Thomas McIntyre

Ooh. Just saw this last night. Sorry. A real stinker. Maybe I'm missing something, but I won't be seeing it again. Blood. Sweat. Explosions. Car crashes. No actual characters, only "types." Poor Ms. Davis. No director has managed to avoid turning her expression of unfathomable grief into an all-too-fathomable vacuity. We've come to expect better from Mssrs Duvall and Neesen, and it's hard not to notice flashes of regret on their faces - regret for having climbed aboard such a creaky vehicle. In a "what this movie is about" moment, Ms. Davis' character explains to her female posse that now's their chance to show what they're made of, by acting like men. (??). I can imagine a team of writers reaching an impasse and declaring a truce: "We'll leave in your idiotic dialogue if I can leave in mine." Sad, sad.