I look at my watch constantly. Mike walks out twice. Every sign of life seems extinguished by earnestness. Even the presence of Christophe Waltz and Udo Kier can’t rattle the film out of its complacency. I love Matt Damon. But there’s not an ounce of excitement on offer. How is the film well intentioned? How do those intentions achieve the opposite of what they intend.  How might the love interest played by Hong Chau come of as stereotypical bordering on racist? We discuss whether this is the most boring film of the year. Certainly it’s no more than nursery food for the brain.

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With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.