Day Thirty-two - Wild Target, or "Poor Rupert Grint."

You know, this is a cute premise.

Why? Because I love Leon (the Professional). There's just something about a cold-blooded killer taking an interest in his target and finding a protege that is appealing. They're fun concepts. Especially when the target is Emily Blunt. Not so especially when the protege is a sort of cardboard cutout of Rupert Grint.

The story centers of Bill Nighy (who should be the main focus of the above movie poster, by the way) who is the best of the best of the best of assassins... at least in England, anyway. Possibly France. Anywho, we are introduced to his boring but fact-paced life as he takes a few lives establishing his character.

He's sharp, he's refined. He even has a mild sense of mercy.

But then we meet Emily Blunt's conwoman, who has just cheated Rupert Everett out of almost a million quid via art forgery. She's quick, sexy, and a free spirit, deftly swiping anything that fancies her from anyone... from orange juice off a cafe table to flowers from the market.

Of course, Nighy is hired to kill Blunt... but he hesitates... and, thusly, we have a movie.

Rupert Grint comes in at that point, a skint stoner who manages to save both their lives from Everett's two hired thugs when Nighy misses his window, but he's just a minor plot foil for the entirety of the film it seems. He smokes, he says something naive, he smiles/panics depending on the context of the situation.

Still, a bit of a disappointment there. Both Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson have managed to distinguish themselves a bit post Harry Potter with fairly decent roles in The Woman in Black and My Week With Marilyn respectively. Rupert? Not so much. There was a lookalike in X-Men: First Class a while back, but it wasn't him. More's the pity.

The film is darkly comic and relatively fun, but has way too many plotholes to overcome.

This is especially the case when it comes to Blunt's extremely strange second act turn where she falls for Nighy after a foot rub. Now, far be it from me to denounce the mood enhancing benefits of a good massage, but to completely go all googly-eyed overnight?

Then there's Rupert Everett, who ends up in a hospital bed in the middle of the film... and then is forgotten for the rest of the feature. Where is his comeuppance? I mean, really? It's as if he just passed the torch to Martin Freeman (who plays a competing hitman) upon his entrance and just said, "screw it, movie. I'm done."

Which brings us to our next disappointment... Martin Freeman. A great actor in many respects, this just felt phoned-in. The only good thing I could find in the performance was his creepy smile. Everything else would've been better off with a generic no-name.

Bleh.

It's funny. I'm being so negative about the film, but it's still relatively fun. It's no Leon, that's for blood sure, but it is cute... a well intentioned failure, at least.

I cannot say I recommend it, but I wouldn't go out of my way to stop someone from watching it.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~