When Steven Seagal is berating Luke Goss for not being entirely forthcoming with mission details and says “I was not born on a fucking turnip truck, man. And I was not born at night. I was born in a bright fucking sunny day, man” he appears to be convinced that what he is saying is making sense, despite his dialogue being a jumble of messed up idioms and forced curse words.

And he is also likewise very convincing when during the only stunts he does himself (walking up some stairs), he has to grab the handrail for support. I was never fearful for big Steve’s health during these scenes though because director Keoni Waxman has worked with him enough times (Absolution, A Good Man, The Keeper) to know to call “cut” immediately after each stair. Continue reading “Killing Salazar (2016)” →

Steven Seagal is a ghost. No, I don’t mean the ethereal kind that’s difficult to see. It’s hard to imagine him waddling down the street with his goofy black ensembles and strange glasses with the orange-colored lens he insists on wearing in all his movies now and not be spotted a mile away.

He’s a ghost in the intelligence community sense that he isn’t supposed to exist. He even tells his police department buddy that he’s supposed to be undercover and when his pal wants to know what he’s doing undercover, Steve rightly responds that it wouldn’t be much of an undercover gig if he went and told him.

But he not only intervenes and kills a stripper’s boyfriend when he’s abusing her, but also just sits around at an outdoor Parisian cafe the next day waiting for her and agreeing to her greedy scheme to steal her dead boyfriend’s drug money. It’s really the sort of thing that makes zero sense anywhere except in a Steven Segal movie, where you would be shocked if it didn’t happen. Continue reading “End of a Gun (2016)” →