2021's Nobody is one of those deliciously schlocky action movies that delivers on its smooth-brained promise: in this case, giving Bob Odenkirk a platform to shoot a conveyor belt of guns at a greater production line of faceless Russians. From that logline alone, you might aptly deduce that it sounds a lot like production company sibling John Wick, also produced by emerging action movie mega-mogul David Leitch. This ex-stuntman's portfolio bulges with the most popular action-thrillers today: think Deadpool 2, Bullet Train, and indeed, the John Wicks, plus the attendant spin-offs, sequels and prequels planned for the Wickiverse.
Odenkirk is, of course, best known for his work in Breaking Bad, and then leading its equally critically revered spin-off, Better Call Saul. He's an everyman with a receding hairline, healthy mid-rift and sideburns borrowed from the ‘70s. In the Heisenberg-saga shows, he portrayed the criminal lawyer Saul Goodman — hence the title — aka Jimmy McGill, aka Gene Takavic, aka Viktor St. Claire. He survived and profited from Albuquerque's criminal underworld not with brute force, nor even shrewd intellect, but slippery, affable charm, a rare sort of street smarts boasted only by the greatest of conmen. If he was your neighbour, you'd suspect nothing; if not for his kitsch local TV ads, he'd be another comfortably anonymous face on the sidewalk.
This is all to say that Odenkirk would not be your first pick for a geezer teaser a la Sly Stallone, Arnie, Liam Neeson or Nick Cage, nor to take Keanu Reeves' place in a spiritual sibling to the Wick franchise. The appeal of the former, if you can call it that, is pure nostalgia, seeing those guys trying to roll back the years in snap-cutty, cinder block-choreographed style. The latter? Well, Wick might've cemented Reeves place as one of our preeminent centurial action heroes, but he was an established action lead before the first one landed in 2014. Nobody, for its part, likely came into existence because Odenkirk became a cult hero on screen through Breaking Bad and Saul, and someone made the apt observation that, yes, it would be fun and subversive to see this unremarkable middle-ager go to town on a bus crammed with leering Russian skinheads.
While the Hollywood action heroes of years gone by — most of them are listed above — were hulking, red-blooded, star-spangled superheroes with bulging biceps and a hatred for communists, the believable everyman has taken the place of the demigod, partially because comic book movies are such a big thing now. (You might've heard.) Take John Wick, for example, an antisocial weirdo whose wiry frame, unkept beard and long, frizzy hair might be boasted by any basement-dweller with an enduring proclivity for World of Warcraft. Neeson in Taken: he's just a dad with a menacing phone voice. The same goes for Odenkirk's Nobody protagonist, a blue-collar family man with a quintessentially all-American movie name (Hutch) who simply wants to do right by his bored wife and irreverent kids.
Like Taken, the Nobody setup — unremarkable dad goes giga-chad — is a bit of a red herring. Hutch has chosen averageness, you see, retreating to a quieter life in the small town suburbs. Before this he was an “auditor” for the “three-letter organisations,” which we suppose are your FBIs, your CIAs and your NSAs; this is to euphemistically say that he was one of the most sought-after assassins in the world. Like a junkie going cold turkey, Hutch has elected to avoid violence since he left the job years ago, lest he spiral back into blood lust. But then a couple break into his house, his reluctance to fight them off pushes him over the brink of emasculation, and the universe so happens to offer him an escape valve for all of that pent up man rage — the aforementioned busload of Russian mobsters.
Things go to shit, the Russian mob hunt him down, and Odenkirk is given the opportunity to variously stab, burn, shoot, pulverise, chop and patronise them one-by-one. (In the final act, he's supported in this endeavour by RZA and Christopher Lloyd, who play his brother and father, both with their own proclivities for gun-totting violence. The latter especially likes shotguns.) There's no grand moral message here, it's just a tight (92 minutes, tight) wish-fulfilling B-movie with adequate fight scenes and the sort of shoot ‘em up setups that make you wince with glee. You will holler at the screen like a monkey at the zoo. You may take the time to pick and eat the parasites from your scalp as you do so. But it's a damn good time, and Odenkirk makes a damn great action lead.
Nobody is now streaming on Netflix.
