This film lies among a pantheon of enjoyable but potentially problematic entertainments, like Animal House and 300. Your average middle-aged white family man Nobody has no special assassination skills, isn’t adept at wetwork, and cannot take down a Russian mob by himself … and shouldn’t be encouraged to pretend he can, even if he owns several guns. This is what happens when mediocre white guys let their imaginations get away from themselves. It’s fun … but just be careful.
Neither the bane of the cyclops Polyphemus nor the bane of bi-cyclops Crystal Gayle, Hutch Mansell (Bob Odenkirk) is just an ordinary Nobody. That’s right, isn’t it? The title seems to have nailed him perfectly. He has an average life and a mediocre dead-end middle-management job. His (very) young daughter respects him, but his wife and teenage son kinda don’t. He’s not a bad guy; he’s not a good guy. He’s just kind of a Nobody.
Things change when the family home gets broken into. Two burglars are present, only one is armed, and Hutch –wielding a golf club- has the drop on the other when he chooses not to engage. His son takes a fist to the jaw as a result of the inaction. Hutch comes off looking wimpy; most men –even unarmed- would probably have tried a little harder to defend family and home. All we can think is: “you let them get away with that?!” In the aftermath, Hutch has a very rough time reconnecting with wife and son for obvious reason.
When the daughter’s bracelet turns up missing, Hutch forgets his lingering malaise and decides to go after the criminals. Recognizing some unique ink, Hutch visits a tattoo parlor and is about to get his ass handed
to him when one of his would-be bullies eyes a Hutch tattoo, loses his spine and hides without a fight. Was that warranted? I mean, you’re kidding, right?
Two scenes later, a frustrated and depressed Hutch is on the back of city bus suddenly infested with mobspawn. The substance-abusing, overindulged, knife-bearing testaments to toxic masculinity are determined to make the trip a living Hell for the few occupants of the bus, and just when we think we’ve pegged our hero, he pushes the driver out, shuts the door, and decides to take on five twentysomething punks at once with the phrase, “I’m gonna fuck you up.”
And he does … not without taking a fair amount of damage himself … and returning for more (?) Huh; this is a different film than the one I was seeing. Where did this come from? Who is this Nobody? And geez, now there’s actually a choice for “best interior bus fight” in 2021 film. What’s up with that? As a viewer, I’m almost offended… hey! What’s going on here? Was there a scene I missed? Did our Nobody make a chrysalis at some point and emerge an ass-kicker? This can’t be the same guy who wussed out during the home robbery, can it?
So after starting out in drudging fashion, Nobody became quite a watch. The final reel will invite comparisons to both John Wick and Home Alone, but –as you’ll note- there are far worse films to be compared to. Color me both surprised and delighted; Nobody was much, much better film than I anticipated. Maybe I was wrong about Bob Odenkirk; maybe he’s not such a Nobody after all.
The mob went about manhood testing
When they found a respondent arresting
Proving quite a feat
A Russian defeat
Without even the slightest divesting
Rated R, 92 Minutes
Director: Ilya Naishuller
Writer: Derek Kolstad
Genre: Empowering mediocre white men
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Men who opted for fatherhood ahead of personal pursuits
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: People who fear those who take this seriously
