imdb-5596

I rented this by accident, instead of the film of the same name with Mads Mikkelsen. I didn't realise this until after watching it though so took it at face value. I do enjoy this genre so I just thought I'd ordered it on purpose.

It's not great. It has elements of Hostel, Running Man, Hunger Games, amongst others and an odd back story around a porn writer. The latter was hard to follow and I never fully figured out what he did or was trying to do. This didn't seem to matter though as once the main plot kicked in it became irrelevant. It was visually pretty good, surprisingly so for an obviously low budget film. The action was pretty good too and there was a sense of drama and tension. However the grizzly graphic violence went wildly beyond anything required for the plot or artistic value. I'm not averse to violent films and it can give a sense of the true horror of a situation, however in The Hunt all we got was more and more hideous body parts and blood.

It was hard to sympathise with the only proper character and the others were pretty empty. By the end - I won't give it away in case you still want to watch it - I had little interest left. It was only on trying to figure out why I had rented this film that I discovered its poor reviews. Not really worth watching, to be honest. At least it's short.

There are a large number of gushing reviews on here and it was enough to fool me into watching this film. I think they're written largely by Eastwood's many fans, in honour of his remarkable career, and not really for this film. This review is to plead with you not to watch it.

The plot is implausible. The characters are one dimensional, silly stereotypes. The dialogue is lame - no-one talks like that! - some hilarious one-liners but this was because the language was so poorly researched and unlikely. Oh, here's satirical character Ali G - oh no I'm sorry, that's supposed to be a serious character. The racial stereotyping is so superficial I felt like I was watching a script written by a nine-year-old. The continuity gaffs are relentless, blatant, almost wilful. The whole thing looked like a children's made-for-TV adventure, of the sort they show around 4pm on a weekday, but pepped-up with graphic violence and lots of blood.

Then there's the actors. We all love Eastwood and you have hundreds of reviews of just him, he's OK in this. But the rest - I think they happened to be hanging around in Burger King one day and got swept up in a big Eastwood fun bus to go in his movie. That priest - no Catholic or any other priest can be as dumb as that. He's a lost character from Father Ted, and I felt an overwhelming urge to punch him every time he came on screen. Everyone else mumbles through their lines as if in a school play, particularly Thao. Sue is the exception, a giddy fairy-girl fresh from Disneyland, gabbling over her long words, as if reading a card in a call-centre, attempting to sound sophisticated.

But by far the most painful was the indulgence in Themes. Like a particularly dire concept album, Gran Torino takes on every big theme going and blunders around loudly in it. Catholicism, forgiveness, sacrifice, confession? Yeah we can take that, simples! Racism, social division, cultural alienation, yeah we can handle that. Coming of age? No-one's ever made a film about that, let's do it! Isolation of the elderly and infirm, terminal illness? Overseas wars and the burden felt by veterans? Revenge? Death? None of these profound facets of life are too tough, or warrant more than the most superficial thought before Eastwood wades in and sorts it with some guns.

Oddly, the one topic the makers may have been able to handle, and which I was naively quite looking forward to - classic American cars - was left untouched. I learnt nothing about the GT, what it stands for, its cultural significance or even why they bothered to include it. The Fast and The Furious, for example, is intellectual by comparison. And 8 Mile taught me more about Detroit.

Also, not that this matters, but the DVD extras were really dumb. Some flimsy interviews with the cast and crew on the topic "aren't cars great?". *Two separate films* with the same people saying the same stuff. No thought whatsoever went into this. And the closing credits - Jamie Cullum co-writing with Eastwood - caps it all. Just don't do it. Go watch "Unforgiven" again, really, you should do that instead.

Maybe this film works if you're American - all I can tell is that I'm British, and it didn't work for me. I think you'd have to be a real die-hard Eastwood fan to enjoy it.

First to the good points of this film. I will never really understand why Robin Williams continues to make films like this because he's superb. Particularly as a troubled villain, which I guess is what he's supposed to be here. Williams was the only high point for me and he earns my two stars on his own.

The bad points however go on and on. Where can I start? Characters. None of the characters are convincing, or have a plausible background to make them what they are. None of them develop in any credible way. Most if not all are clichés, parodies of something better. None has any depth or subtlety.

Premise. The premise is just too silly. I understand that we need to suspend disbelief to get the most out of fiction. This is too contrived, though. No serious effort is made to win us over to believe even enough to engage with the film.

Plot. The plot is irritatingly predictable and has more holes than anything I've seen or read in years. It's feels gratuitous, too - why make us wonder about these petty things when we already have to swallow the implausible premise?

Visuals. Nothing of note, nothing to see here. As dull as ditch water. Perhaps more importantly, the soundtrack is terrible. To engage with the premise I think the viewer needs to be inspired by the music, but we were all cringing. It was so very cheesy, and had no edge or charisma. The painful attack on Van Morrison - why was this necessary? So many have succeeded here but for some reason the studio indulged Rhys Meyers' own hash at it. Worst of all though is what I can only describe as a naff fusion of orchestra and American-Irish rock. Surely this silly notion has been done to death, but we are asked to buy it as an expression of how together and how brilliant the characters are.

But it goes on. Hollywood often relishes Irish stereotypes but we all but see Rhys Meyers in a Leprechaun outfit Riverdancing around an enormous pint of Guinness chirping "to be sure to be sure". If any other aspect of the film had worked this kind of stuff would have broken the spell. The nonsense of slapping the guitar, always conveniently in open tuning. Why? That cheesy "pick of destiny" moment. The saccharine rainbow of musical urchins. And tarnishing the glorious memory of Don't Look Now. Like most films this was too long, but the last 40 minutes felt literally like hours.

Under the skin of all of this seem to be frothing hormones boiling over, a coo-cooing around a romantic notion of the child and above all a total absence of editorial control over whoever's idea this was.

Film fans will find nothing to see here. Don't waste your time, there's paint drying somewhere which you could be watching instead,