Few things are more deflating to a moviegoer like myself than a movie which proves that newer movies like this one are not being made for me.  This stylized, ultra-violent, ironical comedy is clearly made for people who love Quentin Tarantino’s and Martin McDonough’s movies, movies in which people are sliced and diced in inventive manner, whilst those characters speak in hyper-stylized jargon, mixing philosophy and stream-of-consciousness monologues with metaphors of children’s literature and mortality.  Both Tarantino and McDonough have made really good movies, and their best dialogue-heavy, quirky-character-laden bloodlettings actually have things to say or are incredibly entertaining despite their pulp origins.  Bullet Train feels like an imitator of those types of films, emphasizing the worst elements and opting for clever insouciance rather than thoughtful meaning.

David Leitch’s film follows “snatch and grab” agent Ladybug (Brad Pitt) onto a bullet train in Tokyo, heading for Kyoto.  He is to grab a particular briefcase and get off the train.  Complications ensue.  Other agents with names like Prince (Joey King), Lemon (Brian Tyree Henry), Tangerine (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), Wolf (Bad Bunny), Hornet (Zazie Beetz) and, ultimately, White Death (Michael Shannon), all try to prevent Ladybug from his snatching and grabbing.  Mayhem ensues.  People die, violently, and the survivors smile and keep trying to grab the briefcase for themselves or kill each other.

I’ve always maintained that a good movie can be made about anything, or from any source.  And while Bullet Train is certainly stylish and spectacular, it tasks my stated belief.  For I don’t understand its purpose.  Even horror movies, as ugly as they can be, usually have a purpose.  Why does this movie exist?  What about it made these stars commit to its production?  It’s a movie about killing and death and, for a couple of characters, survival.  It’s supposed to be cool, I guess, cool-looking at least, and with lethal assassins who cutely talk about Thomas the Tank Engine or hesitate in dispatching someone just so they can needle him some more before they whack him.  Some fun.

This is the kind of movie that is not made for me.  I didn’t care for Pulp Fiction, the most overrated movie of the 1990s.  Films that imitate Tarantino’s style usually fall far short, either visually or aurally, especially involving dialogue.  Alfred Hitchcock probably started this trend but his satirical movies were at least tasteful and amusing.  How this type of movie ever became acceptable as mainstream entertainment boggles my mind; I felt grungy just watching it.  ☆ 1/2.  5 September 2022.