Hobo with a Shotgun

I don't know what it is about titles like this, but there's some base, self-punishing part of me that won't let me pass this kind of thing by without taking a look. I know it's likely to be bad in almost all departments, and will possess little in the way of merit, but – well, there you go – some people sit alone in their bedrooms cutting up their legs with razor blades, I subject myself to worthless trash like this when the other half's gone to bed.

Hobo with a Shotgun isn't a complete loss. Rutger Hauer – looking pretty grizzled and weather-beaten these days – is pretty good in the title role; the use of saturated colour gives the film a fresh, original look that's deliberately at odds with the subject matter; and a few key scenes shine like diamonds in a pile of manure, but the filmmakers have no idea about when the time is right to take a step back so that we can lift our heads and take a breath for a moment before being submerged once more in their foul world of violence and gore.

Excess for its own sake is a pretty juvenile practice, so anyone over the age of twenty-five will probably be turned off by this.