With their gritty take on a vagabond warrior confronting supernatural forces on the moonlit rooftops and filthy alleyways of the city, relative newcomer Nikhil Bhagat and "Sinister" scribe C. Robert Cargill have come together (along with John Henry "How-the-hell-isn't-this-guy-in-everything?" Whitaker) to bring to life a character and universe begging for a feature adaptation. With the film's combination of "The Book of Eli", "Dark City" and "Léon: The Professional", it's easy to see how such a project could have tremendous potential.
It's a compelling portrait of the glamourless life of God's assassin that uses religious imagery without an overt political agenda. The film tells the tale of a weary soldier nobly resigned to his fate, getting by on what he can find in the trash and carrying out his assignments with a rifle that, much like him, is held together by rags. Though things move quickly, Bhagat lets his scenes breathe. He allows the audience to absorb the film's dingy atmosphere and Whitaker's imposing yet sympathetic presence.
One particularly effective moment features an unbroken take that traps the viewer in the alley as Whitaker's Walker comes to collect his trophy. Though the camera stays firmly planted at a distance, it keeps the audience as a captive throughout the whole process. Bhagat's choice to use minimal audio enhancement instead of a score for the entire ordeal only adds to the impact of the moment. Whitaker's cold efficiency suggests that the brutality we've witnessed is common and familiar to our hero, though the act's questionable necessity makes you wonder how much of this is duty and how and much is revenge.
Though just six and a half minutes, the film raises a lot of questions about the complicated motivations of our gruff-but-engaging protagonist and many concerns about the consequences of his actions. With Cargill's recent successes providing potential opportunity, let's hope he has the desire to go back and give this story the time it deserves. With any luck, this is just an introduction.
It's a compelling portrait of the glamourless life of God's assassin that uses religious imagery without an overt political agenda. The film tells the tale of a weary soldier nobly resigned to his fate, getting by on what he can find in the trash and carrying out his assignments with a rifle that, much like him, is held together by rags. Though things move quickly, Bhagat lets his scenes breathe. He allows the audience to absorb the film's dingy atmosphere and Whitaker's imposing yet sympathetic presence.
One particularly effective moment features an unbroken take that traps the viewer in the alley as Whitaker's Walker comes to collect his trophy. Though the camera stays firmly planted at a distance, it keeps the audience as a captive throughout the whole process. Bhagat's choice to use minimal audio enhancement instead of a score for the entire ordeal only adds to the impact of the moment. Whitaker's cold efficiency suggests that the brutality we've witnessed is common and familiar to our hero, though the act's questionable necessity makes you wonder how much of this is duty and how and much is revenge.
Though just six and a half minutes, the film raises a lot of questions about the complicated motivations of our gruff-but-engaging protagonist and many concerns about the consequences of his actions. With Cargill's recent successes providing potential opportunity, let's hope he has the desire to go back and give this story the time it deserves. With any luck, this is just an introduction.
