Yet again, a stone-cold killer who happens to be a woman is given a tragic backstory, saddled with a child she sees as a younger version of herself, and tees off against an array of male characters who primarily see female characters as their subordinates, which is meant to be ironic, since they’re being killed by a woman. Where Kate then goes is also where Netflix’s Gunpowder Milkshake went. So she dedicates her final 24 hours to hunting down Kijima, and decides to use Kijima’s teenage niece Ani (Miku Patricia Martineau) as leverage. Kate misses the shot, and when she seeks medical attention for the problem, she’s diagnosed with acute radiation syndrome, which will kill her within a day. Composer Nathan Barr pipes in skipping, cacophonic electronic music to indicate that Kate’s body is malfunctioning, while editors Sandra Montiel and Elísabet Ronaldsdóttir fracture Kate’s vision with askew angles and jarring flashbacks. Then, 10 months later, she’s called on to kill the big boss, Kijima (Jun Kunimura) - and her body seems to rebel against her actions. First, she’s ordered to kill someone with his teenage daughter there - a major breach of protocol. Kate’s latest targets are high up in a Japanese crime family, but she thinks something about the job doesn’t feel right. Jackson have the same dynamic in that film.) (This may sound remarkably similar to the setup of The Protégé, because it is - Maggie Q and Samuel L. (It’s unclear whether Varrick works for a larger government entity, or runs an entire assassination operation by himself.) That imbalanced relationship has worked since Varrick adopted her as a child. Varrick tells her who to kill, and she does it without asking any questions. Winstead stars as an assassin who hasn’t “missed once in 12 years.” She murders people at the behest of Varrick (Woody Harrelson), her handler/boss/father figure. The violence isn’t quite ultra, but at least it adds some excitement to the otherwise lackluster script. He composes close-ups of blood splattering across shoji screens, and relishes Winstead in slow motion, twirling her way through the neon-green laser lights of rifle scopes. Cinematographer Lyle Vincent flips the camera over to disorient the audience with upside-down fight scenes. Kate shoves men’s faces into hibachi grills, elevates and holds herself between buildings so she can shoot downward at her pursuers, and slices off fingers before stabbing men in their mouths. That approach benefits Kate, which positions its protagonist as one woman standing against waves and waves of yakuza members. And Eusebio is skillful at coordinating the fluid one-against-many action scenes that have become his preferred style over the course of projects from the John Wick franchise to The Fate of the Furious, Haywire, and Nikita.
With a dagger or a broken glass bottle, her movements are quick, practically churning, as she stabs again and again and again. She is poised when she’s aiming a sniper rifle, and controlled when she’s smashing a gun into someone’s face after running out of bullets. Over Birds of Prey, Gemini Man, and 10 Cloverfield Lane, Winstead has developed a physical confidence as a performer that girds her work as Kate’s titular assassin. You could at least watch Kate for the fight scenes alone and be somewhat satisfied. Winstead and stunt coordinator Jonathan Eusebio, who previously worked together on Birds of Prey, deserve better than this. And Western fetishization of the yakuza as businessmen with samurai swords is getting pretty uninspired as well. The film’s depiction of Japanese culture as insularly obsessed with “honor” and dismissive of outsiders isn’t particularly fresh, either. It isn’t - not for Netflix, immediately following Gunpowder Milkshake, and not for other studios, with The Protégé and Jolt piling up on each other’s stiletto-clad footsteps over the past few months.
Kate netflix movie#
Maybe taking on that kind of iconic role could keep Winstead from tiresome fare like Netflix’s action movie Kate.Īnother unimaginative woman-led action flick written and directed by men who telegraph their twists and lean on flashbacks instead of bothering to write character development, Kate mistakes “women can kill just as well as men!” for some sort of new idea. Whether she plays Amanda Ripley, Ellen’s canonical daughter, or a clone of Ellen herself (a narrative possibility imagined by 1997’s Joss Whedon-written Alien Resurrection), Winstead should be unleashed against the Weyland-Yutani Corporation so everyone can watch the sparks fly. the World, Winstead has grown into a self-assured actress whose physical confidence, sardonic line deliveries, and shaggy chopped ’do evoke Weaver’s sci-fi icon.
Since her breakthrough in Scott Pilgrim vs. Whoever makes the next Alien sequel or spinoff should consider casting Mary Elizabeth Winstead as the successor of Sigourney Weaver’s character, Ellen Ripley.
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