Funny and strange nocturnal journey of a precarious upper middle-class Brazillian Faust who finds that it's even easier to make deals when you have a gun. They owned your soul before you even knew it was for sale, but at least they still have your brand of cigarettes.
When Jackie Chan made Rumble in the Bronx, he borderline inexplicably ended it with a big hovercraft chase because someone told him that American audiences prefer vehicular destruction to kung-fu. Someone did this to John Woo too, but instead of "hovercraft", it was "racism".
Woo and Kinnaman are both overqualified for the one note they're required to hit, but despite the gimmick, not one gesture here has as much personality as the part in Die Hard where the Chinese goon…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
An awkward and sweet film, with surprisingly little contemporary political charge, likely because Schrader can probably relate to blowing up a prosperity gospel church or killing yourself on top of a parliament building to make a weird point but not to bog-standard racism. Destined to be remembered as the weak link in a remarkable three film run, but I'm touched that Schrader can finally imagine a life beyond self-punishment for probably his most initially repulsive protagonist; when the obligatory Schraderian…