Movie Nation

Golly, talk about a MILF buzzkill.

Not a lot of household names in this “Trashy Housewives Get Kids Killed” drama — Krista Allen, Megan Ward, Amber Frank.

“Party Mom” looks like a “Lifetime Original Movie” with a splash more sex.

“Special” children survived the apocalypse. And now the government fears these “very rare” kid, X-Men and Women by another name.

Keep the expectations low — an August movie doesn’t have the potential to be a blockbuster than a July movie does.

But maybe it’ll break the YA curse and turn out to be a dazzler. “The Darkest Minds” opens Friday.

It’s a rite of passage saga as old as storytelling, as universal as fathers and sons — a son and his father bond over the ancient act of hunting.

But in today’s wired, urbanized world, can it be taken seriously?

In America, maybe not so much as the not-all-bad Netflix comedy “The Legacy of a White Tail Deer Hunter” made clear — or murkily clear.

As in the U.S., if you get far enough away from the big cities, the life lessons offered by such a trip still have resonance. And in Argentina, as in North America, the further South you go, the more likely you are to find it in practice.

“Temporada de Caza” (“Hunting Season”) is an Argentine film that uses this “coming of age” trope as its subtext. But where it goes with it can be surprising, making some of the same points as “White Tail Deer,” but in all earnestness, with much darker undertones.

Nahuel (Lautaro Bettoni) is a spoiled city kid/private school student teetering on the brink of “out of control.” We meet him just as he’s about to spontaneously set off a rugby brawl.

We don’t know what started it. But…rugby.

He’s expelled, and his stepfather (Boy Olmi) has to remove him from school. He’s sympathetic, but emotional. He packs the kid off to the South, to his biological dad. There are papers to be signed and a connection to be renewed.

Nahuel just lost his mother, and the smoking, cursing, fist-fighting punk is pretty touchy about it.

Ernesto (Germán Palacios) isn’t sure about this visit. Maybe that’s why he sits in his battered Toyota pickup at the airport, staring at the kid waiting for him at the entrance. Hours. 

“I had things to do,” he grouses (in Spanish, with English subtitles).

The gauntlet has been tossed, because this kid isn’t having any of his redneck birth-dad’s nonsense.

“He’s not my father,” he snaps at Ernesto’s wife (Pilar Benitex Vivart), who warns him away from “your father’s seat” at the dinner table.

The kid is rude to her, insults the principal at the school he’s supposed to enroll in to finish the year, sneering about having to “mingle with these people,” and Ernesto, something of a rough customer himself, isn’t having it.

Tempers explode as Nahuel disrupts the family dynamic (they have three small girls), skips out to hang with the hip hop happy snowboard punk locals.

Insolent Nahuel and grizzled cabin-dweller Ernesto have to find common ground. In desperation, Ernesto takes the kid out into the snowy hills to learn to shoot.

Ernesto gets the little acne-spotted jerk’s interest. Something about a deadly weapon does that for teenage boys. He’s got to master using the scope, the bolt-action of the rifle.

Maybe they have nothing in common, but as Ernesto leads Nahuel as several of his hunting buddies out to chase away poachers from the national park near where they live, camping and drinking by the campfire might be their thing. Together.

Writer-director Natalia Garagiola presumably doesn’t have a lot of first-hand experience with his in patriarchal Argentina. But she builds a story of pain, grief and miscommunications, a film of snowy vistas and rustic authenticity.

It’s a cliche to show a kid being taught responsibility by making him chop wood, and another cliche is his eschewing the offered gloves as he does it. We all know where that leads.

But using a hand-held camera to capture the moments of action and taking care to add pathos to both man and boy as the story unfolds, she finds something fresh to bring to this hoary story.

With every glimpse at an old video he’s saved on his phone, with every time he snaps at someone mentioning “what you’ve been through,”Bettoni and director Garagiola let us into this reckless kid’s world.

The veteran actor Palacios makes Ernesto’s “tree” to Nahuel’s “apple that doesn’t fall far from it” perfectly credible, a man who isn’t used to communicating feelings, worries and other unmanly subtleties to anybody. He plays Ernesto’s temper, his confidence in the woods and his out-of-his-depth-dealing with a teenager scenes with deft understatement.

The ground they cover here is so over-familiar that even with the odd surprise, the added subtext of a son rejecting who his “father” is, “Hunting Season/Temporada de Caza” isn’t novel enough to make you rethink its genre.

