Z-grade John Wick ripoff shot mostly in Columbus for tax breaks. Put it on as a joke and then watched the whole damn thing. Kind of a hoot tbh.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
The scene that continues to reverberate through my mind is the abrupt flashback that implies Cliff murdered his wife. I think it’s the key to the film but every time I have a grasp on it, it slips through my fingers. It fundamentally alters the movie, recontexualizing what’s come before and charging what comes after. People around us laughed but it didn’t strike me as comedic. There’s this deeply embedded notion that, no matter how personal Tarantino claims his work…
• Tarantino, like PTA with Magnolia, made a young man’s old man film, an elegy to vinyl in the jewel case era. (Fitting that Max compromises with a cassette.) It’s somewhat self-fulfilling that a director making something about the difficulty of aging, of being a walking relic, would immediately retreat into the past — or pastiche — for the rest of his career. Reappraisal has hardened into consensus (on LB, anyway) but the trajectory his career would’ve taken had this…