This could have been a much funnier movie. The script doesn't have enough 'edge', the direction lacks punch; Bill Nighy's ageing assassin is a bit too glum, Rupert Grint's homeless 'disciple' is too much like his Harry Potter character, and Emily Blunt's light-fingered fraudster is too much like one of those annoying kids with whom the Soaps are currently over-populated. Eileen Atkins's machine-gun-toting wheelchair-bound matriarch is gloriously reminiscent of Shelley Winters in Bloody Mama 40 years ago. The slow-burning romance between Bill and Emily is not only unconvincing but more than a little creepy.
Wild Target is like a creaky old Norman Wisdom vehicle tarted up with a bit of violence and profanity for a modern audience. However, I did laugh out loud a half-dozen times, which is six more than a lot of TV sitcoms earn.
Wild Target is like a creaky old Norman Wisdom vehicle tarted up with a bit of violence and profanity for a modern audience. However, I did laugh out loud a half-dozen times, which is six more than a lot of TV sitcoms earn.