Jonah Hex

Hex hears dead-people, and who gives a Horton?

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The H-Bomb: There seems to be some kind of consensus that thus far this summer movie season has, for the most part, been dull, dreary, and lackluster. Sadly, the release of “Jonah Hex” is going to do very little to buck that trend. As a comic book action western, it’s about as dull, dreary, and lackluster as they come. All this despite the impressive cast (well… impressive on paper, anyway), loud action, and flashy direction.

The last time, at least that I can think of, that Hollywood tried to make a summer blockbuster out of the western genre, they ended up with the truly abominable Will Smith turd sucker “Wild Wild West”. “Jonah Hex” is marginally better, but that’s kind of like saying that drinking cat piss is preferable to eating dog shit… neither is very appetizing.

What’s it about? Please, stop me when this sounds clichéd (no, seriously, please do stop me). “Jonah Hex” tells the oh so original story of a scarred Civil War vet named… you guessed it, Jonah Hex, who has made it his mission to track down the dastardly Quentin Turnbull (John Malkovich), the man who murdered his wife and son. But, unfortunately for our hero, fate steps in reins in his revenge.

So, now a man without a mission, Hex becomes a fearsome, famed bounty hunter who can speak to the dead (don’t ask). But unbeknownst to Hex, a new cretin is plotting to get a hold of some super cannon dubbed a “Nation Killer” that he plans to level Washington D.C. with during the celebration of the U.S.’s Centennial. Now it’s up to our charred faced, ghost whispering anti-hero to try and stop the plan.  Do I really need to tell you where it goes from there?

From beginning to end, this is the epitome of “been there, done that.” Despite all the over the top gun-play, violence (the PG-13, spatter-free variety, naturally), and shit blowing up in every direction, the movie is just a plodding, predictable 80 minutes of sheer boredom. It was one of those rare films where I found myself glancing at my watch periodically just to see how much longer it would drag on. It’s not a slow movie, it’s just curiously devoid of any kind of a pulse.

Jimmy Hayward (whose previous directing credit was “Horton Hears a Who”) over does it behind the camera and directs the thing like a music video, throwing in all sorts of wild visuals, including animation, in a desperate attempt to breathe some sort of life, any sort of life, into this D.O.A., flatter than a pancake script. He failed.  If Horton heard this who, he’d hang himself with his own trunk.

In fact, not only was the director short changed by the script, but so was the cast. This is particularly true of Josh Brolin. As we’ve seen in recent years, he’s a helluva good actor, and even though he’s no Clint Eastwood, he’s got the grizzled look and the gruff voice, and he could’ve been great in this role, if only he had the material to back him up.

Malkovich, one of modern cinema’s best go to bad guys, is a real disappointment here. He wears his boredom on his sleeve and phones in his performance completely. He looks like he’d rather be stuck in a traffic jam on a hot summer afternoon in a car with no A/C than be anywhere near this movie set.

Megan Fox, as the whore with the heart of gold (for Jonah, at least), is shown prominently on the posters and in the TV spots, but in reality she’s barely in the film at all! If I added up every single moment of her screen time, it would probably only amount to about ten minutes, if that much. I must admit, though, I can think of worse things to stare at than her sweaty, working girl cleavage, which the movie did display in generous amounts. For that I am grateful.

Other somewhat familiar faces (Wes Bentley, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Michael Shannon) pop up briefly throughout the picture, but they’re given so little to do that I wonder why they even bothered to show up.  In fact, I wonder why anybody who worked on this movie in any capacity bothered to show up, given the limp dick results of their labor.

Now, this isn’t a terrible film. It’s not, “Oh my God, this horrid shit bomb is gonna make me slit my fucking wrists” bad, it’s just really not that good, and there are certainly better ways to put your ten bucks to use, such as; donating it to the Salvation Army, or using it as toilet paper, or giving it to an alcoholic vagrant so he can go get tanked up… anything. Because despite all the bangs and booms and bams that this flick provides, it’s ultimately nothing but a tired action yarn that is never even remotely exciting nor suspenseful. It could probably make a decent rental someday… maybe. But only if you’re really, really bored.