Marion Cotillard and Brad Pitt play unconvincing spies who unconvincingly fall in love and move to Hampstead in this unconvincing WWII thriller. Let’s call it Incredulous Basterds.
Again Bad Pitt does a bad accent, only this time it’s not played for laughs. His French is actually supposed to be brilliant, but I watched this film with a French person who couldn’t even understand him. And he’s no more convincing in English, seemingly as bored making this movie as I was watching it.
Jared Harris, Matthew Goode and Simon McBurney also show up, putting the Ham in Hampstead. But they barely feature, whereas Pitt is in every single soporific scene. He and Cotillard have as much chemistry as a geometry lesson, and it’s about as entertaining.
We don’t believe in the characters, their relationship or the scenario, so everything else falls flat. It references Casablanca and aims for Hitchcockian intrigue, but this is a hitch-flop with all the intrigue of an evening spent staring at a wall.
Robert Zemeckis seems aware of the film’s shortcomings, and tries to compensate by crowbarring in a sex scene in a sandstorm and a plane almost crashing into their house for no other reason than nothing exciting has happened yet.
But there’s no salvaging this dreary slog of a movie. It’s the pitts.