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David L.G. Hughes
A Courier (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) is tasked with delivering a package to a crime boss (Mickey Rourke) thought to be dead. Hilarity ensues.
"Yeah, I Watched This Movie". That's the attitude I had when "The Courier" reached its conclusion. We have seen this type of movie before, often, and we have had more fun at the expense of a larger budget. But like so many other movies nowadays, we feel a bit let-down when the screen goes black.
Jeffrey Dean Morgan, an exceptional actor who never seems to be the right fit for his character, does the best he can with what he has. His character wakes up in a crummy apartment infested with mice. He uses superglue to fix a nasty cut. Yet despite all this self-loathing, he has good friends and family that he cares about. What's with that?
The female lead is bizarre. Her hairstyle makes it appear as if her follicles are desperate to escape from her scalp, and considering how bad it is, I can't blame it for trying. She also has an unnecessary dubbing-over occasionally when she speaks. Perhaps they shot the film and forgot to record her at places.
Mickey Rourke and Til Schweiger, the other draws on the cover, are under and wrongly used. Rourke's head is only visible for the first half of his scenes, the latter's introduction is corny. Schweiger's bodyguard hasn't ever seemed to have used a fire arm before, let alone in a movie.
An odd assortment of has-beens and ne'er-do-wells fill out the rest of the cast. Lily Taylor and Miguel Ferrer play a Team Rocket type pair of villains who never say much besides grunts and gunshots. Mark Margolis, the definitive "that guy!" of actors plays Morgan's dad, or something. I'll give you one guess as to his fate.
"Yeah, I Watched That Movie." That is what I will say to people when they ask if I have seen "The Courier". And it might take me a minute to remember exactly what they are talking about.
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