But this film festival favorite has enough ingredients — setting, gritty father-son dynamic, pall of death hanging over it — to warrant a look, “Netflixable” as we say.

MPAA Rating: unrated

Cast: Germán Palacios, Lautaro Bettoni

Credits: Written and directed by Natalia Garagiola . A  Cinetren /Netflix release.

Running time: 1:48

In “The Miseducation of Cameron Post,” the road to gay conversion is paved with good intentions.

Or so those pushing for the conversion tell themselves.

This film, based on the Emily M. Danforth novel, is a faintly-mocking take on something the culture at large might find quaint, the “pray the gay out of you” Christian gay conversion therapy “movement.” And yes, “quaint” is being generous and kind.

It’s a touching coming-of-age tale that remembers that we truly only come of age when we start to know ourselves, and grow the spine to stop letting others define us.

Chloe Grace Moretz is as impressive as ever in the title role, an orphaned teen who has found her first love. And it’s not the prom date her guardian (Kerry Butler) insists “put your arm around her” for their promo photo. The saddest prom since “Carrie” only sparks to life when the girls, who love to dance, all give up on their dates and take over the dance floor.

And the night is made most memorable when Cameron and Coley (Quinn Shephard) crawl into the backseat of a car — and get caught doing it.

That’s what her guardians are whispering to her pastor about. And that’s why Cameron is dropped off at boarding school, God’s Promise, a Christian re-education camp run by cheerful, singing and guitar-playing Pastor Rick (John Gallagher Jr.) and stern Dr. Marsh (Jennifer Ehle).

They wear uniforms. They take classes. And they have cutting group therapy sessions, where Cameron suggests everybody call her “Cam,” like they do back home.

“Cameron is already a masculine name,” Dr. Marsh purrs. “Abbreviating it only exacerbates your gender confusion.”

Dr. Marsh, given a self-confident, no-nonsense “Handmaid’s Tale” smile by Ehle, lectures that “There’s no such thing as homosexuality…Sin is sin…Would we let drug addicts have parades for themselves?”

She’s a regular Nurse Ratched, though the kids won’t know “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

She’s “like having your own Disney villain,” the Lakota kid Adam (Forrest Goodluck of “The Revenant”) cracks. Adam and the girl who goes by Jane Fonda (Sasha Lane of “American Honey”) are thick as thieves — shoplifters, to be more precise. Jane is also an expert at “ditch weed,” wild cultivation of marijuana. Cam is naturally drawn to the rebels.

Whatever the emphasis of the source novel, director Desiree Akhavan (the same-sex romance “Appropriate Behavior” was hers) zeroes in on the oppressive mood of this remote school, the self-policing judgment of the students and the crackpot New Age-Meets-Fundamentalism language of “the cure.”

The adults (Marin Ireland is “conversion” success story Pastor Rick’s colleague and “girlfriend”) declare they’ll do “the detective work,” prodding and questioning each student about the father she “bonded over sports with” or the mother who let him “join in feminine pursuits.”

Each kids draws an “iceberg,” filling in the crucial “evidence” of his or her turn towards “SSA” (same sex attraction) in the part of the iceberg beneath the surface. Akhavan treats all this stuff with a straight (ahem) face.

But when a school outing results in a flat tire on the school van, Akhavan gives away the game with the movie’s funniest moment, “converted” Pastor Rick’s triumphant shock at his first-ever tire change  — “Hey, I DID it!”

The conflicts at school, like everything else there, are suppressed — muted. The melodramatics here are common to “coming out” films, and only rarely does this story take a turn that surprises us.

Still, there’s a dispiriting reality to the day-to-day grind of “hating who I am” and a bracing gusto to the sex scenes (flashbacks, mostly), with Cam and Coley taking their inspiration from that 1980s queer cinema breakthrough, “Desert Hearts.”

And even though the brevity of the film means some characters feel underdeveloped, Woodluck — who played the son in “The Revenant” — steals the picture merely by suggesting a “type.”

“That sounds sarcastic, but it’s not. It’s my genuine voice.”

The triumph of “Miseducation” is how lightly it treads down a well-worn path, how quaint and out of date it makes the attitudes of  early ’90s authority seem to modern eyes.

