By Dustin Rowles | Film | January 27, 2025 |
Aside from Hacksaw Ridge — directed by Mel Gibson, which we begrudgingly reviewed because it was an Oscar-nominated film starring Andrew Garfield — we haven’t touched a Mel Gibson movie, as actor or director, since 2011’s The Beaver. That review, by the way, was a deliberate exercise in avoiding mentioning Gibson’s name entirely (you’re welcome). The rationale back then was simple: if we just ignored him, maybe he’d disappear.
Well, guess what? It’s 2025. Mel Gibson is still here, like a floater that refuses to be flushed. And lately, as I lean into the “scathing reviews, bitchy people” vibe of the site (because look around), I thought, “Hey, maybe eviscerating a Gibson movie would feel cathartic.” But two problems arise: 1) No one would take my review of a Gibson film seriously because I have a political axe to grind with the man who has repeatedly growled racist and antisemitic slurs (that I won’t repeat because our ad rates don’t need to tank today), and 2) Historically, ugh, Gibson was a pretty good director. At least, Braveheart was solid… 30 years ago.
As for the first issue, there’s not much I can do to neutralize that except to admit I did think Dragged Across Concrete, which starred Gibson, was very good, which is why I didn’t review it — I have no desire to promote a bigot’s work, and I probably would’ve kept my mouth shut if Flight Risk had been worthwhile, too. But the second problem? Not so much of a concern anymore. Whatever directing talent Gibson once had has clearly eroded along with his grasp on reality. This is the same man who believes ivermectin cures cancer and, just the other day, said— out loud, in public — that the President visiting California was like “daddy taking his belt off.” Take a moment to allow your gag reflex to recover.
Lionsgate was wise not to put Gibson’s name front and center for Flight Risk. The marketing coyly referenced “the director of Braveheart and Apocalypto,” and honestly, good call. Gibson is radioactive, regardless of political leanings. That said, I’m pretty sure the film’s meager $12 million box office haul came mostly from people who wanted to support Gibson and his … “values.”
And here’s the sweet, sweet schadenfreude: those poor assholes had to sit through this absolute dumpster fire. Flight Risk is an ineptly directed, coma-inducing garbage pile. Lionsgate, instead of shoving it straight to Redbox where it belongs, inexplicably gave it a theatrical release. I can only assume Mark Wahlberg — doing a solid for his racist buddy — still has just enough box-office clout to make that happen. But make no mistake: this movie is trash.
The premise is simple: Michelle Dockery plays U.S. Marshal Madolyn, tasked with transporting wiseass accountant Winston (Topher Grace) on a prop plane from Alaska to Seattle. Daryl (Mark Wahlberg), their shady pilot, is secretly working for the bad guys and tasked with killing Winston before he can testify. That’s it. That’s the setup.
For an hour and a half, we’re stuck in a tiny plane cabin. Madolyn fights off Daryl. Daryl fights back. Madolyn wins. Then Daryl loses again and spends the rest of the movie handcuffed, shouting things like, “I’m going to kill you so hard!” and “You’re gonna die, bitch!” or whatever line ChatGPT recommends to screenwriter Jared Rosenberg. Meanwhile, Madolyn pieces together who the mole is in the U.S. Marshal’s office, all while trying to fly the plane using tips from a headset. Topher Grace, for his part, mostly rolls his eyes and delivers the occasional lame quip.
That’s the movie. I wish I were exaggerating, but the most memorable scene involves Wahlberg writhing around, trying to rip his hand through a pair of handcuffs. It’s somehow the best part of the movie. That’s how low the bar is. For once, I found myself thinking, “This movie could use more Wahlberg,” because at least his over-the-top awfulness is entertaining in a trainwreck sort of way. Dockery and Grace? They’re just … there. And Gibson’s pacing? Excruciatingly slow, like watching a sucking leg wound scab over.
This movie is not good. The performances are not good. The script is not good. The direction is especially not good. It is not fun. It is not redeemable. It is a black hole. The only silver lining is that everyone who paid money to watch it had to suffer through this nonsense, including my son, who I lured with a trailer that hinted at “so-bad-it’s-good” fun. It’s not even that; it’s an oozing mouth sore of a movie, a big old blob of worthless pus.