Death, power, deception. They're all the subjects of Stephen Frears' "The Hit," and they all have their time in the spotlight. From the opening scene, "The Hit" seems to have all the workings of a great movie. So why is it merely a good one?
Surely not the actors, who have talent written all over them: Terrance Stamp, John Hurt, Tim Roth in his pre-"Reservoir Dogs" days. Surely not the setting of steamy Spain, which has the feel and intensity of a wild, dangerous place.
Maybe the problem lies in the lack of immediacy in the story. Nothing happens in much of a hurry, and the pace has the feel of a window shopper, just there to browse, for as long as it takes. Even the Salsa-flavored score of the film doesn't scream danger.
Willie Parker (Terence Stamp) is a former gangster who has settled down in a Spanish village after serving as an informant to the coppers. His relaxed life screeches to a halt when two hit-men, vicious Mitch (John Hurt) and wet-behind-the-ears trainee Myron (Tim Roth) take him captive, with the intent of driving over to France and then, you know, wasting his ass.