And that’s precisely the point. Cameron Post takes us from “It gets easier” to “See how much easier it got?” in a heartbeat.

MPAA Rating: unrated, sex, nudity, pot abuse, all involving teens.

Cast: Chloe Grace Moretz, Sasha Lane, John Gallagher Jr., Jennifer Ehle, Marin Ireland, Forrest Goodluck

Credits:Directed by Desiree Akhavan, script by Desiree Akhavan and Cecilia Frugiuele, based on the Emily M. Danforth novel. A FilmRise release.

Running time: 1:31

Disney has an embargo of reviews of “Christopher Robin,” starring Ewen McGregor and a bear “with a very small brain” and a thing for honey.

It’s 7pm Pacific time Thursday, after the movie has opened in the East.

But it’s not as if they haven’t screened it for critics, which is always a dead giveaway. We saw it earlier in the week.

So make what you will of that.

There’s no confusing it for this earlier version of the same sort of tale. But I’ll wait and see how long the embargo holds to post a review.

In any case, I posted this in case you were wondering why there were no reviews up yet. Fox’s “The Darkest Minds?” Well, that’s previewing tonight (Wed.), the night before it opens. And Fox’s embargo is at MIDNIGHT.

Make what you will of that, as well. The idea is “They can’t say we DIDN’T screen the movie for critics,” when in essence, their (Disney’s, especially) embargo has the same effect.

I call this “Embargo Abuse,” as the first “Christopher Robin” showing where I live is at 600 Eastern Daylight Time, Thursday. So nobody going to see it will have reviews to peruse before buying a ticket, thus neutralizing the “consumer advice” part of the movie reviewing profession.

Somebody who does what I do is going to say “To hell with that” tonight or Thursday and publish and roll her or his eyes at this nonsensical “You can’t review the movie until we’ve made all our money on it.”

UPDATED: My review of “Christopher Robin” is here. 

The folks who made “The Spy Who Dumped Me” aren’t previewing that in many markets, but the reviews that are out?

It is August, and what do we generally say about August (not ALL August) movies?

By equal turns hilarious and right on the edge of horrific, “Blindspotting” is a dark comedy as bleak as a given day’s headlines, as goofy as every white guy who ever figured he has a lifetime pass when it comes to using the N-word.
Written by and co-starring friends Tony winner Daveed Diggs of “Hamilton” and Rafael Casal, when it clicks, it’s witty and wise, harrowing and heartbreaking. And even when the effort shows, it’s a marvelous mashup of slacker comedy and drama about violence and its consequences.

Everybody here has blind spots. Collin (Diggs) can’t see his childhood pal, Miles (Casal) as he really is — a loose AK-47 who is a burden on his life. Miles can’t see that his lifetime of acting “hard” doesn’t fit in with his persona as a father and family man in a newly-gentrifying Oakland, where they grew up.

Val (Janina Gavankar) cannot see Collin in his true light after the incident which got him tossed in jail, making him an almost-ex-con (he’s on probation).

And the cops? They can’t see past Collin’s skin color and his braids, see that he’s a By-the-Book Brother with just three days left in his halfway-house probation. He’s a walking, rhyming case of racial profiling waiting to happen.

Miles and Collin work with Commander Movers, and probation or not, Collin’s the responsible one. His ex Val got him the job, a cornerstone of his probation. She’s the clerk who assigns movers to each move, but Collin cannot hit the reset button with her. Nope. No way.

“Collin, just take responsibility for the things happening around you,” Val complains. Collin’s one of those guys things just happen to.

Miles? He’s Eminem and Jay from “Clerks” on steroids, an old school B-boy with the grill, the tattoos and the patter to be down with his homeys, guys Collin would rather not be seen with. Because, you know, probation.

Such as when Miles drags Collin for a ride with Yorkie (Nyambi Nyambi), and it turns out to be a gun sale — a car literally stuffed with pistols, any one of which could stretch Collin’s sentence out to the horizon. Miles needs a piece. To, you know, “protect my family.”

Ashley (Jasmime Cephas Jones) wants their little boy to go to a private school, be bi-lingual, have a head start in life.

“Why he need to be bilingual?” Daddy Miles complains. “He already biracial.”

The yuppies and hipsters are taking over the Oakland these two grew up in, with their house flipping and coffee bars and Priuses and designer glasses and designer coupling, and a good running gag is Miles’ repeated complaint, “Who ARE these people?”

