Ravenous ‘Wolfs’ is starving for substance
There was a time when the pairing of George Clooney and Brad Pitt generated “Ocean’s” of joy. Now the rising tide of age and flimsy material has sunk their “epitome of cool” beneath the waves of a sea of mustn’t-see Apple-Plus TV. Sure, there’s some of that old black magic on display in the mangy “Wolfs,” but what “Spider-Man” writer-director Jon Watts feeds them is equivalent to stale kibble.
Cliched doesn’t begin to describe the contrived antics of Clooney and Pitt as Watts’ ridiculous tale of rival “cleaners” grows messier and more convoluted. Nothing about it is organic. And that includes the clunky, wise-ass banter between Clooney and Pitts’ nameless characters, summoned separately to the penthouse of Manhattan’s swankiest hotel to fetch the corpse of a young ne’er-do-well trysting with the city’s prominent district attorney.
If word of her illicit dalliance leaked, the D.A. (Amy Ryan) would surely be ruined, as would the reputation of the establishment where the kid met his end. So, in a cockeyed way, it makes sense that the D.A. dials up her fixer, known only as “Margaret’s Man” (Clooney), and the surveilling hotelier summons hers, code-named Pam’s Man (Pitt). You’d think two is better than one in this situation but not when each insists on working alone.
One suspects Watts believed the setup to be a uniquely clever one. It’s not. And that’s evident from the moment the two alphas meet and start marking their territory with a combination of piss and vinegar. They think they hate each other. But we know better because we’ve seen this movie dozens of times before. And 99 out of 100 times the adversaries end up being pals. No different here. The problem is that it takes nearly two hours to consummate a bromance we saw coming from the get-go.
Watts wrongly insists his characters first prove they’re worthy of one another via an all-night escapade involving five bricks of heroin, a goofy mule referred to only as “The Kid” (a blah Austin Abrams), and dual ambushes staged by angry gangs of Albanians and Croatians. “Who are those guys,” indeed? They certainly aren’t Butch and Sundance, as much as Watts would like them to be, right down to the final scene of the two going out with guns blazing.
Sadly, we’re not in Bolivia anymore. We’re in a state of cinematic limbo, caught somewhere between tedium and fading star power. No doubt Clooney and Pitt pack plenty of charisma, but whatever chemistry they used to possess is now reduced to fumes, placing them on a par with an aged rock band rotely revisiting its greatest hits. It’s kinda sad, but somehow oddly welcome, in that you love these two guys and what they used to be. But as much as you root for them to recapture the good ol’ days, it ain’t happening.
They are aware of it, too, as evidenced by a lethargy revealing their lack of commitment to Watts’ poorly constructed script. It’s all over the place, beginning in a swank hotel room before progressing to a sleepy Chinatown party venue, a lively wedding reception and an inexplicable drop-in on “The Kid’s” Sinatra-obsessed dad (Richard Kind). In between, we’re “treated” to a couple of drawn-out chases and a shoot-out that makes “Scarface” look like a paintball game.
What does it all mean? If Watts knows, he’s not letting on. I have a hunch it has something to do with two loners discovering the brief gratification of an unexpected friendship. If so, the sentiment is buried under tons of artifice and cacophony. He keeps teasing us with promises of intense action and hilarity. It takes a while, but you eventually grow wise to Watts and realize all he is doing with “Wolfs” is crying … well, you know.
Movie review
Wolfs
Rated: R for some violent content and language throughout
Cast: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Austin Abrams, Amy Ryan and Poorna Jagannathan
Director: Jon Watts
Writer: Jon Watts
Runtime: 108 minutes
Where: In theaters now and on Apple TV+ beginning Sept. 27
Grade: C+
