Jonah Naplan   September 13, 2024

Major-league assassin Joe Flood (Dave Bautista) is in one sticky situation. After years of being a top hitman, he’s been diagnosed with an incurable neurodegenerative disease and given three months to live. But, being the guy that he is, Joe wants to go out in style, so he orders a hit on himself valued at $2 million through a vicious handler named Marianna (Pom Klementieff) who, in turn, hires a murderous lineup of mercenaries such as the Mackenzie Brothers (Scott Adkins and Drew McIntyre), Lovedahl (Terry Crews), Goyang (Hoon Lee) and his goons, and a fine fellow named Botas (Marko Zaror). Mere seconds before the contract goes up, however, Joe gets a call back from the doctor telling him it’s all been a mistake and that he’s not going to die. But unlike his illness, this contract can’t simply be called off, so “The Killer’s Game” is a film about him fighting all these dangerous people and often killing them in exuberantly violent ways.

I’d tell you I liked it, but that might mislead you into thinking that it’s a good movie, which it isn’t really. “The Killer’s Game” is a film in the tradition of “John Wick,” “Bullet Train,” and various pictures directed by Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie where the action does the talking, save for moments in which the dialogue acts as intimations of violence (vulgar insults thrown left and right at other characters). It’s all well-staged and cobbled together, and when it picks up in the last half hour, it really picks up, creating a sort of majesty that’s rare and beautiful. It’s also entertaining—stupid, and whimsical and makes no sense. Whether you enjoy it or not will entirely depend upon how much you’re willing to suspend your disbelief and invest yourself in this irreverent set of characters who are all, in one way or another, morally despicable and completely exaggerated in their ethnic stereotypes and idiosyncrasies.

All of the “killers” are introduced with cutscenes that show them ruthlessly murdering their respective subjects in different locations around the world. They all seem so indestructible, that is, until they’re faced with Joe Flood who is the best of the bunch. He makes short work of them like stomping his foot down on an anthill. Of course, he’s got assets at stake: a girlfriend named Maize (Sofia Boutella), who performs as a dancer in Budapest, and a close friend who is also his handler named Zvi (Ben Kingsley). This is a guy who lives so privately that his existence is nearly off-the-map. He comes home each night to a high-rise apartment threaded with security devices and weapons (the lock system on his door is similar to something you might see at the entrance of a bank vault). It’s all played with a straight face and a sort of melancholic desire for some greater cause to pursue; upon receiving his maximum life expectancy, Joe puts a gun to his chin, a flicker of hopelessness in his eyes, as he considers if there’s anything left to live for.

The movie doesn’t dare to stay this way for long though before the assassins start filing in, one by one, to take their shot at Joe, who is forced to improvise attack and defense strategies on the spot, which fortunately happens to be something he’s very gifted at. He uses a variety of guns, swords, grenades, knives, and even his opponents’ own weapons to fend off assailants gruesomely and without mercy. In regard to “sin,” as discussed in a clever moment at a cathedral late in the film, he’s significantly worse than everybody else. The movie doesn’t seriously dwell on the humanity (or lack thereof) of these characters except when it’s reeling in laughs, nor should it. Joe Flood is a violent man and we sort of just accept it because that’s his character and that’s the kind of movie this is. Director J.J. Perry and writers Rand Ravich and Simon Kinberg pull no punches in depicting his brutality even while having those closest to him say he’s genuinely “kind” and “gentle.” The odd contrast makes for some super bizarre “romantic” scenes between Joe and Maize that were already ultra-cheesy to begin with but seem even more out of place in the context of a rambunctious film like this.

The film never exactly earns our engagement in the central romance, which makes the mostly action-less first act a tough watch. It’s constantly trying to get us to care but ultimately doesn’t succeed. Maize is written as just another “worried, supportive girlfriend” and Boutella never manages to elevate the thin material above that, while Bautista revels around in “pro-wrestler-turned-actor” mode (yes, it’s a distinct performance type) without ever finding the similar nuances he displayed in more thoughtful work in the Denis Villeneuve “Dune” movies, the “Guardians of the Galaxy” franchise and “Knock at the Cabin.” Other supporting players fare just fine enough without ever making a substantial impact. Kingsley has fun in a role completely contrary to the performances he’s most known for in “Gandhi” and “Schindler’s List,” while Klementieff (who starred alongside Bautista as Mantis in “GotG”), gets severely little to do, spending most of her screentime banished to an ornate desk, barking orders to her cronies.

There was lots of potential for “The Killer’s Game” to become an instant classic of action and performance, but it never entirely gets there because of how the characters have been written and acted and because, therefore, we aren’t exactly invested in their journeys and the stakes that regard them in fight sequences. The action is well-choreographed and frequently terrific (all set to a playlist of royalty-free rock music), but it ultimately turns the film into a series of exciting scenes that you could probably watch clipped on YouTube in a couple months instead of paying to see the whole 100-minute movie. “The Killer’s Game” is satisfyingly big and entertaining, but I’d recommend that only genre completionists take their shot with this one.

Now playing in theaters.