The reformed criminal Paul Maguire is a businessman in the construction business and happily married with Vanessa Maguire. His sixteen year-old daughter Caitlin Maguire is his pride and joy. One night, Paul and Vanessa go to a dinner party and leave Caitlin with her friends Mike and Evan at home. During the night, his dinner is interrupted by Detective Peter St. John that tells that Caitlin had been kidnapped and her friends are wounded. Paul learns that three criminals had invaded his house and abducted his daughter. Paul meets his friends and former crew, Kane and Danny Doherty, and they unsuccessfully press the smalltime criminals expecting to have news from Caitlin. Soon she is found dead in a park and they see the result of the ballistics indicating that a Russian Tokarev pistol killed Caitlin. Now Paul is haunted by his past and believes that the Russians are seeking revenge. Paul, Kane and Danny start a war against the Russians but no mobster knows any connection of the Russian... Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
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I killed a man, when I was seventeen. Caitlin's age. I got into a fight. Someone handed me a knife. Sometimes I dream about that night. In the dream I see myself, and I try to stop it, but I can't. Then I wake up, and I wonder what would have happened, if no one handed me that knife. What my life, what our lives, might have been.
I'm sorry I let you down.
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This movie is fantastic - honestly, it's shooting up my 'So Bad It's Good' charts with a bullet (badoom-tish!)
I have no idea why Danny Glover's character is in it. Feels like he phoned someone and said, 'I need fifty bucks and I'm free on Sunday. Anything going down?' Peter Stormare, whilst generally good fun in crap flicks, is so utterly miscast it's borderline genius. What's that accent Pete? I can't tell if you mean to sound like a Canadian with palsy, or you were battling some gastro/intestinal thing, but damn bro, you sound pretty crook.
Cage with his helmet or hair or whatever that thing is on his head is brilliant. Injecting heartfelt emotion into scenes that don't need it, screaming in new and obscure ways, playing it cool after trashing 20 corpses and fifty cars, he just injects a well-needed shake-up on traditional acting. Let's be completely inappropriate and flip between ham and wood - hello Oscar!
Script has the bones of something in it, but the director has taken a leaf out of Cage's book here - let's not polish the turd, but rough it up some. Camera-work is just dire, dialogue makes the idea of a four-hour cunnilingus session on an angle grinder sound appealing, and seeing as Glover already took fifty from the budget, it left only another fifty for the rest of the film. And let's not forget such a momentous closing scene. Never have I cheered so hard for Cage. Top work fella, and the right choice.
I can't honestly ask anyone to sit through this utter tosh, but I do know I'll watch it again in the future, with a bottle of vodka in the wee hours, and laugh my ass off.
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