Bul­let to the Head

Hot on the heels of Arnold’s Grand Day Out, Sylvester Stal­lone gives it his mus­cu­lar, mum­bling best in this sham­bol­ic pop­corn fren­zy from has-been action direc­tor Wal­ter Hill.

Though Stallone’s name is giv­en top-billing the real star here is Jason Momoa, bril­liant and crim­i­nal­ly under­used as the gran­ite-jawed thorn in our hero’s side. Look­ing like a mean­er, slight­ly less wardrobe shy descen­dant of Khal Dro­go, Momoa’s Kee­gan is an exem­plary movie vil­lain – a scowl­ing, hulk­ing shit­bag who incurs the wrath of Stallone’s gnarled New Orleans hit­man, Jim­my Bobo (yup…), after a dive bar dou­ble-cross­ing leaves his part­ner toe-tagged.

Based on the com­ic minis­eries ​‘Du Plomb Dans La Tete’ by French graph­ic nov­el­ist Matz, Bul­let To The Head promis­es testos­terone-charged bud­dy-movie spills in the vein of Hill’s 48 Hrs. and Red Heat, but deliv­ers bland set pieces and cringe­wor­thy ban­ter between Bobo and Sung Kang’s Kore­an-Amer­i­can ​“smart­phone cop” Tay­lor Kwon.

Is Stal­lone get­ting more casu­al­ly racist with age? Or has bet­ter script­ing allowed him to get away with drop­ping the occa­sion­al xeno­pho­bic zinger in the past? Either way, there’s noth­ing fun­ny about lines like, ​“Why don’t you go read some tea leaves?” and ​“Whad­dya gonna do, bring out some kung fu from the home­land?” – espe­cial­ly when they’re drib­bled out by an anti­quat­ed, incom­pre­hen­si­ble old sod. Memo to Sly: it’s time to get with the pro­gramme and drop the stereo­typ­ing schtick.

That small but sig­nif­i­cant griev­ance aside, this thug­gish man flick has few sav­ing graces. Throw togeth­er a need­less­ly con­vo­lut­ed plot con­cern­ing dodgy land deal­ings and a mani­a­cal African war lord, a fid­gety cameo from a wired Chris­t­ian Slater and a truck-load of paint-by-num­bers mer­ce­nary heav­ies, and you’re left with an over­sea­soned and under­cooked slab of action-com­e­dy apple pie.