Ethan Woods’s review published on Letterboxd:
I’m certainly not the one to certify something as a masterpiece. But every second of this feels absolutely on fucking target for me. I’m not sure how this is casually being watched and lightly regarded, like it’s not pounding the drums of tension and release like it’s the most important thing on earth. Even the Guy Ritchie fans wanting more fun. This gives us the line “you just focus on puttin’ you’re asshole back in your asshole, and leave this to me.” after all (along with the entirety of Josh Hartnetts performance. He’s basically midway through toasting his pants the entire runtime). But above all, this managed to mythologize Stathe brilliantly and efficiently (“like the mushroom cloud, or like Jesus H”) and uses it to create a foundation of hellishness, framing him like a phantom force doing what he must. And genuinely putting him on his back foot at the start of the climax for a true catapult of mayhem. That ends up in a perfectly empty release. Where I thought more about Stathes beleaguered breathing, rather than any actual badassery or satisfaction. I fucking love this
“And what’s in it for me?