By: Henry J. Fromage (Six Pack) –
Danny Trejo is 68 years old and in better shape than you’ll ever be in your life. He got intoHollywoodwhen a former San Quentin cellmate and screenwriter decided nobody could prepare Eric Roberts to play a prison brawler quite like a prison brawler. So, when casting a movie about that old dude from the Youtube video who knocked out a punk on a bus, he’s almost too appropriate.
Although, maybe not allegedly racist or verifiably unstable enough
This movie is loosely based on that incident with an emphasis on loosely. In it Trejo returns fromVietnamto find nothing is left for him but a long career as a hot dog vendor. When some white supremacists? hassle an elderly man on a bus, he knocks them out, gaining internet and real-world fame. All is hunky-dory until his old comrade in arms and housemate dies under mysterious circumstances. Trejo, with all his hotdog vendor skills, and angry at a police force that doesn’t seem to care, cracks a mystery that involves USBs, gangsters, Ron Perlman mumbling his way to a paycheck as a mayor, and a side plot with a hot young mother and her foul-mouthed but heartwarming son… god, this is awful.
On the plus side, Trejo sports a clearly fake beard like a boss.
You know that fucker was itchy.
The writing is just godawful. Like, somebody saying “I’ve just been informed the position is filled” in the middle of a job interview awful. Or Danny Trejo wondering into a teen foot square crime scene and immediately finding two massive clues that a whole police team somehow missed awful.
The storytelling is just as bad. You’d have to be some dangerous combination of high on paint thinners and mentally impaired not to be able to stay five steps in front of the plot. Telegraphing hasn’t been abused this much since Samuel Morse’s infamous sexual harassment case.
Dot, dot, dashdashdash indeed.
These screenwriters are convinced they’re clever jokesmiths, but harsh realization is barreling down on them like a runaway freight train. It’s going to be a sad day for them when it hits.
See if you can figure out the point when everybody involved with this production stopped giving a shit. Hint: it looks something like Trejo kicking a 300 pound assassin and his bowler hat/shitting British accent combo through a picture window.
I’m afraid some of the word combinations I’ve been using make this movie sound, well, more badass than it is. It’s not. This is one of those straight-to-DVDers full of CGI blood and “Hey Mom, I just got my diploma from the University of Phoenix Film School!” level editing. Somewhere Uwe Boll is filing a copyright infringement lawsuit.
I love me some Danny Trejo, and I so dearly wanted to enjoy him kicking ass and taking names in this. Guess I’ll have to hold on ‘til Machete 2.