‘The Misfits’ Review: Blood and Sand

“The Misfits,” Renny Harlin’s 25th film, unfolds primarily within the Middle East, however don’t anticipate its tone and temperament to vary appreciably from its predecessors. Insouciant as ever, Harlin merely does his personal factor, location be damned. He’s the honey badger of cinema.

His titular band of Robin Hood-style criminals is at the very least a various bunch, comprising a droll financial institution robber (Nick Cannon), a fire-loving explosives knowledgeable (Mike Angelo), a lithe martial artist (Jamie Chung) and a cool con man (Rami Jaber). To enact their newest heist — a cache of gold bars buried deep inside an Abu Dhabi jail and earmarked for terrorists — the Misfits want the graceful abilities of Pace (Pierce Brosnan), a gentleman thief and latest maximum-security escapee.

Pace is much from on board with the staff’s vaguely altruistic plans for the loot, however he and Schultz (Tim Roth), the jail’s shady proprietor, have unresolved historical past. Also, his estranged daughter (Hermione Corfield), one more Misfit, is hanging round to remind him of his humanitarian responsibility to refugees and different downtrodden. I didn’t make that up.

Equally insulting to Arabic dialects and the Muslim Brotherhood, “The Misfits” is inarguably terrible, its grandiose muddle of a plot unimproved by bored camels and barely clothed girls. Yet for the primary 20 minutes or so — a blitz of eye sweet and ear worms — its breezy motion and the performers’ good cheer are sufficient to entertain. Too quickly, although, the film drifts into narrative doldrums that derail its momentum and drain the forged’s power.

“Oh, bollocks,” Schultz mutters resignedly when he sees his gold is gone. Like the film, he appears virtually too drained to care.

The Misfits
Rated R for mass vomiting and a bloody cellphone assault. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. In theaters.