

This 2001 triumph begins with John Travolta having an American Pyscho-style monologue about the decay of the film industry, waxing nostalgic about the hyper-realism of Dog Day Afternoon, and it just gets more genius from there.



"The bad guy cant win, it's a morality tale, one way or another he's gotta go down," Hugh Jackman says in his first line, making the whole opening scene a frame-prologue, a meta-commentary on the film itself which is a commentary on the action genre which is a commentary on real American violence and if you don't see how earth-shatteringly genius that is then you can eat a bag of dicks.



Don Cheadle as DEA and terrorist names like Axl Torvald and Halle Berry's freakin tits—if you slept on this movie growing up, or if you were too young to see it when it came out, then I really have to commend you for continuing to be alive despite being such an ignorant piece of shit. This thing is like Gone in 60 Seconds meets The Matrix meets a shot of adrenaline straight to the mainline. If techno music were a movie then it would be Swordfish. If a leather coat with a fur collar was a movie then it would be Swordfish. If Halle Berry's awesome tits were a movie then it would be mother fuckin Swordfish. (Swordfish is also the password to all of the villain's electronic accounts but you don't realize that until the end.)



Is there a plot? Kind of! Hugh Jackman can't use computers but the bad guys make him do it anyway so they can hack into something important then Jackman takes a bazooka and blows up a frickin helicopter on top of a hotel. There's a bomb-rigged bus that flies through the air, some bait and switch thing with John Travolta's corpse, then a final image of a sickass party yacht where I think all the baddies get away but I don't remember because I had a bottle and a half of white wine and nodded off for a minute but they play dope music for the final credits and lemme tell you, movies like this, they make little boys' balls drop.

Bet you didn't notice she was wearing a wire.



This joint is rated R for if you don't like it then you can go fuck yourself RIGHT NOW. Hugh Jackman punches a lady, gets head, has a wife who does porn, a dog named Judas, and an ear hoop, so you KNOW he doesn't fuck around. And you better not either—turn off that other bullshit you're watching, do some pushups, take a shot, fire a gun at your drywall then WATCH THIS FUCKING FILM.

"Name three other movies the fella on the left is in and you don't get shot in the face!"