Is it time to give a name to the sub-genre of action movies that Shoot 'Em Up belongs to? I’m talking about those action flicks that go one beyond your normal action offerings. Your regular guns, fights, 'n chases movie usually has a plot that takes itself seriously, with action which might only somewhat exaggerate what's physically believable.  But then you have stuff like this new one that says, "we know what we're doing here is unbelievable -- we just want to
make it outrageous and have you drop your jaw at our creativity." Nothing to take seriously here -- simply sit back and watch the carefully constructed crazy carnage.

Although in spirit, such films might find their roots in the old exploitation B-movies, the closest cousin for Shoot 'Em Up I can think of is The Transporter.  I concluded my review of that movie with, "The Transporter tackles action with the enthusiastic glee of boys who like to dream up impossible scenarios and commit them to film," which also sums it up entirely here. Maybe at first it seemed like a good idea, but it’s already losing its novelty, even by The Transporter 2, for which I wrote, "this all-out approach robs the movie of any sense of dimension -- human, story, even energy."

In the end, there isn't much to this particular approach. It's almost like a parlor game -- see who can come up with the next over-the-top sequence. By the middle of the movie, after a healthy dose of set pieces in which our hero (Clive Owen) disposes of goons like so many carnival ducks, you'll start to believe that you, too, can dream up your own impossible scenarios.

And yet that doesn't stop some of us in the audience from reacting properly to a few of the more, um, imaginative ideas. Let's at least give credit to the boys behind Shoot ‘Em Up, led by writer/director Michael Davis. They have Owen's firearms expert, Mr. Smith, gun down bad guys by sliding past them using a pool of blood; take them out while making love to Monica Bellucci; and rig a warehouse to blow away the guards by literally pulling strings from a control room.  Meanwhile, all the actors ham things up, as if they
understand all they have to do is play one dimension to the hilt; most enjoyably, watch Paul Giamatti chew the scenery with infectious relish.

Most of what happens is so wrong you can't help cracking up at the audacity, the sheer ridiculousness of what happens. In the end, it comes across as less action and more comedy. If any of the events had any weight to them, enjoyment of this sort of thing might make one feel guilty. As is, they're just superficial, and we're made all too aware of that.

Shall we dub this kind of movie in the same way we've dubbed stomach-testing horror movies like Saw or Hostel? If they're "torture-porn," then this stuff is "action-porn." Why not?  You might be able to say you had a good time watching it -- but felt dirty about it afterwards.

(Released by New Line Cinema and rated “R” for strong, bloody violence, nudity and some language. )

Review also posted at www.windowtothemovies.com.