‘Bullet Train’ Film Review: Brad Pitt Caper Comedy Suffers From Terminal Self-Satisfaction
Bullet trains seem great; why don’t we have them in the United States? Will I ever get to see Mount Fuji? I wonder what flavors of Kit Kats they sell on that train?These thoughts occurred because my brain refused to engage with this glib, terminally self-satisfied blood-and-bullets extravaganza, one that feels like it was plucked from what we might call the “Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead” period of American cinema, when Quentin Tarantino’s first two features emboldened far too many young filmmakers to think that they, too, could make a zippy comedy with excessive gunplay, explicit gore, pop-culture references, needle drops, and a briefcase full of cash.Having programmed a film festival from 1995 to 1999, I was subjected to more bad “Reservoir Dogs” wannabes than the average filmgoer, which might explain why this new film turned me off early and never won me back. “Bullet Train” pretty much leaves no cliché of this subgenre unturned, from swoopy, self-conscious camera moves to a shootout scored to an innocuous hit single of the past.