The irony of “Bullet Train” (2022) is that it takes about 20 minutes too long to get to its destination. Not that it’s a bad movie, if you can get beyond the implausibility of a multiple-assassin showdown on Japanese public transit. (And also close your eyes to the increasingly ridiculous violations of the laws of physics.) Hapless Brad Pitt’s Zen-fueled express ride through the valley of death has the same joie de vivre that makes Guy Ritchie’s and Quentin Tarantino’s films darkly absurd instead of darkly grotesque. Unfortunately, it gets to be too talky and twisted, requiring an overlong untangling.
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When you bring home a war movie that stars a professional wrestler, you’re prepared to watch a meathead special. Not so with “The Wall” (2017). About two minutes in, I got the sense this was going to be some kind of throwback drama, like a teleplay from 50 years ago or a short story from even longer ago. (The fact the wrestler doesn’t have a lot of dialogue helps.) An Army Ranger and an Iraqi jihadist square off physically, technologically and psychologically, but the story could have just as easily been set in World War II or the Civil War.