'War Machine' review: Sci-fi actioner forces Alan Ritchson to rage against everything

Netflix

Make some noise if you're excited for the cringeworthy spinoff targeted at Gen Alpha, which follows the adventures of 67. And make more noise if you're excited for the nice, sexy spinoff that follows 69. In the meantime, we shall stake out War Machine. Alan Ritchson stars as "81" (you can also call him Big Dude™), a number that is a reference to the identifier this unnamed protagonist rocks on his military outfit. In honour of his dead brother, 81 signs up for the toughest army program of them all so he could earn a spot as a ranger in a task force that is used for the most difficult missions. He makes his way to the final test, which would weed out the last few weak links remaining. However, a brutal, otherworldly machine turns up whilst the test is going on. 81 and his team soon find out that the machine is not part of the training and they must fight back in order to have a chance of staying alive.

Directed by Patrick Hughes, who also co-wrote the screenplay alongside James Beaufort from a story by Hughes, the sci-fi action barrage isn't here to rewrite the rules of the aforementioned genre. It wears its sales pitch (a.k.a heavy influences) on its sleeve, merely hoping that Ritchson, the vibes and technical execution will lift it up above other action fare out there. War Machine clears its own physical exams initially, although in a strictly sufficient way and not in a way that'll get your hopes too high. Ritchson is indeed very watchable in this sort of nameless-tank-of-a-human role, no one else in the cast is dropping the ball either necessarily, Hughes' direction is sturdy enough and the macho energy isn't always overly obnoxious. The thrills arrive at a steady pace once the merciless antagonist is fully introduced and the story chugs along nicely so the pacing isn't a problem whatsoever.

Aside from 81, the characters don't leave much of an impression—Stephan James plays "7", Dennis Quaid (as Sheridan) and Esai Morales (Torres) show up as forgettable higher-ups—so the bloodshed doesn't poke your emotions. But at least the technical side keeps you somewhat engaged. There are some cool stunts and action choreography including one river scene and another one later featuring a vehicle. The visual effects (supervised by Ray McIntyre Jr.) are handsomely produced and ignoring the cold open, which was apparently graded with slightly dehydrated midday pee, the film looks decent overall for what it is. However, you should not expect to be leaning forward at any point since the dialogue can be pretty dumb, exposition-heavy and generic oftentimes, plus composer Dmitri Golovko's score is essentially just using "action thriller 101" arrangements and production techniques the entire runtime.

The movie is perfectly fine for the longest time, and it'd be easy to be lenient considering it's escapist entertainment for dads, but that is until the final 15-minute stretch, which is utterly mindless, incomprehensible and, frankly, embarrassing. Tone-deaf wouldn't be an incorrect summary either. It's so bad that it'll be hard to recommend War Machine to anyone who respects themselves. Even terrible dads deserve better once they come back with the cigs they went out to buy a decade ago.

Smileys: None

Frowneys: Ending

When you see one of those machines, your number is up.

2.0/5

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