After watching their respective partners die, a New Orleans hitman and a Washington D.C. detective form an alliance in order to bring down their common enemy.
While Bullet to the Head’s predictable plotting and low-brow aspirations never reach the heights of Hill’s streak of brilliant thrillers in the late 70s and early 80s (such as The Driver, The Warriors, and Southern Comfort), it’s still a welcome return from one of the genre’s acknowledged masters.
What follows is certainly noisy, occasionally amusing, but chiefly a reminder that the cinematic legacy of dull 1980s storytelling deserves a bullet of its own.
Brutally intense fight scenes, sharp editing and Game of Thrones’ charismatic colossus Jason Momoa as the most '80s henchman this side of Commando provide further zip to an enjoyable 90 minutes.
Even watched in an indulgent frame of mind, this is dull, retrograde rubbish.
Stupendously daft.
It strains to be lively and the basso-voiced Stallone works hard but there’s no disguising a dumb, unimaginative screenplay.
Fun in parts, and Stallone’s always watchable, but it’s an ’80s tribute movie that coasts along on rapidly diminishing goodwill. Beige Heat, if you will.
They're not kidding about the title: even after a body has been riddled with bullets the coup de grace is invariably one between the eyes. Delightful.
Even Stallone's rumbling voiceover possesses the drooping tone of a lullaby – like 45rpm vinyl played at 33. And if you think that reference is retro, you should see the actual movie.
When a movie practically gives up on itself, it’s all the more reason for us to follow suit.
Entertaining comeback by Walter Hill.
Moderately entertaining.
Firing blanks.
Stallone is watchable and there’s some punchy action, but as a buddy movie Bullet To The Head falls flat. Time to rewatch Tango & Cash…
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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