A stoner comedy by nature relies on an undercurrent of paranoia. In American Ultra Mike Howell (Jesse Eisenberg) quickly loses the edge of thinking everyone is after him when–lo and behold–before long everyone is indeed after him. Also gone with the stoner conceit is the notion that this film is somehow a comedy. What looks in the film’s trailer like a promising ride replete with wit and surprise, results in pretty much a flat exercise in a not-so-hot action film. Once its couple of twists are revealed rather early on, it pretty much ceases to be funny. The viewer is left holding an increasingly preposterous plot. Eisenberg and co-star Kirsten Stewart do their best, but it’s not enough.
Six years ago the two starred together in Adventureland, a marvelous sleeper of a film. Here they merely induce sleep despite the presence of talented supporting players John Leuizamo (as Rose, a crazed drug dealer) and Tony Hale (Veep) and a fish out of water appearance by Bill Pullman as a CIA boss. Predictably lame is Topher Grace as a renegade CIA operative in over his head leading an operation too big for his britches and too lame to allow the viewer to buy into any of it.
What begins as a comedic look at an unorthodox relationship between Mike and Phoebe (Stewart) quickly heats up to a boiling-over mess. We know we’re in trouble when Victoria Lasseter (Connie Britton) show up at the convenience store where Mike works and spouts the lines, “Mandlebrot is set in motion, echo choir has been breached, we’re fielding the ball.”
Puh-lease!
Once her secret is revealed, Phoebe, resorts to a one-dimensional character–yet another hitch in Max Landis’ lazy screenplay. Stewart, fresh off an outstanding performance in Clouds of Sils Maria, deserves better. The low point of the film, however, are the far too many creepy scenes with Walter Goggins (Justified) as a former criminal mental patient-turned CIA killer.
When it comes to lame attempts at satire American Ultra is so disappointing it makes Southland Tales look like Dr. Strangelove.