“Killers” is a movie that exists in a parallel universe. It’s profoundly unfunny, and yet the filmmakers seem to labor over its sense of humor, which suggests a belief that someone somewhere would actually be laughing at it. This is not merely misguided; it’s otherworldly, as if the writer, director, and producers have been channeling a plane of existence where audiences don’t require genuinely funny material to be entertained. It doesn’t have much to do with its plot or its action, which are boring and derivative but at least understandably so. No, it has to do with the characters and the dialogue, both so unbelievably strange that it’s difficult to imagine who they were supposed to appeal to. Listening to these people talk is like overhearing a conversation from an altogether different movie. I swear, it’s as if they’re talking in code.
It started with Katherine Heigl, whose character, Jennifer, is neurotic, cautious, easily exasperated, and unendurably chatty. I disliked her as early as her first scene, and that’s bad because there’s nothing inherently unlikeable about her. I had hope that it would end with Jennifer, but alas, it was only the beginning; as the film progressed, I found myself disliking all the people around her, mostly neighbors who have little else to do than be annoying suburban stereotypes. And then there are her parents, given little screen time and developed solely on their quirks. Her father (Tom Selleck) does everything he can to make those around him uncomfortable, as if, in order to be in his presence, one must provide an adequate explanation for why they were born. Her mother (Catherine O’Hara), giddy and overbearing, would benefit from an extended stay at the Betty Ford Clinic.
The plot: While vacationing in Nice with her parents, the recently single Jennifer meets Spencer Aimes (Ashton Kutcher), who’s handsome, charming, and romantic. He also happens to be a CIA agent, which means he’s obligated to drive excessively fast in sleek sports cars. He, of course, neglects to tell her about his profession, and he keeps his secret even when he falls in love with her, apparently because she’s the only real person he’s ever known. Because he loves her, he makes it clear to his boss (Martin Mull) that he’s out of the killing business for good. The boss makes it equally clear that men like Spencer can’t just walk away; they’re killers for life, plain and simple. |