Here’s what you need to know: John Cusack ends up lying in the middle of a road at night, bleeding and getting peed on by a Serbian dwarf. And not in a good way. Are times really that lean for Cusack these days?
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. Yet it starts off somewhat promisingly as Jack (Cusack) and his employer, Dragna (Robert De Niro), dine on a private jet, discussing Jack pulling off a sketchy job involving said bag.
As Jack settles in at a seedy motel to await the handoff, he’s beset by a hooker (Rebecca Da Costa) sporting a blue wig and fleeing an abusive pair of thugs (Martin Klebba and Sticky Fingaz). A lot of dumb violence ensues over the course of the evening, with the scantily clad dame stoically bearing the brunt of it.
The one slight bright spot in “The Bag Man” is Crispin Glover, who can always be counted on to bring the weird. His mullet-sporting hotel manager shouting “No one touches my wheelchair! It belonged to my dead mother!” in a terrible Southern accent will make you wish the whole film was this campy — but alas.