Have you ever wanted to see Colin Farrell and John Malkovich in a brutal mano a mano? Or Jessica Chastain beat up a French killer in a Boston park after dark, or get into a catfight with fierce nightclub-cum-gambling-den owner Joan Chen?
Ava, directed by Tate Taylor (The Help, Ma), gives you all that and more. And yet despite those obvious highlights, it’s hard to recommend Ava as a whole.
The action scenes are often flat, and Chastain’s top-class assassin character and her family and colleagues are burdened with so many dramatic backstories — Alcoholism!
Drugs! Daddy issues! A jilted lover now engaged to her sibling! —that the whole exercise starts to feel more than faintly ridiculous even before the first act is over.
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