The Hitman's Bodyguard (Dir. Patrick Hughes, 1h 58 m)

There is something wonderfully, enjoyably dense about this movie, from its almost laughably 80s B-Movie title to its entire premise-the first time I saw the trailer for this film, after all, I assumed it was either an (expensive) joke, or some other film heavily camouflaged in some way shape or form. Yet, the film, about, yes, a hitman (played by Samuel L motherfucking Jackson having to be guarded by his former nemesis, a protection agent played by Ryan Reynolds), as he travels to testify against a corrupt Eastern European president who will stop at nothing to escape justice (played to sinister perfection by Gary Oldman) is, despite its laughable premise, and its focus on the banter between these two rivals, a surprisingly solid, if mentally lightweight picture that pulls off not only the tense relationship but gunplay, badinage and chases a-plenty to enjoyably cheesy, if slightly tonally uneven perfection.

At the centre of the film is, as one would expect, the relationship between hitman Kincaid and his bodyguard, Bryce, and its growth through the film-both Jackson and Reynolds start off in their typical badass default mode-there's a little of both Nick Fury and Jules in Jackson's performance, a sense of a bizarre, slightly warped moral code that slowly bobs to the surface, but the film delivers nigh constantly on what we want to see: Samuel L Bad Motherfucker Jackson being, well, a bad motherfucker. Reynolds for his part is a likable down-on-his-luck bodyguard, who, after the death of a client and the breakup of his relationship with his fiance, is left doing minor protection work for drug addled bankers (an enjoyable cameo from a typically raddled Richard E Grant). After a mole compromises the initial plan to take Kincaid to the Hague to testify against him, Bryce's former fiance demands Bryce steps in to protect Kincaid, and thus the duo are forced to rub along to ensure that Oldman's sinister dictator, Dukhovich is brought to justice.

The film thus spends a decent chunk of time ferrying the dysfunctional duo between England and Holland, through chaotic setpieces punctuated by buddy cop and road movie banter. Why the relationship works so well is the disparate personalities of its two stars-Jackson is flippant, chaotic, an impulsive, and often dangerous man, but because of his spontaenity, and his unpredictability, he's almost unstoppable, and undeniably charming. Reynolds, on the other hand is a stuckeler for rules, has a particular way of carrying out his bodyguard role, and as a result is often overly rigid, and business focused, to the point that it's all but stated this his relationship with his fiance has suffered due to his single-mindedness. Thus, part of the film shows Reynolds and Jackson learning from each other, with both clearly having made a connection by the end of the film-not that this softens their tone towards each other, but one of the final action sequences cements quite how far their relationship has come in their time together.

Action really is the word of this film, from its spectacular "good day going wrong" opening to the chaotic shootout on the streets of Coventry (no, seriously), in which Dukhovich's hired goons mow down Interpol agents, only to discover quite how lethal Kincaid is, to the absolutely bananas race across Amsterdam and the Netherlands in which Jackson and Reynolds engage in chases, gunfights, fisticuffs, crashes, and seem to work their chaotic way through much of the small army Dukhovich has hired to make sure that Kincaid never reaches the Hague. Occasionally, the action does seem a little gratuitous, or seems a little too realistic, with one sequence jarring in the otherwise comedic and comic-book-esque violence due to its visceral nature, but otherwise the humour of the film is apparent even in these sequences.

The rest of the supporting cast, from Oldman's chilling war criminal president, whose visitation upon one of his citizens leading to a brutal execution of his family brings to mind Walken's "Jewhunter" from Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds to his basis in real war criminals such as Mladic and Karadžić. If there is one thing about this character, he is almost too evil and too realistic to throw against the otherwise comedic tone of this film, belying the script's origins in a previously dramatic take on the same subject, hastily retooled. Oldman can clearly do funny, so why not make this character ultimately pathetic, a tinpot president utterly paranoid of going to prison, rather than the overly realistic, if extremely memorable turn that Oldman produces? The rest of the cast are excellent, from the wife of Kincaid, a foul mouthed but clearly loving turn from Salma Hayek, who exudes a toughness every inch as capable as her husband to Élodie Yung playing Reynold's long-suffering former fiancé, and now Interpol agent out of her depth, who proves in the opening scenes that she's just as capable of handling herself as any other character.

There is, overall, an undeniable, almost palpable sense of this film enjoying itself, of enjoying every single action scene it plunges its cast into, not limited to a mad (and mad is the right word here, as I've not seen such an accomplished chase that actually enjoys itself this much since Mad Max Fury Road) a mad dash along the canals of Amsterdam on bike, speedboat and in various cars, multiple shootouts that come close to the bruising, quasi-videogame tone of John Wick, all whilst Jackson and Reynolds shoot quips back and forth at each other. It may well be light on brains but it's a hell of a ride, and the charm of the company more than makes up for it. 

Rating: Recommended.