After a seven-year stint as the world's coolest spy and five years as Remington Steele (who, I was surprised to find out, is not a razor) Pierce Brosnan lets loose in The Matador. Way loose.
Brosnan riffs on his previous spook work by playing an international assassin. Only instead of playing a worldly and debonair man of mystery he plays a washed-up loser who's reduced to getting drunk alone in his hotel room on his birthday because he can't even get his old pals to take his calls.
Eventually, Brosnan meets up with Greg Kinnear in a hotel bar in Mexico and the two make a natural connection. Kinnear is enamored with Brosnan's top secret, jet-setting lifestyle which provides an escapist fantasy for his dull, suburban existence and Brosnan is able to make a rare human connection and indulge his dreams of a stable life and a loving support system of family and friends. Of course, things are never easy for a hit man and Brosnan attempts to enlist Kinnear's help to pull off (you guessed it) one last job.
I've mostly just described the plot but what really struck me about this film was the tone. Unfortunately, that's also the most difficult thing to describe. The Matador treads a fine line between being a thriller and being a satire. I'd describe it as a character study but I think that's sort of a vague phrase and I'm not sure that it helps. I could say that it's a dark film with bits of comic relief but I'm not sure that it isn't a comedy with a seedy undertone. Can I just say that it has a certain . . . I don't know what.
Yes, Pierce Brosnan is wearing cowboy boots in that picture. You're welcome, ladies.
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