years ago. And so, a film I started out liking, turned out to be one I hated.
What Works: The first ten minutes, and there are some nice touches here and there along the way. All of the actors are clearly having fun (Sam Rockwell, as usual, is perhaps having a little too much fun), but the strongest are Woody Harrelson and Christopher Walken. The one scene they share together is electric.
What Doesn’t Work: What’s the point? That should be the question asked before any movie starts production, and yet it so rarely is. They’ve made a movie that thinks it’s clever and self-referential and wise to Hollywood and yet it seems completely ignorant and tone-deaf in many regards. It was about the mid-point where I realized that we were watching flashbacks or side-stories that are so horrifically violent (and yet supposed to be funny), that the actual main plot thread isn’t going anywhere. “They’re just running the clock,” I thought. Plus, the director, Martin McDonagh’s obsession with white man/black woman couples struck by a violent tragedy (it happened to Brendan Gleeson’s character in In Bruges, and happens in this movie…twice) feels like a theme that never pays off. Three couples in two movies can’t be a coincidence, so what is he trying to work through? What’s he trying to say about this? I have no clue, and I’m not sure he does either.
What I Would Have Done Differently: In Bruges works, this movie doesn’t. And it really all boils down to originality, heart, and soul. Bruges busted through the Pulp Fiction-trap by taking us to a different setting, and gradually peeling back layers of its two main characters. In this, Sam Rockwell pretty much stays Sam Rockwell, and Colin Farrell pretty much stays Colin Farrell. There’s no underlying emotional current to transcend the violence, and I think that, on some level, McDonagh knows it.