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Three words for you on this movie: Save Your Money. That is, unless you consider nine bucks for a ticket to be money well-spent for the privelege of taking a nap on those oh-so-comfy theatre seats. Cause you're sure not paying for much else.
After seeing The Mexican, I'm at a loss to explain why this movie needed to be over two and a quarter hours long. Nothing ever happens! I kept waiting for some humour, or exciting action, or romance, or, well . . . basically anything. Hell, I woulda taken a UFO hitting Julia Roberts on the head and knocking her out. At least that might have woken me up.
The elements were in place. Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, and the supremely talented and wasted James Gandolfini anchor the cast. There's a storyline involving some neurotic characters, the mob, guns, Mexico, and a kidnapping-hostage situation. There's material, here, people. Why they couldn't make it go anywhere is beyond me.
Julia Roberts' character becomes friends with her kidnapper. Uh, yeah, that's original. Brad Pitt's character has trouble speaking Spanish in Mexico. So what? And would someone care to explain to me the purpose of putting in those reel-style clips about the legend of the pistol? Were they supposed to be funny? Scary? Sad? Either this movie was so brilliant that it went way above my head, or it was just plain dumb. I'm gonna bet on option number two.
There was one good line in the movie: "Guns don't kill people, postal workers kill people". There, now that you've read it, I just did you a gigantic favour, cause there's no other reason to go see this disaster they call a movie.
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