Sam Rockwell at his most charismatic as a chipper, dancing, partially-reformed hitman with a heart of gold and a sense of the world’s metaphysical currents, getting chased around New Orleans by Tim Roth in a Southern accent while he attempts to romance the irrepressible Anna Kendrick. (He’s totally honest with her about his lethal side, but of course, she thinks he’s joking — ho, ho!) Those are the good parts, and who knows, maybe they’ll be enough to power you through the bad parts, which include sub-Tarantino tough guy patter (“For now, we wait.” “We wait? Like pussies?” “Yeah, we’re in a big pussy parade.”), idiot baddies driving the plot, cutesy-psycho romantic back-and-forth , hacky plot points (I know! Let’s give one of our assassins a crappy gun for no reason at all!), an unspeakably lazy and annoying post-breakup meltdown from Kendrick at the outset, and a soundtrack that includes both “Dear Future Husband” and “Spirit in the Sky.” Director Paco Cabezas seems technically capable, and manages to make New Orleans look like a place instead of a romantic ideal or ruined cityscape. Better perhaps to put the blame on Max Landis’ overweening screenplay. “Who shoots cake?” indeed. (2016) — Matthew Lickona
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