3000 Miles to Graceland

There are films that do not take amoral characters seriously, keep a distance from them and eventually put them in the position of ridiculous nitwits. And there are movies that somehow can’t do that, and their characters are nothing more than degenerates thrust into the role of big-screen heroes. You won’t like a single character in 3000 Miles to Graceland. And its biggest star, Kevin Costner, who is presented as a demigod in an Elvis getup, plays a murderous psychopath. A psychopath about whose cult a cop admiringly comments in the end: “I’m glad he didn’t give up. I wouldn’t have.” I don’t normally moralize, but 3000 Miles to Graceland is a depraved and, what’s more, boring movie. Apparently it was supposed to be a light crime comedy in the style of True Romance – a brisk, entertaining gangster flick full of famous faces, tough guys and razor-sharp humor. But the film can’t even decide if it wants to be a comedy or a thriller. Moreover, its screenplay overflows with improbabilities and logical holes. What is the point of the blonde girl who gets into Costner’s psychopath’s car and a couple of miles later hops over to the motorbike of his old friend (who also plays no role in the film)? Does her role in the story consist only of saying one “cool” catchphrase? If so, isn’t it a little sad that the screenwriter has to resort to such crutches? (08.04.2018)