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One of the many problems The Lone Ranger faces is that it doesn't feel modern. The Wild West that audiences have begun to again embrace with films like True Grit and Django Unchained thrive not because of their niche western setting but because of their steadily unique voice. In a genre where everything has been done before, they divided and conquered simply by doing something audiences haven't seen before.
In The Lone Ranger, everything feels retread, tired, and ready to boot. As a winking tribute of sorts, it works to an extent, but tonally it's stretched like an old rubber band ready to snap. The souring riff on the noble savage, played with tone-deaf readiness by Hollywood's favorite eccentric, Johnny Depp, is off-putting, head-scratching, mildly offensive and entirely dated. The kitschy elements of the 1930s icon could have been celebrated and preserved, even in light of a modernized overhaul, but instead director Gore Verbinski and go-to cohort Johnny Depp have gone for broke and come up with bags of sand.
Blu-rays of the Week
"The Heat"
Directed by Paul Feig
Starring Melissa McCarthy, Sandra Bullock, Demián Bichir, Marlon Wayans, Michael Rapaport, Thomas F. Wilson, Tony Hale, Kaitlin Olson
Action, Comedy, Crime
117 Mins
R
After working on television series such as The Office, Weeds and Bored to Death, director Paul Feig emerged as a voice for a very particular brand of female comedy with Bridesmaids that has extended somewhat over into The Heat, but the ruse is up. Attempting to subvert status quo, Feig has executed a whitewash rebranding of the female comedy, collapsing gender norms and racial stereotypes into a generic mass so indistinct and overextending that it'll be a miracle if he hasn't set back the female comedy 20 years. While there are genuine moments of laugh-out-loud comedy to be had throughout, the female buddy cop angle is overdone and coated in a saccharine glaze. Top that off with a ceaseless dose of broad and overbearing comedy, a total of exactly 190 useless f-bombs and "action" situations so fantastical that the sense of stakes melts in your mouth like a filet mignon and you have a film just beating you over the head with a dead fish to the point of surrender.