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Moderately dull example of one of my least favorite subgenres, Grumpy Adult Slowly Bonds With Obstreperous Child Forced Into His/Her Care. Unless the adult is truly kind of horrible—Moses Pray in Paper Moon, Tilda Swinton as Julia—this dynamic always feels saccharine; with Hanks as the star, it's just a matter of twiddling your thumbs waiting for the dude to finally assume parental responsibility. Not much of interest en route, either, with the notable exception of one chase/shootout that culminates in an inventive solution to the problem of having a shotgun but no shells other than useless birdshot. (Hanks remains admirably committed, in these Greengrass films, to subverting heroic behavior. The giddy grin he flashes when Johanna's idea works is memorably atypical; most actors would strive to maintain their cool.) Basically plays like True Grit minus everything distinctive, with too little emphasis on Kidd's profession; by the end, he's not so much conveying the headlines as embellishing "human interest" stories, as if people in 1870 desired nothing more than to see theater replaced by live recaps—the frontier's equivalent of reality TV. That might have been kind of fascinating, actually, but it plays like an afterthought. All of the emphasis is on the pseudo-paternal relationship, every beat of which feels both preordained and rehashed. Throw in painfully blunt dialogue ("I guess we both have demons to face on down this road") and one of James Newton Howard's corniest efforts at a rousing Western fanfare, and this is quite a long sit. I did get a little choked up at the epilogue (specifically by Johanna's inclusion in Kidd's spiel), but it was too late.

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