The Foreigner

Looking more and more like a constipated Elvis Presley with each movie, Steven Seagal is Jon Cold, a secret agent / tuff guy who transports illegal stuff for cash. He runs into bad men who want his current delivery item as he transports it from France to Germany and before ye know it, it's a useless barrage of badly made shit-ball Seagal / Elvis nonsense with Russian gangsters, police corruption, wooden dialogue, hitmen, broken glass, small scale international intrigue and the now standard—and atrociously edited—'action' sequences. Boooooo.

Filmed in the cheap part of Poland, it's slightly better than the technicolour fart Out For A Kill (2003) as it uses real locations and on-set sound instead of the tinny, garishly lit sets and obviously dubbed babbling, but that don't make it good either.

Once again director Oblowitz hides Seagal by filming him in the dark or from behind and poor Steve seems to be now resigned to wearing his own clothing—squeezed into his belly hiding leather coat... all mumbly 'n' chit. Kapow! kapow! The end. It's a real shame the guy won't accept he's older, play his age, stop wearing a rug and lay off the fucking pies.