But the best running gag is the contrast between these two. Collin may be rhyming and rocking the braids, but Miles is plainly the “blacker” of the two. Even so, Collin went to jail for an incident that was as much Miles as it was him.

“We got a kind of  a ‘Calvin & Hobbes’ thing going on,” Collin admits to the photographer/gallery owner (Wayne Knight of “Seinfeld”) whom they’re moving.

But Miles’ hustling and Collin’s keeping it on the down low until probation is over moved into the background when Collin witnesses a cop (Ethan Embry) shoot a young unarmed black man in the back.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” doesn’t ever seem to work

As Collin has nightmares where a jury all having the murdered man’s face wants the judge (Embry) to hear Collin’s testimony evidence, while his mom (Margo Hall) passes on pamphlets to Ashley about how to have “The Talk” with her little boy, the one about how you act around police to minimize your chances of getting shot, make Collin snap.

Long before this movie showed us, we and he knew “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” didn’t work.

Director Carlos Lopez Estrada knows to film the quick-cut banter and comic confrontations involving the hustler Miles and those he hustles (Tisha Campbell Martin plays hairdresser Mama Liz) in tight, full-faced close-ups. Close-ups are funny.

And he frames the violent moments and dream sequences in full screen, capturing haunting images of Collin facing the judgment of a court, or jogging past a cemetery confronted by a sea of black faces, many wearing hoodies, by each tombstone.

“Blindspotting” turns on a dime, many dimes, as it bobs and weaves between low farce and high, politically-charged melodrama. The ending is a bit much, but even so we feel the story and the characters have earned it.

Diggs makes a case for better-late-than-never screen stardom, though we may have to do something about that hair. Casal has a future as an over-the-top comic foil, a manic hip hop hipster who cajoles, charms, insults and harms with just a wicked, rapid-fire patter which even The Brothers dig. Because, you know, they “like the bounce.”

A star is born. OK, TWO stars.

And with “Blindspotting,” they’ve announced to the world that they’re a screenwriting duo to be reckoned with, one that pretty much doesn’t have any blind spots of its own.

MPAA Rating: R for language throughout, some brutal violence, sexual references and drug use

Cast: Daveed Diggs, Rafael Casal, Janina Gavankar, Jasmine Cephas Jones, Tisha Campbell-Martin, Ethan Embry

Credits:Directed by Carlos López Estrada, script by .Rafael Casal, Daveed Diggs A Lionsgate release.

Running time: 1:33

Tom Hardy plays a reporter “who found something…really bad.”

It’s “Deadpool” run monstrously amok, a villain’s villain — Jekyll and Hyde and Tom Hardy as the conflicted fellow fighting it out from within.

Oct. 5, we figure out how “We…are Venom” plays out.

It begins with a prayer, a Bosnian woman kissing a medal and asking for someone, “Ya Hafizu” (“the protector”) to “protect me from evil.”

Their Mitsubishi has given out in the woods. Her German boyfriend, Alex, insists their situation is “a piece of cake.”

Selma? She’s got a bad feeling about this.

“I told you the GPS was wrong…I’m not going into that forest. You think we are in some park in Berlin? MINES!”

Selma (Alma Terzic) left here long ago, and the trauma of her return — for a funeral, no less — has Selma experiencing horrific flashbacks. Meeting two rough-hewn locals (in the woods doesn’t help. The Bosnian War left its scars, made her paranoid.

Running into two rough-hewn locals (Aleksander Seksan, Sanin Milavic) just brings it all back. Are they here to help or is it “a trap?”

“The Maus” is a real world thriller with horrific undertones, a tale in which we’re slow to know which version of the narrative to trust. Is it what Alex (Augustine Wittgentstein) insists, this problem is just an inconvenience, these two nice gentlemen are merely helping us out of a literal minefield?

Or is it Selma’s waking nightmare come to pass, with these guys who Muslim-hating  thugs like the ones that tormented her and her family in the late genocidal war?

Filmed in Asturias by  Spanish filmmaker Yayo Herrero, “The Maus” lets us believe what we want to believe, even as Selma’s incantatory repetition of “Ya Hafizu” seems to summon up something in her beyond the mere will to survive — a literal demon in this literal minefield of a forest.

The dialogue — English, and Bosnian and German (with subtitles) — doesn’t clarify enough.

