A bald lug is sitting in the living room while his girlfriend applies war paint in the bathroom. It’s the first scene in Scars and had this reviewer immediately thinking, well, since he’s scowling in a white undershirt, it’s damn-near inevitable that he’s gonna ask her to fetch him a beer.
And another inevitability: the bottle clunked across his dumb pate.
Right off the bat, it’s WWE-telegraphed, down to the silly “LOVE / HATE” knuckle tattoos. Forget Captain Obvious, we’re gonna need a Lieutenant Colonel Obvious for this one.
And that’s a shame, as the premise isn’t bad: an abused punk-rock chick Scar teams up with a chiseling preppy blackmailer Scarlett to exact revenge on menfolk (as the poster tagline has it, “killing dudes is easy…”*)
Scarlett has been scamming married men, threatening to expose them to their wives/employers if they don’t fork over a few thousand bucks a month. Her “dates” are frequently as unsympathetic as possible — conspiratorial, Bush-loving, alpha types. A dull, obvious conceit that detracts from the drama and Scarlett’s reticence to fully join in with Scar as far the killing is concerned.
The terrible twosome meet when things with one gent, post-date, get out of hand in a Toronto back-alley. Scar leaps out and stabs the guy (very unconvincingly). The girls are from opposite sides of the tracks, the latter a stockbroker the former a street girl, and things spiral from there, in what the box blurb erroneously describes as an “all-girl version of Natural Born Killers.”
What it does have in common with that Oliver Stone production is a Message with a capital M, hammered home with the subtlety of a tunnel boring machine.
“Important” geo-political background discussions nearly drown out dialogue.
There are numerous (and tedious) black cuts, spotty performances, and the credits linger on “a film by Sean K Robb” for longer than necessary, considering he also gets writer and director credit.
[*Editors’ note: The premise that it’s easier to kill men because their disappearance is treated more casually than it is for women is ludicrous as the men marked for death here are married and likely have kids. It’s not like they’re single loners nobody would miss. And when it boils down to it, the “easiest” people to kill, as the real-life tragedy of the Highway of Tears has brutally shown us, is women on the margins].
*1/2 (out of 5)