What a disappointing vehicle this is for Games of Thrones star Lena Headey: a ropey, derivative thriller squandering all her onscreen smoulder and that dangerous smile that, as Cersei Lannister, had them quaking in terror. Here she plays a stripper called Gypsy who hates kids but goes on the run from the mob with an orphan. It’s a film that serves up undercooked chunks of Tarantino with a splat of John Cassavetes’ Gloria on the side.
Nine Bullets begins on the night Gypsy retires from exotic dancing – so just in time for a good perv of her wearing gold nipple covers. Gypsy has written a memoir about her life as a stripper and landed a life-changing publishing deal. But just as she’s about to drive off into a new life, gangsters bump off her neighbour Ralph (Zachary Mooren), a mob accountant who’s been fiddling the books. The only survivor is Ralph’s young son Sam (Dean Scott Vazquez), who Gypsy reluctantly agrees to drive to an uncle in South Dakota, a trio of goons on their tail. It’s a road trip of second chances, redemption and some clunky plotting.