Herrero keeps the camera tight on his star, a Bosnian actress, capturing her rising paranoia and monstrous survival instincts. He stages the violence, much of it underground in a dimly lit cave/command post, in grim close-ups as well, personal age-old race hatred expressed with a knife or an AK-47.

But Herrero doesn’t play fair with showing which version of reality to grasp, which secrets to give up and which treat as delusions. Is this a survival story, or deranged revenge for what happened during The War?

How far will this story drift on past its climax?

We don’t need it all spelled out for us, but for such a seemingly straight-forward tale, the filmmaker, dabbling with horror, still has a lot of explaining to do.

The story he chose to tell is grimly dissatisfying, nothing more.

MPAA Rating: unrated, violence

Cast: Alma Terzic, August Wittgenstein, Aleksander Seksan, Sanin Milavic, Diana Fernández Pérez

Credits: Written and directed by  Yayo Herrero. A FilmFactory/Netflix release.

Running time: 1:35

Nobody goes down quietly in “BuyBust.”

Cops and drug gangsters, enraged slum dwellers fighting to be freed of both, they take their beatings, absorb brass knuckles and bullets, machetes and Molotov cocktails, and refuse to die.

“Adrenalin” pulls them out of the canals where they’ve been held under water, desperation keeps them from giving up on living even as their punches lose their punch and their bodies reach their limit.

The over-long and slow-starting action picture is sort of a Filipino version of “The Raid: Redemption” where the setting is a vast slum and there is no damned redemption.

Set to the beat of the “chick chick chick” of knives jabbing into flesh, it’s a movie where you take the good — long tracking shots through multi-levels of almost non-stop video-game styled mayhem, brutal fights that are more realistic than cinematic — with the half-hearted.

Many a “stage punch” gives itself away, vast volleys of ammunition are expended, but the gunfire isn’t resonant or explosive. And in close quarters, firearms are fired at the ground (no sense injuring actors jammed together in the frame).

Writer-director Erik Matti has made a Duterte era epic of blood and cynicism, a picture that where we’re given heroes but told, scene after scene, not to trust them. And above all, don’t get too attached to anybody.

Manigan (Anne Curtis) is a P-DEA cop training to join a new squad. Her old one? Wiped out. It’s made her cynical, untrusting.

“People DIE following orders, too!” she tells her boss (in Filipino, with English subtitles).

This we figure is foreshadowing that will serve her well when her new squad follows a blunt detective (Lao Rodriguez) into the rabbit warrens of Gracia di Maria, in the brutally tough Tondo section of Manila.

They’ve got a “rabbit,” a drug dealer they’re using as bait to get to Mr. Big — “Biggie Chen.” Just another bust in the country’s ever-evolving, ever-lasting drug war.

But as they wade into the maze of shanties, shacks, food stands and funeral parlors — even a packing crate “club” — of the slum, they fall into a trap.

No cell service, no “back-up,” just a dozen or so officers scrambling to escape underboss Chongki’s (Levi Ignacio) minions, and the equally enraged locals, who just want to be “left alone.”

Matti drops his outgunned and overwhelmed cops into a world of clutter and cover, but no safety. Rickety walls made of cloth, no door that could stop a bullet or a mob pushing to get through it, no wall thick enough to provide protection and no help on the way.

There’s a “Judas” in their midst, and a limited supply of ammo. Fights start as shootouts and devolve into swarming brawls, sometimes with meth’d up and armed gangsters, sometimes with the skinny, over-matched but frenzied poor.

The plot is “Who gets it next?” and who will survive the night, standard action beats seen in Westerns, “Zulu,” “Assault on Precinct 13,” scads of films.

The dialogue (smartly subtitled in yellow) is generic, be the line in English, Filipino/Spanish or a patois blended from all three.

“I’m not LEAVING you!”

Matti packs his police squad with a cross-section of life — a married couple dealing with phone calls from annoying children, cowboys, jaded veterans — all of whom pray the rosary, aloud, on their way to the mission.

I kept looking for signs of fascist art influence on the picture — that glorification of the muscular body, The State, the military institutions, uniforms, common since “Triumph of the Will,” even evident in “300.” But this is a Filipino picture politically in marked contrast with The State.

It’s entirely too long, with pacing issues in the opening and popping up here and there as it progresses. And not every fight is convincing, the action choreography is constrained by the setting.

