A bloody, napalm soaked descent into the libertarian brain. Fuqua evokes 9/11 conspiracies, Jack Ruby and CIA-funded South American coups while having Pena’s naive FBI agent don a Che Guevara shirt while going undercover to unravel a complex plot to frame a badass big dick swinging sniper named Bob Lee Swagger. Kate Mara pops up halfway through with a thick Kentucky accent as Wahlberg’s best friends smokin’ hot widow, who basically exists to have her tits out while Elias Koteas’…
Friedkin on autopilot is kind of fun because he's so technically efficient that he can't help but land at least half the choices he makes but I lost it at how many times he just said "Fuck it, show Tommy surveying his surroundings, then cut to a shot of a muddy footprint." An absolutely solid, minimalist, undeniably goofy early 2000s studio thriller that we never see anymore which makes it a lot more enjoyable now than it might have been in 2003.