The Man from Toronto

You know a film's in trouble when it can't be saved by a rocket launcher-toting Ellen Barkin.

None of this is remotely believable because the screenplay by Robbie Fox and Chris Bremner consistently has Teddy saying and doing things that no one in his position would be dumb enough to do. Hart is a master of talking his way out of situations, so this should have yielded comic benefits. Unfortunately, Teddy’s mistake leads him to the one cabin in Onancock, Virginia that contains someone The Man From Toronto was supposed to torture. Through tenets of Roger Ebert’s Idiot Plot theory, TMFT is stuck with Teddy as he maneuvers his way through the hitman story. We see her husband repeatedly “teddying” in the sequence of YouTube workout videos that open “The Man From Toronto.” At least Hart is diesel enough to pull off playing a guy advertising weight training items like the “TeddyBand” (which pops and slaps him in the face) and the “TeddyBar,” a pull-up rack whose workout consists of its user being accidentally crushed under the falling equipment. Teddy’s latest pitch is to his boxing ring boss, Marty, who has kept him on despite the fact the marketing brochures Teddy made don’t mention the address of the gym. People say “low toner” so many times in “The Man from Toronto” that a drinking game could be based on it. For reasons I don’t have enough word count to explain, the FBI is also pressuring Teddy to put himself in harm’s way. The Man From Toronto takes orders from a woman his phone refers to as the “Handler.” The film initially plays coy with her identity, but her distinctive voice immediately identifies the actor who plays her. Thanks to “low toner” in his printer, Teddy misidentifies the address of the cabin he has rented for Lori’s birthday excursion. The Miami guy (Pierson Fode), first seen beating a man to death with a golf club, seems to have a pre-existing beef that keeps him turning up every so often like a bad penny. Teddy ( Kevin Hart), the protagonist of Netflix’s “The Man From Toronto,” is an irritating, motormouthed, underachieving idiot.

This review of the Netflix film The Man From Toronto does not contain spoilers. The Man From Toronto follows the misadventures of a New York bum and an.

In spite of its issues, however, The Man From Toronto really wasn’t the terrible time I’d feared it would be. Some of the combat set-pieces were fun to watch too, however, I wasn’t a huge fan of the ‘one-shot’ fights that definitely weren’t one-shot. There is definitely a massive buddy hint about the film – a completely mismatched pairing from two very different backgrounds coming together for the greater good.

This isn't the sort of movie you should go out of your way to see. But it's a showcase for the minor modern miracle of Kevin Hart's timing.

At least, in The Man from Toronto, he’s a life force that prevents the whole enterprise from being dead on arrival. For her birthday, he books a getaway weekend in Virginia. But he screws up even that: when he prints out the location of the Airbnb cabin he’s rented, the ink is so faint he can’t read the address. Harrelson’s character, who strides through the movie in trim black assassin’s gear, is one of those cartoonishly enigmatic loners whose prized possession is a 1969 Dodge Charger. He takes his orders from a handler he’s never met in real life, a mystery woman with an ice-white bob (Ellen Barkin). He adores 19th-century poetry and hopes to leave the hired-killer life to open his own restaurant. But if nothing else, it’s a showcase for one small blessing: the minor modern miracle of Hart’s timing. It’s not such a terrible idea, but Teddy has almost willed himself into failure, and he fears that Lori, as much she loves him, is losing patience. The Man From Toronto, a Netflix action-comedy starring Woody Harrelson and Kevin Hart, is the kind of movie you forget almost the minute the end credits have rolled, two hours of moderate laughs rolled up in a tissue-thin plot that just barely qualifies as a distraction from the dreariness of life.

This one sticks Kevin Hart and Woody Harrelson into a mistaken-identity mismatched-buddy plot, the former playing a doofus accidentally mixed up in the latter's ...

Our Take: This story truly is a thing of great dramatic inconsequence, half of an eighth of an afterthought to the “unlikely,” contrived buddying-up of a ruthless executioner of human beings, who will be humanized, and a loveable blockhead, who will be toughened up. This is truly an UNO ALL WILD! overcomplicated nonsense plot, and none of it matters in the least, except that it frequently contorts upon itself so TMfT can’t justify killing Teddy to get him out of the way. He drops her off at the spa for a scrubdown or whatever then ends up at the wrong address, where he’s mistaken for The Man from Toronto. He sees some shit he shouldn’t see, and he knows he shouldn’t see this shit, so he rolls with it and pretends to be TMfT and somehow survives and also survives an FBI raid, after which he’s asked to continue to pretend to be TMfT, despite his being a generally inept human being. This plot, which takes us to UTAH, where we meet a man known only as The Man from Toronto (Harrelson). He’s a cold-blooded damn killer who drives a circa-Bullitt Dodge Charger and is also a heckuva cook, which means he has dreams. Sony kicked around slick action-comedy The Man from Toronto, putting it on and off and on and off the theatrical-release schedule before it was scooped up by Netflix. Is this what we might call ominous portent in terms of its watchability? He has a dream of being an online fitness guru, but nobody watches his wack-ass no-budget videos, his gimmicky workout gear belongs on the scrap heap and his best terrible idea is “non-contact boxing.” Somehow, he’s managed to not get divorced from Lori (Jasmine Mathews), a saint of a sweetheart of a woman with patience that seems unending until this plot comes along.