But “BuyBust” is brimming with life, furiously protected and furiously taken, a bracing introduction of Matti and Filipino cinema to the world.

MPAA Rating: unrated, graphic violence in never-ending supply, drug abuse

Cast: Anne Curtis, Lao Rodriguez, Levi Ignacio

Credits:Directed by Erik Matti, script by Erik Matti and Anton. C. Santamaria. A WellGo release.

Running time: 2:06

He’s fretted in the most public, often comic ways, about his Canadian ancestry, his duty to the Motherland.

So it’s only natural that Ryan Reynolds should make a movie with Atom Egoyan. Who’s more Canadian than that?

And it’s about a father who loses his daughter to a pedophile ring. What’s more Canadian than that?

But “The Captive” is a 2014 mystery in the Egoyan (“Where the Truth Lies,” “Adoration,” “Chloe”) style, cryptic beyond cryptic, not playing fair with clues, plot logic and timelines. Shockingly, nobody saw it.

Cassandra, “Cass,” was an aspiring figure skater. She was good, and landscaper dad (Reynolds) and hotel maid mom (Mirielle Enos) were bursting with pride.

One wintry day’s “pairs” practice skate with her partner goes as well as ever, and Dad stops with her on the way home to pick up a pie at the truck stop. Cass disappears.

Egoyan’s story skips back and forth in time, from the job interview of a hot dog detective (Scott Speedman) who wants to join the pedophile/cyber crime detection unit, to the day he interviews, with his boss (Rosario Dawson), the father (Reynolds) whose daughter disappeared. The cops’ questions accuse the father.

“They’ve taken my daughter, and I want to know what you’re doing to help!”

Dad’s enraged and panic-stricken, but his wife goes berserk when he breaks the news to her, a fury of blame and grief.j

Meanwhile, the captor (veteran heavy Kevin Durand) has video feeds of all sorts of CCTV cameras, even in the hotel rooms Cass’s mom cleans, taunting his hostage even as he’s re-assuring her by letting her see her mother, from time to time.

He’s part of “a whole new class of freaks,” the cops suggest. The monster leaves the girl’s mother clues, over the years — a hairbrush here, a baby tooth (in a jewel box) there — IN the hotel rooms she cleans daily.

In the present, eight years after the kidnapping, Cass (Alexia Fast) is resigned to her fate, reasoning with her captor, “protecting” she thinks, her parents by not trying everything she can think of to escape. She is just a beautiful blonde, playing the piano, wondering if he’s “lost interest” in her “now that I’m all grown up.”

The section chief (Dawson) and her detective are now in a relationship.

The kidnapper works for a big-shot developer (Bruce Greenwood) who also heads a charity that raises money for at-risk kids.

And the father of the victim has lost any faith in the police even though his increasingly frayed wife continues to visit Dawson’s unit boss. Dad has gone off the deep end, sure he’s lost his wife’s love, hellbent on “keeping my eyes open,” certain that he will find his daughter, discover clues on his landscaping treks over Canada’s highways and snow-covered back roads.

In a nutty, illogical and dream-interpretation driven thriller, that’s just the sort of thing that happens.

Dawson makes a convincing, level-headed crusader, testing her new hire’s reaction to child porn on the Internet.

Speedman’s cop is an under-developed “cowboy.”

“Me? I arrest people.”

Enos gives the mom a mania you appreciate, and Reynolds manages both the breakdown and man-taking-action moments he must play with his usual bite and aplomb.

But Egoyan, exercising his passion for melodramatic music in the score, snow in his settings and the ripple effects of a tragedy (Cass’s former partner cannot escape her kidnapping, either) in his stories, refuses to let us connect the dots that must somehow exist only in his mind.

Seriously, if you see the resolution to this coming based on the information the viewer is given by the storyteller, my hat’s off to you.

Only in Canada would an artist this fascinating, home-grown and maniacally uneven continue to draw the subsidies, attention and loyalty from his fellow Canadians, now big Hollywood stars, to get his increasingly unhinged thrillers made.

MPAA Rating: R for language and some violence

Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Rosario Dawson, Scott Speedman, Kevin Durand, Mirielle Enos, Bruce Greenwood

Credits:Directed by Atom Egoyan, script by Atom Egoyan and David Fisher. An eOne/Direct TV release.

Running time: 1:52