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This chaotic action comedy mostly plays like the script was written on a discarded cockroach from a smoke joint, but the likability of the cast more than makes up for it. WWE Champion-turned-actor John Cena, who always seems to know how weird he looks with his bulging torso and tiny thighs, stars as soldier-turned-lawyer-family man Mason Pettits. Having never gotten over the trauma of a failed mission in the fictional Latin American nation of Paldonia, Mason nurses a sense of failure that undermines his marriage to his wife Jenny (Alice Eve, wasted in the role) as they try to raise a small daughter (Molly McCann) together.
One day, ex-comrade Sebastian (Christian Slater, just passing through), who now runs a security company, offers Mason a one-time job protecting journalist Claire Wellington (Alison Brie, always a treat) on a trip to autocrat-ruled Paldonia. Although she’s mostly known for doing fluffy celebrity interviews, Claire manages to get a chance to interview Paldonia’s lovely president Venegas (Juan Pablo Raba, appropriately sinister). But with Mason, Claire and Venegas on their way to the palace, the coup attempt requires Mason to defend with extreme force. Soon, dozens of extras are covered in fake blood as squibs explode and cars skyrocket, resulting in a death rate reminiscent of the kind of 90s soft action comedies that Arnold Schwarzenegger specialized in. The difference is that Cena, while more cartoonish in appearance, has a more distinct comic timing than Arnie, and these days it’s not considered a stretch to poke a little fun at Bree’s character, who reveals that they’ve both read Hanna Arendt on the roots of fascism.
That said, the film’s cynicism about developing-nation politics is pretty sad, and about as believable as the suggestion that Venegas’ ice-white double-breasted suit with gold buttons positioned just above his nipples might be secretly armored. The trio’s enemies never seem able, for all their firepower, to shoot straight enough to graze one of the leads with a bullet, while the gender dynamic isn’t terribly progressive. Claire is allowed some credibility as a journalist, but she spends most of the film either staring at Mason’s muscles or shrieking in agony as chaos erupts around her. Bree actually sounds like a pig who isn’t sure if he’s being slaughtered or in a porn movie. Even so, the package as a whole, with its sun-bleached palette and color correction that makes its blues pop, is reasonably entertaining, perfectly suited for airplane viewing as you fly to your next vacation destination.
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