Bad movies aren’t what they used to be. More specifically, bad movies that make it into theaters these days usually have a base level of competence that sets them apart from the bad movies of yesteryear. Dullness dwells where incompetence used to call home. The Raja Gosnells far outnumber the Ed Woods. But every once in a while, a film limps into theaters so stitched together, it’s a wonder it doesn’t rip apart in the projector. Jonah Hex is such a film.
For me, the strangest part of this film was those red-tinged dream sequences, which function as sort of a metaphor: Brolin and Malkovich face off in a dry riverbed, punching and shooting each other, and whoever's getting the upper hand in their chase sequence out in the real world gets the upper hand in the dream fistfight. Which sounds sort of thematically interesting, I guess.
But in practice, it gets bizarrely literal, especially when they're fist-fighting in the real world, too, and the director keeps interrupting the ACTUAL CLIMACTIC ACTION to return to the dream action, where again, whoever's winning the fight in the real world is winning the fight in the dream.
True art is watching hot-chick Megan Fox (as Lilah the hooker) fearlessly staring at the most grotesque side of Jonah’s face as if coming to grips with her own exploitation.
I feel like a 6-year-old having to report how in Toy Story 3 two dolls—Sheriff Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen)—try to save a toy box of childhood playthings from either disuse or imprisonment as donations to a daycare center because their human owner... Besides, Transformers 2 already explored the same plot to greater thrill and opulence.
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