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I Didn’t Watch The Hitman’s Bodyguard

I Didn’t Watch The Hitman’s Bodyguard

There’s a lot of movies and TV out there, so a person could hardly be blamed for missing some of it. But I refuse to let that keep me from reviewing the things I Didn’t Watch. The Hitman’s Bodyguard was not showing at the theater ten blocks from my house so I didn’t go see

There’s a lot of movies and TV out there, so a person could hardly be blamed for missing some of it. But I refuse to let that keep me from reviewing the things I Didn’t Watch.

The Hitman’s Bodyguard was not showing at the theater ten blocks from my house so I didn’t go see it. It also doesn’t help that the theater ten blocks from my house was torn down over a decade ago and is now a Burlington Coat Factory. Probably goes without saying, but this is not a proper venue for filmgoing. The cashiers never know where the ticket booth is, it’s way way too bright in there, there’s no seating, and no movie screens or projectors.

Possibly one of the worst movie theaters ever built.

Anyway, The Hitman’s Bodyguard stars Samuel L. Jackson and Ryan Gosling and was released by what I assume was 20th Century Fox. It is the first film in the 9-part “Hitman’s Bodyguard” saga, based on a single sentence written by Elmore Leonard on a men’s bathroom stall door. Honestly, I was pretty skeptical that the movie could possibly live up to the source material, which I also haven’t read.

The Hitman’s Bodyguard opens as the camera pans over racks and racks of coats. Samuel L. Jackson, playing himself in the role he was born to play, is frantically looking through these racks. We learn through a voiceover from Bob Saget that Samuel L. Jackson is looking for a new coat to wear to the 81st Annual Hitman’s Charity Ball. An hour later, Jackson finishes the last rack in the store and slumps to the ground, weeping uncontrollably.

This is when Ryan Gosling shows up. He plays Ryan Reynolds, who we’re told by a voiceover from Ron Howard is a down-on-his-luck, hard-bitten, anti-social, alcoholic, womanizing, ex-cop, ex-detective, ex-security guard with an incredibly self-destructive personality and literally no marketable skills. However, he is completely bulletproof. Swords, we’re told, are still a problem.

With one hand pulling the cigarette from his mouth, the other tenderly lands on Jackson’s shoulder. “Let me be your bodyguard,” Gosling breathlessly whispers, as we cut to a close-up of his lips. Jackson, still in tears, responds: “Bitch, I need a motherfucking coat.”

This scene repeats itself several times throughout the movie. Jackson goes to another coat store, can’t find the right coat, Gosling approaches him and is rebuffed. The voiceovers from Bob Saget and Ron Howard gradually become more and more confrontational until the two are literally screaming at each other as the camera slowly zooms in on a conspicuously quadruple-breasted sportcoat. This sportcoat, which I assumed to be important at the time (the movie lingers on it for a staggering 19 minutes) just turns out to be inhabited by the angry spirit of one of Gosling’s former partners, but we never see or hear from it again. Seemed like a wasted opportunity to me.

Eventually, Ryan Gosling staggers home, defeated, completely drunk from alcohol. He has smoked an entire carton of cigarettes in the past 27 minutes (the cigarettes were tracked on-screen in red, blinking text). He tosses an unopened package of bacon into a skillet and sets the burner to high before stripping down to his ascot. “I am contemplating suicide!” he screams, fists shaking above his head.

We smash-cut to him calmly eating Kentucky Fried Chicken at his dining table with a knife and fork. Bob Saget and Ron Howard now stand to either side of him, glaring at the camera. The credits begin to roll as this scene plays out.

A scene that was in the trailer with a different actor playing the role of Ryan Reynolds.

I’ll be honest, I was pretty pissed. The guy behind me in the Burlington Coat Factory however, said that it was fucking brilliant even as he tweeted out that it was fucking brilliant while Instagramming himself tweeting it was fucking brilliant with another phone. By the time I finished punching him to death, the credits had finished.

Samuel L. Jackson’s head emerged from the bucket of chicken and he sensually moaned, “I want you to be my bodyguard.” We don’t get to see Ryan Gosling’s reaction. Or at least I didn’t, because security removed me from the building at that point.

I am no longer allowed in Burlington Coat Factory, which is fine, because they are shitty movie theaters. The other guy wasn’t actually dead, which is…unfortunate. As for The Hitman’s Bodyguard, what I just made up about it sounds pretty terrible now that I’m re-reading it. I wouldn’t go see that movie, and neither should you.

Alex Rhoades
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