About a third of the way in, this nihilistic lark begins its long, tiresome climax… The characters exist primarily as sets of quippy mouths, ornately mustachioed faces, and trigger-happy fingers. The camera sticks close to each of them in turn as they worm their respective ways through the ochre rubble. They get shot, bleed, resign themselves to dying. Not much joy here, not a lot of beauty, but at least Free Fire has decibels to spare.
June 07, 2017