Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Man from Toronto’ on Netflix, a Surprisingly Just-Fine Action Buddy-Comedy Pairing Kevin Hart and Woody Harrelson

Sony kicked around slick action-comedy The Man from Toronto, putting it on and off and on and off the theatrical-release schedule before it was scooped up by Netflix. Is this what we might call ominous portent in terms of its watchability? Maybe – director Patrick Hughes is a veteran of The Expendables 3 and both Hitman’s Bodyguard movies, all of them horrid junksters that never met a crappy greenscreen effect they didn’t like. This one sticks Kevin Hart and Woody Harrelson into a mistaken-identity mismatched-buddy plot, the former playing a doofus accidentally mixed up in the latter’s hired-assassin gig. Hilarity ensues, right? That’s what we’re here to determine, folks.

THE MAN FROM TORONTO: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Teddy (Hart) is a moron. He has a dream of being an online fitness guru, but nobody watches his wack-ass no-budget videos, his gimmicky workout gear belongs on the scrap heap and his best terrible idea is “non-contact boxing.” Somehow, he’s managed to not get divorced from Lori (Jasmine Mathews), a saint of a sweetheart of a woman with patience that seems unending until this plot comes along. This plot, which takes us to UTAH, where we meet a man known only as The Man from Toronto (Harrelson). He’s a cold-blooded damn killer who drives a circa-Bullitt Dodge Charger and is also a heckuva cook, which means he has dreams. He yearns. Do you yearn? Behind his steely facade and reputation for torturing dudes, he definitely yearns.

Fate puts both men in Onancock, Virginia, a real-life location obviously chosen for its name, because it’s “funny.” Teddy takes Lori there for a surprise remote love-shack getaway for her birthday. He drops her off at the spa for a scrubdown or whatever then ends up at the wrong address, where he’s mistaken for The Man from Toronto. He sees some shit he shouldn’t see, and he knows he shouldn’t see this shit, so he rolls with it and pretends to be TMfT and somehow survives and also survives an FBI raid, after which he’s asked to continue to pretend to be TMfT, despite his being a generally inept human being. Meanwhile the real TMfT, a man who knows “more than 23 martial arts” and has a thing for 19th-century poetry, is not amused that a generally inept human being is impersonating him.

While the Plot keeps Lori busy – with a character played by Kaley Cuoco, a thankless BFF role – the Plot merges Teddy and TMfT so we get some of that wacky motormouth/grim badass tightlip comedy dynamic. The Plot is a character here, which is why I capitalize it; we could also call it Divine Intervention or the Hand of the Screenwriter God. A character we couldn’t give less of a rip about, mind you. It involves the Feds and various scumwads and dirtlords from all over hither and yon, Puerto Rico, Miami, D.C., you name it. This is truly an UNO ALL WILD! overcomplicated nonsense plot, and none of it matters in the least, except that it frequently contorts upon itself so TMfT can’t justify killing Teddy to get him out of the way. Plus, maybe they’re becoming friends? Oh, and there’s also some concern over whether Teddy’s marriage will survive all this. NO SPOILERS but you probably can see it all coming regardless.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: This is yet another garden-variety Rush Hour/Lethal Weapon buddy-yuks wackadoo excursion, but with the humanize-the-hitman angle of, say, Grosse Pointe Blank. It’s a notch better than Netflix tripe Red Notice, two notches better than The Hitman’s Bodyguard, and 300 notches better than The Hitman’s Bodyguard’s Wife.

Performance Worth Watching: Nobody can say that Hart doesn’t work hard – he’s elevated this film, Fatherhood and Central Intelligence with sheer exertion of energy.

Memorable Dialogue: Sample banter:

Teddy: I’m more afraid of Lori than of you.

TMfT: Will she torture you?

Teddy: With the silent treatment, yeah!

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: This story truly is a thing of great dramatic inconsequence, half of an eighth of an afterthought to the “unlikely,” contrived buddying-up of a ruthless executioner of human beings, who will be humanized, and a loveable blockhead, who will be toughened up. Oh, and the faint whiff of concern for Teddy and Lori’s marriage, which it emits like a flatulent squeak; this is a completely extraneous subplot existing solely to shuffle rom-com cliches into its action-comedy presets. It’s kind of amusing how it offers two colossal WHATEVERs as its core dramatic concerns.

So consider this a rare case of a mainstream action-comedy that’s not at all about what happens, but the relationship between the men caught up in its happenings. The Man from Toronto is immediately disposable but surprisingly palatable – in spite of the puke and fart jokes. That I didn’t lead this critical assessment with the puke and farts is a testament to how the puke and farts are overshadowed by the movie’s modest assets: To the effort Harrelson and Hart put into selling the mildly amusing script, and their solid chemistry. And to Hughes’ direction, which offers up a real eyeroller of an action set piece on a giant nouveau-art mobile structure, and a wannabe-virtuoso, digitally enhanced, complex third-act shootout/hand-to-hand clobberama action sequence. And to the excoriating image of Ellen Barkin toting a grenade launcher. This ludicrous stuff isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but it’s at least moderately entertaining.

Teddy’s marketing catchphrase for his moronic non-contact boxing enterprise is “All of the pow without the ow,” which is actually not a case for the movie reviewing itself via its own dialogue. There’s plenty of ow here – talking-killer tropes, a protracted violent conclusion, gross underuse of Cuoco’s talent and, of course, the puke and farts. But I’ve seen enough junkfood cinema in this vein recently to render The Man from Toronto watchable, and more enjoyable than it probably should be. Consider my rock-bottom expectations surpassed!

Our Call: STREAM IT. No! Don’t send The Man from Toronto back to Canada! Invite him over for dinner! Just don’t expect any scintillating intellectual conversation.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com.