‘Freelance’ review: A tired mash-up of action romances

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

It’s never a good thing when the blooper reel running over a movie’s credits demonstrates more energy, humor and charisma than the preceding two hours, which is unfortunately the case with Pierre Morel’s “action-comedy” “Freelance.”

It isn’t until the credits roll that we see a bit of spark from the usually delightful Alison Brie, or evidence that John Cena can riff. There is also a telltale clue in these bloopers as well, a green-screen studio shot with a bit of foliage dangling in the corner of the frame as Juan Pablo Raba mugs for the camera, which explains why so many exterior shots look so uncanny. Finally, everything about “Freelance” starts to make sense — or does it make even less sense?

The confounding, bizarre and punishingly dull “Freelance” isn’t really a comedy (there are no jokes, even if Cena delivers his lines as if they are), and while there is some action, nothing ever gets the blood pumping. But it looks and sounds like an action-comedy, in the vein of “The Lost City” (a man with huge arms and an intelligent brunette escape murderers in the jungle), which was, of course, made in the mold of “Romancing the Stone.” But the script, by Jacob Lentz, clearly wanted to be more of a serious political commentary before it was shaped to fit the capabilities of its stars.

Cena stars as Mason Pettits, whom we get to know in a series of POV shots in the opening credits. A rambunctious kid who just wants to help people, he ends up going the traditional route and becoming a lawyer and getting married, before he gives it up for boot camp and a tour in the Special Forces. A tragic incident in the fictional South American country of Paldonia leaves him injured and grieving, and he’s grounded back in the suburbs with his wife (Alice Eve) and kid, working as an attorney and battling suburban ennui.

He’s called back up by his buddy Sebastian (Christian Slater) for a private security gig for disgraced journalist Claire Wellington (Brie), who is trying to get back on her feet with a coveted interview with Paldonian President Venegas (Raba). On the outs with his family, Mason jumps at the chance. If you can’t see the mid-film reveal coming a mile away, it’s time to watch more movies.

This is all the tortured setup to get to where we’re going: Cena and Brie dashing through the jungle under heavy artillery fire, courtesy of a conveniently timed military coup. Cena and Brie (and Raba) sweatily arguing in the jungle with occasional gun battles, that’s why we’re all here right?

This brightly-lit film is laden with overused tropes but light on energy and charm. There’s the Latin Lover, President Venegas with blindingly white teeth to match his crisp white suit, and the Sultry Journalist, a career-mad woman who will stop at nothing for her scoop d’etat, except for maybe a roll in the hay with whichever man is sleeping closest to her. There’s the bad guy (Martin Csokas) who details all of his past wrongdoings to the hero while in the middle of a brawl.

Undergirding all of this is a surprisingly cynical political story about the outsize influence of global corporate entities in South America, the exploitation of natural resources in vulnerable countries and optically driven political machinations in the vein of “Wag the Dog.” It feels like Lentz’s script could have been something far darker and more savagely satirical (perhaps a mash-up of Chris Pine’s “The Contractor” and the Sandra Bullock vehicle “Our Brand Is Crisis”), but instead, “Freelance” is an incredibly goofy jumble of tones, flailing about as it overstays its welcome. There’s no need to hire this contractor.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.