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So do the minutes. They stretch on as one tiresomely quirky sadist after another appears. Cusack is typically likable and De Niro is amusing in his brief scenes. But unlike Jack, you’re too smart to make big sacrifices for so little return.
The Bag Man plays like a film from the years right after "Pulp Fiction," when the indie market was suddenly flooded with quips, guns, and hollow affectation.
The trouble is that Grovic's attempts to generate suspense by keeping character identities and motivations unknown leaves the proceedings feeling vague and slapdash.
This blathery, misogynist indie from first-time director David Grovic — which seems to be aiming for “Pulp Fiction” territory with its blend of crime, banter and the mysterious contents of a bag — falls far short, rife as it is with noir and gender clichés.
At least Mr. De Niro, who disappears from the movie until the end, seems to be enjoying himself. The force of his bonhomie gives this murky-looking, empty conceit of a film a desperately needed lift of facetious humor.
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Los Angeles Times by Betsy Sharkey
Entertainment Weekly by Chris Nashawaty
Slant Magazine by Chuck Bowen
New York Daily News by Elizabeth Weitzman
The Dissolve by Jen Chaney
The A.V. Club by Mike D'Angelo
Village Voice by Nick Schager
Observer by Rex Reed
New York Post by Sara Stewart
The New York Times by Stephen Holden