Excruciatingly contrived and ridiculously dull, "Passion Play" has zero excitement and even less amusement value. Screenwriter-turned-director Mitch Glazer oversees a filmic reverie of insincere tropes that posture themselves as magic realism for someone unclear on the concept. There's a witless artificially here that leaks with feigned sincerity and juvenile romantic logic. Mickey Rourke is unwatchable as Nate Poole, the phoniest aging hipster trumpeter you could ever imagine. White athletic socks fill out Nate's wardrobe he wears to stripper joint gigs. He also wears them to his date with death in the middle of a desert after sleeping with a mobster's wife. A cavalry of white-clad Indians come to Nate's aid so he can lead the audience through a waking dream of romantic illusions involving a winged angel named Lily (played with high school acting chops by Megan Fox). Bill Murray sullies his once-spotless resume as a smartass gangster named Happy Shannon. Happy gets the no-brainer idea to take Lily for his own after Nate tries to sell her down the river to him. The film's hackneyed tagline, "Love is stronger than death" doesn't mean much for an infuriatingly dumb little movie you should demand a refund for if you make the mistake of paying to see it. Graham Parker once said, "passion is no ordinary word." Here it's worth less than dirt.
TrackBack URL for this entry:
Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Passion Play: