I won’t bore you with the plot of this sinking turd because I’m not suicidal enough to try and remember what I’ve just endured, and anyway you’ve seen it all before, many, many times before, so many times before you’ll be wondering bloody hell am I watching some Mark Kermode presented rundown highlights reel of all the inane thrillers in history? You have seen it all before you have started so all that remains are questions. Lots. Of. Questions.

Such as, WHO IN GOEBBELS’ WET DREAM COMMISSIONED AND APPROVED THIS MULTIFARIOUS DISASTER? What the hell are Ryan Quisling, Captain America, Ana deCamera and the old fella who shagged Angelina Jolie doing in this unholy pile of Pegasus’ manure? You can hang Jesus Christ sideways with how much The Russo brothers have dropped a fetid, human log on their legacy with this patchwork atrocity. As for the writing, how did this script even get past a first reader? Who was the 3rd reader, Helen Keller with her fingers chopped off?

Which Executive said “Guys! Let’s make a really terrible version of Bourne, then throw in a maze and rip off the Gladiator stab scene at sunrise.”

Not only can’t I get those two long hours back, never mind the blighted hopes and dashed dreams I have had all day since Netflix casually emailed me with ‘Dan, we’ve just added a film you might like’ Like? LIKE? I now despise all who work for thee! I should charge you for making me watching this. Where’s MY £15.99 a month lads? Netflix should be bankrupted for churning out movies like this. (And you soon will be, oh you will….)

The Gray Man? My bald bonce just sprouted hair just so it could turn grey in anger at my choice of viewing. I’m not hungry – how can one eat after just having one’s alcohol flayed bowels ripped out by this Saville-like oddity – but I’ve ordered a som tum papaya salad with five ground chillies in it just to rub the juice in my eyes and wash away the horrors that have beseeched my visual orbs. And to think that Kevin Costner wasn’t even anywhere near this crazed case of athlete’s foot on a hobbit’s gonad. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPROVED BY BULL DURHAM ON A JETSKI.

The fight choreography of The Gobbled Man is Bruce Lee-tastic though, and the action scenes contained the only vestige of muscular intelligence this ‘movie by Akkadian numbers’ could muster. And, admittedly, this boy does love a good multi – location movie so he can catch a sulky glimpse at all the posh parts of those twee European cities he’ll never get to see in person, mostly thanks to Ryanair’s demand for one vital organ per suitcase, so I give it 1/10, and that’s with rounding up.

(All this in the same week I’ve seen Target Number One, which is a Bobby Dazzler of a film, watch that instead of The Garroted Man.)





By DJ MC Vey

I won’t bore you with the plot of this sinking turd because I’m not suicidal enough to try and remember what I’ve just endured

Source: @Agbofilms

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