A post Matrix, post Children of Men, and pre John Wick movie that combines the best of all three worlds to give you a heady concoction style, glamour, action, and boobies.
Roger Ebert gave this movie 3.5/ 4.
“There once was a woman who was quite begat.
She had three babies named Nat, Pat, and Tat.
She said it was fun in the breeding,
but found it was hell in the feeding
when she saw there was no tit for Tat.”
Shoot ‘Em Up is not for the purists- either of cinema or of action. It’s pure madness on celluloid in its truest form. It doesn’t have the emotional anchor of John Wick. It tries to, it really does, but it fails short because we just don’t really give a fuck about the protagonist. Not even when we learn why he turned into a brooding, man of serious demeanour (?)- supposedly supposed to make us care for his sad past.
Then there’s the style of the Matrix. It’s been done to death, especially in the time when this movie came out. But combine it with the brain thumping, eye hurting, saturated yellow hue that populates the screen. Revolutionary.
I just put in Children of Men because Clive Owen looks like he just dropped in from that set to finish this movie.
Then there’s the tropes. God the tropes!
- Monica Bellucci as the “whore with the heart of gold”, and tits full of milk.
- Clive Owen as the brooding, man-with-a-dark-past hero. Guess what his dark past is? Dead wife and child. Yup. He’s the basic bitch of 30’s film noir. A wannabe Humphrey Bogart, but with a semi automatic.
- The snappy dialogue that is just witty enough to leave you slightly amused.
“Who are you Mr. Smith?”
“I’m British, and I’m dangerous.”
The only thing that deviates from this trope fest is, surprise surprise, the goddamn villain.
Paul Giamatti is an absolute delight to watch as an idiosyncratic mob boss with a penchant for filling up body bags with his own henchmen every time he’s on screen. He doesn’t give a rats ass while popping a cap in his own men. Neither do the remainder of his men. They don’t protest his obsessive and borderline insane behaviour. See, it’s these little discrepancies that keep the movie from being the perfect entertainer.
Oh, and the scene where he calls for more men, because, you know, he’s kinda finished off half his men himself. Classic. And it’s the commitment to such little cause-and-effect moments is what makes this movie un-not-watchable.
“Do you know why a gun is better than a wife?”
“…”
“You can put a silencer on a gun.”
“You can put a silencer on a gun.”
The plot is rather weak and the main leads have absolutely o chemistry. Hell, even Paul Giamatti and his wife (off screen. Never seen, never heard, we only hear of Pauls side of the conversation with her on the phone) have much better chemistry.
Clive Owen looks eternally bored.
Monica Bellucci is the Monalisa of our generation. She manages to look perpetually bored and caring at the same time in this movie. An amazing feat indeed.
The baby is cute. Smiles when you explain how a gun operates.
But fuck all that. Let’s talk action. You know John Wick and his pencil? Well, here, it’s Mr. Smith and his carrot.
You know John Wick and his guns? Well, here, it’s Mr. Smith and his guns.
You know John Wick and his insanely choreographed dance of death? Well, that’s not here. It’s all wham-bam-thank you mam.
Over all it’s the ethos of a B movie marrying the production values of a Hollywood blockbuster. And it’s done just right. So, when you’re watching Shoot ‘Em Up, you better strap in and brace yourself for a bumpy, crazy fuckin ride. Because it is one.
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