Great, another Steven Spielberg film about some real historical event that goes on for about 90 minutes longer than it takes the average moviegoer's ass to become completely and undeniably numb.
Eric Bana plays Avner, an Israeli intelligence operative so cool he only needs one name. Well, not really. In fact, this guy is kind of a pussy. It's a well known fact that all secret operatives must be badasses, no exceptions. They need to be able to eat small kittens and shit out bricks of kitty litter without so much as a flinch. Well, Avner is no such superman. He's quite the ordinary guy, you see. He has a wife, a child on the way, and a conscience. When 11 of his countrymen get murdered at the 1972 Olympic Games, and his country asks him, as a soldier, to hop surreptitiously around Europe eliminating those responsible for the attacks, he immediately has reservations. He ends up accepting the mission, of course (you don't just give the finger to the Mossad), but that doesn't mean he doesn't question every single life he takes, goshdangit!
So, let the killing begin! Right? Action, explosions, death? Right?
Well, sorta. Once the movie hits Europe, the lame actually sets in. As Avner and his ragtag team of misfits hunt down each terrorist target, we're first treated to a 5-10 minute scene of each target doing something humane and goodnatured, like reading poetry to Italians or kissing his young child or porking his hot mistress. You see, these folks may be evil beings linked to the unnecessary deaths of a dozen innocent Olympic athletes, but by God, they're human beings too!! Blah blah blah. One serving isn't bad, but getting forcefed this crap over another hour or so gets to be incredibly patronizing and insulting.
The action comes in spurts, and not nearly often enough to keep you from getting heavy eyelids, but when it does, it's eye-catching. Violence is graphically depicted, and explosions are pretty fun to watch, including one that just about owns Eric Bana. Haha. The movie slows down a lot near the end, where Avner develops a nasty case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and flagrant paranoia, then bangs his wife. The end.
There, I just saved you nearly 3 hours of your life.
(Munich is rated R for rare scenes of intense violence, Dutch ta-tas and hoo-has, soporific dialogue, and flagrant terrorist offing) |
