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The use of the simple cliche is so jarringly silly at times in this movie it is hard not to expect the worst from Besson. 'Soccer, eh, I'm from the States, we play real football'... grim. 'Are you a real Italian, you must know how to make spaghetti sauce'.. are you kidding. Aren't we past this level of drivel, yet. The volume of slaughter that occurs, mid-Paris streets, is completely absurd. And post such slaughter, we shift to family drama: a daughter just graduating from High School, doesn't yet know how to ride a bike, so let's do a mid-town instruction, replete with applause from the locals. This was not an action adventure, it was a absurdist comedy. Awful stuff. Despite Costner.
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