Their partnership is baseline compelling but mostly flat, its moments of comedic tension fizzling out quickly – the exasperated Man from Toronto calls Teddy a “whiny little mosquito”, Teddy whines and generally flails about, both somehow survive a tangle with other trained assassins, repeat.
Harrelson and Hart’s dauntless assassin/guileless impersonator buddy routine works less well here than, say, Hart and The Rock’s “Xtreme Laurel and Hardy” coupling in 2016’s Central Intelligence or Jumanji. Teddy and The Man from Toronto, dispatched again by his shady handler (Ellen Barkin, also with too little screen time), begrudgingly pair up to finish a mission that remains vague and unconvincing throughout. A suave FBI agent looks after Lori and her boozy friend Maggie (Kaley Cuoco, making the most of her 2.5 scenes) in a jealousy side-plot that goes nowhere. (Teddy’s phone was … right there.) His so-bad-it’s-good performance as an extractor works, and soon the FBI has recruited Teddy to impersonate the Man in a sting operation to snag a Venezuelan crime lord, or something. Still, I need to mention again that this story hinges on, of all things, a printer – Teddy plans a birthday retreat in coastal Virginia for Lori and prints the cabin reservation details, but because he’s too absent-minded and cheap to replace the toner (?!), he misreads the address and accidentally intercepts Toronto Man’s next hit.
#Hitman 2 background movie#
That plot is also dumb, which would not be a huge problem if this movie were fun. Which is fine – Harrelson seemingly having a good time and not taking himself too seriously is the film’s most redeeming quality, his hitman with a heart of gold (who clams up around women) shtick occasionally leavening the dull, meaningless plot. Said hitman is Harrelson’s Man from Toronto, a knife-wielding cowboy assassin who sounds exactly like Woody Harrelson – as in, not at all Canadian, nor particularly menacing. Whatever, because Teddy is also, of course, charming and so clueless as to bumble his way into playing an international hitman. He’s the type of guy who forgets to list an address and phone number on flyers for his gym or to re-up on toner for the printer – two plot points that feel oddly outdated for a caper set in 2022.
Teddy is a scrappy, hapless hustler, a failed fitness influencer/entrepreneur (seven likes on one video, we’re told) who struggles to be present for his wife Lori (Jasmine Mathews, in an unrewarding bit part). With Teddy, Hart, a dependable if unimaginative box office staple, continues the comedy tradition of playing an alter ego who is significantly less competent, ambitious and successful than themselves. It’s the film version of contactless boxing, protagonist Teddy Jackson’s much-maligned and pitiable business plan that gets him fired from his local gym in one of the film’s early scenes.
Netflix has, arguably to its own detriment, cornered the market on big-budget throwaway films, and The Man from Toronto, from Australian director Patrick Hughes, is brawn and bustling action with no bruise, no staying power. The unceremonious streaming dump makes sense.
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