Parker: Film Review
For diehard fans of Donald E. Westlake, my apologies: I have never, ever read or heard of anything written by the deceased writer. Lest I offend any of his most devoted readers, I must confess that after seeing the filmed version of his beloved crime novels, I am kind of glad that he is dead. For his sake, that is. Because this is one terrible movie.
Things get so jacked up so quickly and thoroughly in Parker that to even attempt to list even a tenth of them would take about an hour. Let’s just put it this way: any action movie in which the hero is forced to wear a handlebar mustache and a ten gallon cowboy hat as a method of actual deception that isn’t meant to be ironic or clever is a joke. And a mirthless, laughless joke at that.
Sadly, that’s what we get in this movie: a man out for revenge who thinks that gangs of bad guys can be outwitted with mustaches that look like they were leftover from The Carol Burnett Show. Erm, ok.
And then there’s Jennifer Lopez. Even after sitting through all 118 minutes of Parker, I have literally no idea what she was doing or saying throughout any of it. She’s supposed to be a reluctant bad lady who signs on to make some quick cash, but there are so many from-the-back butt shots of J.Lo you have to wonder if her bum was stipulated more appearances than her face in her contract. It’s a sad, sexist fall from (something like) grace for what was once a promising career.
She never quite recovered from Gigli. It’s been bomb after bomb for Jenny from the Block ever since. Remember The Back-Up Plan? What To Expect When You’re Expecting? My advice: get a Spanglish sitcom on NBC or stick to judging reality shows. We really can’t take anymore of her film career.