Accident Man: Hitman's Holiday

Accident Man: Hitman’s Holiday is a coarse action comedy with enough energy to keep going after its jokes begin to tire. George Kirby and Harry Kirby direct Scott Adkins as Mike Fallon, and the governing idea is straightforward: make the violence outrageous enough and it ought to become funny. It sometimes does. We would save this one for an evening when excessive bodily punishment is already part of the attraction.

Scott Adkins shares the story credit with Stu Small, who also writes the screenplay. Their approach gives the leading performer plenty of scope, though the determination to be disreputable can become a nuisance. Scott Adkins supplies a useful degree of seriousness amid the absurdity, giving us something to hold on to when the comedy becomes insistent. The writing needs more confidence that a ridiculous situation can amuse without constant encouragement.

Beau Fowler’s character is named Poco The Killer Clown, which should settle any uncertainty about the tone. Perry Benson plays Finicky Fred, Ray Stevenson plays Big Ray, and Sarah Chang is Wong Siu-ling. There is welcome personality in the ensemble, even when the broad characterisation gives the performers little room for surprise. The names establish the level of humour quickly, but the film struggles to vary it enough across its 96 minutes.

Richard C Bell’s cinematography serves the physical action without treating the violence with undue solemnity. Victoria Richards’s production design is similarly unobtrusive, keeping our interest on the performers rather than competing for attention. Those are useful qualities in a film already so eager to make a noise. Neither contribution, however, gives us much else to enjoy when the appeal of the physical mayhem begins to fade.

Harry Kirby and George Kirby also handle the editing, and momentum is seldom the problem. Their cutting keeps pressing on when an occasional pause might give the comedy a better chance to work. John Koutselinis’s music adds to the bustle, though it does little to distinguish one degree of excitement from another. With the action and the humour already demanding so much attention, a less insistent musical contribution would have been welcome.

We winced at the exaggerated gore, then grew tired of it. The violence is pushed far enough beyond plausibility to invite laughter, but that invitation becomes repetitive when excess is doing so much of the comic work. An action comedy needs some variation in what makes us laugh, even when bodily damage is its preferred subject. There is effort here, and a willingness to look foolish that we appreciate; the trouble is how often the film expects those qualities to be sufficient.

Within this end of action comedy, an elaborate injury can be a perfectly serviceable joke. We do not need good taste, but we do need timing and enough invention to make the next outrage feel worth waiting for. This has enough coarse enthusiasm for the interested, with a substantial caveat about the humour. If the killer clown sounds like a selling point, this may be your evening.