Ryan Gosling finally gets his own superhero-y film in the Russo brothers’ big-budget Netflix actioner, “The Gray Man,” but it can’t seem to serve his strengths or itself. Gosling is, at heart, an uber-charming, good-looking, quirky rascal who can really act, and “The Gray Man” tries to square peg him into the virtuous strong, silent type who can’t help but sneak a few quips in. It’s a movie that hedges its bets and wants to eat its cake, too—the raw, visceral qualities of a lone wolf assassin movie and the righteous superhero morality elements that are more palatable but really incongruous (but hey, we wanna franchise this baby, right?) Sometimes “The Gray Man” wants to be the grittier version of Michael Mann’stake on a James Bond film, but it veers off course and goes a little too Marvel (broad), even a little “Fast and Furious” (silly) when the fierce action becomes a little too overblown.
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While the action can be taut and engrossing at times, “The Gray Man,” written by the Russo’s Marvel buds Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, ultimately feels like a movie we’ve seen a dozen times before. Worse, it’s also one that misguidedly tries to reframe a ruthless assassin and hitman as a killer with a heart of gold. The saving grace of the movie is Chris Evans, who plays a delicious psychopath who steals the movie from everyone and enlivens every scene he’s in. He’s a treat to watch—shame about everyone else.
The same cannot be said for Regé-Jean Page and Jessica Henwick, who have the ignominious honor of playing humorless, one-note CIA agents who glower, glare, and make VERY SERIOUS threats to everyone they seethe or bark orders at.
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“The Gray Man” plot is pretty rote and familiar. Gosling plays Court Gentry, aka Sierra Six, a CIA mercenary known for his brutal skills and kill count. But when an op goes sideways, and he inadvertently uncovers dark agency secrets connected to the very stern and grim CIA lead Denny Carmichael (Page), he quickly gets a target painted on his back. Afraid of what secrets will be let loose under the guise of national security concerns, Carmichael unleashes psychopathic former colleague Lloyd Hansen (Evans) and his band of international assassins to hunt Gentry down to clean up a potential CIA scandal.
From there, it’s basically one non-stop set piece after another, generally involving Gosling and his sidekick and fellow mercenary Dani Miranda (Ana de Armas, in a largely thankless role), but with a few character detours planted along the way. These flashback-y subplots—generally involving Gosling’s CIA mentor and original recruiter Donald Fitzroy (Billy Bob Thornton) and his daughter (Julia Butters)—are generally carefully calculated but overplay their hand, scenes that want to tip the scales of your empathy towards Gosling and help you conveniently overlook that he’s been a merciless assassin. Dozens of action movies do this, and there’s really nothing wrong with it, but the way this movie stops its momentum cold to rewind and not-so-casually remind you that Gosling’s killer is actually a mensch is pretty inelegant and dubious.
Other than a few inventive and expensive set pieces the Russos craft—some terrific, others overcooked—“The Gray Man” doesn’t hold a lot of surprises, nor goes into any unexpected territory, which is perhaps the cost of making a film with a $200 million budget that’s supposed to appeal to a lot of people. Still, even most of the Russo’s Marvel movies, ‘Winter Solider,’ ‘Civil War’ and ‘Infinity War,’ in particular, are more interesting and more engaging, their strengths often making compelling arguments about heroism.
The joy of “The Gray Man,” if there is any, is watching Evans play against type. To project a little bit, maybe speculate, and hell, even armchair psychoanalyze a few things he has said, Evans seems like a curious actor trapped in a leading man’s body sick of playing nice guys. After a decade-plus of appearing as Captain America in the Marvel movies (made by the Russos, ironically), a role he was very good at, mind you, every opportunity Evans has received to do something different—like Rian Johnson’s “Knives Out,” where he played a spectacular douchebag—he relishes and makes a serious meal of.
Given a similar opportunity here—a terrifically volatile jackass and sadist with a huge insecure chip on his shoulder about Gosling’s character’s seemingly superior reputation—Evans shines once again, bringing delightful, humorous charms to a malevolently glib personality. Evans outshines everyone and gives the movie a wonderfully light touch as this constantly agitated and unpredictable psycho. His character might be indicative of the movie’s confused tone, however. Half the time, “The Gray Man” is so desperate to impress with its action, that it comes off as self-serious and humorless. Then, when those sequences are handled and done, it tries to be goofy and entertaining with Evans and his impulsiveness, and it never quite works. The balance of heart, humor, and spectacle the Russos perfected during their Marvel tenure seems to have gotten lost in the extremes, and it doesn’t help that the script and characters feel very generic.
While it has its moments, a few good laughs, a few impressive thriller sequences, and Evans with his delectably douchey little trash stash, “The Gray Man” is generally an unremarkable swing and miss that wants the best of both worlds, but can’t really thread that needle. The Gray Man it titled as such because he’s supposed to be a stark, ascetic, anonymous killer, inconspicuous enough to never be noticed and silently dispense his targets. Gosling’s character is essentially meant to be personality-less and invisible, but while flat and dull at first, the filmmakers eventually can’t resist trying to edge that character towards the superheroic, the morally upright good guy who rights wrongs. This initial assassin archetype is Michael Mann-ian in its initial shape—the man, his code, and his unwavering commitment to it (or even Jean-Pierre Melville’s “Le Samouraï”), but it all quickly becomes a slicker shopping mall version of it all. By quickly coloring outside those genre lines, slapping on action that’s too frenetic and undisciplined, cool pop music, and glib gags, the Russos quickly prove you can’t have it both ways when you try to have it every way possible. [C-]