Hitman : Agent 47

What can I say, Rupert Friend is a great actor, but no matter what he does, he can't get into the skin of the bald killer. The cringy lines he has to say, and above all, the far-fetched script serve as his excuse. The widely loathed Skip Woods has always seemed to me more than a skillful writer, because I still enjoy the first installment to this day and I have a weakness for X-Men Origins: Wolverine. But here, in partnership with Michael Finch, those micro sci-fi elements from the game series are taken shamefully far beyond the bearable limit, and they make fools of themselves with the various plotholes, B-movie twists, or an invincible villain. In such misery, trademarks like rubber duckies or unnecessary (yet completely unnecessary for the plot) disguises won't help, nor will unnecessarily overblown (and therefore fatally un-Hitman-like) action. The second star is out of pity for Rupert Friend and Zachary Quinto, but the third time around I would rather not risk a similar experience. Agent 47 deserves anything but film hell. (16/04/2017)

This movie wants to be close to the game itself, but then Hitman is played by an actor with the longest “hair” on his head (that Agent 47 ever had) and with the charisma of a hamster in a nightgown. (08/08/2016)

Lately, I simply like similar action movies. It has a charge, in this case, it is beautifully cruel in some places, and the overall graphic design is very good. There are also no lack of ideas here that really enliven the plot. For example, that airplane turbine was great. It's not something amazing, but it entertained me wonderfully for that one evening. (10/11/2015)

Once upon a time, someone in Hollywood makes a major decision one day that screws up a legendary franchise. Everyone is holding their heads, from the audience to the angry investors, so he decides to make another one eight years later. This time, he also brought back the original screenwriter. Not only does he not learn from past mistakes, but he definitively castrates the brand, rapes it, sets it on fire, urinates on it, buries it, and then spits on the grave a few more times. Apart from the red tie and the number on the back of his head, there is nothing left but tearful eyes. This is because there's a newbie roaming around who doesn't have the slightest idea of how to handle action, give it rhythm, or, for God's sake, have an original idea. The model situation is the ending on the white staircase when the western strings are strummed, but the shooting is like in a drunken southern dive. What's the use? Thirty-five million has been paid and the retardation will continue two years later. No thanks. (17/11/2015)