Shitman

I was tempted to stop the review right there, Spinal Tap-style, but a few more words must be said. Those words are: do not, under any circumstances, see Hitman.

Timothy Olyphant, good in pretty much everything else he's ever been in, is not in this. He plays the titular Hitman, a killer with neither a name nor conscience - just a tattoo on the back of his bald head indicating the number an order of monks that trains assassins branded him with. I'm basically skipping over the fact that there is, apparently, an order of monks that trains assassins because the movie does, too. I guess we're supposed to have memorized the videogames the movie's based on for it to make any sense. Or at least to explain why Olyphant shambles like an improperly assembled mannequin thru most of the flick.

The plot feels hastily tossed together by a member of the target audience, which I presume are frustrated fifteen year olds. Hitman kills some guys. Turns out one of the guys is a double of another guy. Other Hitmen try to kill Hitman but he talks them into dying with dignity, so they don't shoot him - instead opting to get sworded to death. Some chick wants to have sex with Hitman but he doesn't, because he's so cool. Hitman kills some more guys. Hitman kills a lot more guys. One guy traps Hitman in a chair, but a helicopter flies by and shoots everything up. Hitman escapes, goes back to nail that chick, and stands on a building to look cool. With a gun. 'Cause he's Hitman.

I mean Shitman. Pass.