It sounds like fun, right? Five assassins and a stray snake on a train hurtling from Tokyo to Kyoto, all bent on killing somebody once the trolley has passed through their carriage. There’s a east London mobster who claims to have learned everything about life from Thomas the Tank Engine; Brad Pitt as a washed-up gun for hire in a dumb sun-hat and shades, muttering therapy mantras; even a textbook samurai, who rises from somewhere near the luggage rack wielding a sword. Bullet Train, David Leitch’s adaptation of Kotoro Isaka’s 2010 best-seller, ticks a lot of boxes.
And it is fun, up to a point. From the moment we see the neon lights of Tokyo flip up like a postcard, accompanied by a blast of the Bee Gees’ Stayin’ Alive (in Japanese), we recognise that we’re in comic-book territory. Like many action thrillers of similar bent, Bullet Train has a plot that is simultaneously simple and so convoluted that you can find yourself, about an hour into your popcorn, wondering when that corpse now blocking the window was killed. And why? By whom? And what about the briefcase full of money that started this whole caper? Where did it go? And know that the answers to these questions really don’t matter.
