Assassination Tango

Written, Directed, Produced, and skewed all to hell by a confused Robert Duvall

Assassination Tango firmly adds Robert Duvall to a certain class of old actors. That certain class is termed �OUT OF THEIR FUCKING MINDS.� In the case of Duvall�s latest ultimate driver�s seat outing, calling it self-indulgent would be an insult to self-indulgence. The same nebulous greatness that shines from Road House is present here, albeit divergent subject matter. I pieced this absurdity together through several cruise ship hangovers, as it played back-to-back in my cabin on channel 16. If everything else is left demolished during my hangovers, I can safely say that my sense of humor somehow becomes acutely silly. Therefore, I made some notes.

From some scrawl across Carnival Cruise Lines stationary, I develop this for you:

Duvall plays a hit man of ill-defined organized crime association. He works for a man named �Frankie� who just so happens to own a bar called �Frankie�s.� Duvall�s character explodes into �fuck�-ridden tirades at absolutely no provocation, usually during civil conversations over coffee. Self-proclaiming to be �the best� at hits, he is sent to Argentina to off a political figure of unexplained position or relevance. While there, he becomes obsessed with tango dancing, a counter plot that should appeal to the menopausal word-jumble aficionado in all of us. The Argentine point of contact is played by Ruben Blades (1), who excels in un-acting and flinching as a result of Duvall�s many unforeseen and rootless outburst.

Back home (New York, I think), Duvall is enamored with his girlfriend�s ten-year-old daughter. In Argentina, Duvall shoots men in broad daylight (2) while dressed/disguised as a longshoreman (skullcap and fake beard). He even shoots a custom�s agent (�who the fuck are you� �who the fuck�s asking??� �let me fucking finish taking a leak here�) in an airport restroom, and under the apparent impression that forensic science stopped around 1970, deposits the murder weapon in a trashcan down the hall.

His character claims to have previously �operated� for ten years in Guatemala, though still manages to bring much unneeded attention to himself on foreign soil, especially through random arguments with strangers � scenes which are grade A- lowlarious (3).

The dance sequences are hard to take, and rudderless romantic conversations between Duvall and the Argentine love-interest/tango expert drag on for eternal minutes. There�s no shortage of �tango is the future,� �tango is love,� �tango is eroticism,� etc malarkey.

Duvall uses a tiny, single-shot .22 caliber purse gun throughout the film, meaning he walks right up to his prey. Scenes of tango dancing are piggy-backed with scenes of Duvall, tiny ponytail combed out, rocking no shirt, cleaning the diminutive pistol, and test firing it into a phone book. After doing so, he exclaims, �Yes!!�

The senseless plot trails off in 49 different directions. Characters start development, only to be never seen again. The assassination and subsequent escape result in a science-fiction level of implausibility over the latter part of the film.

Has anyone seen this movie? Please speak up. And no, that�s not all I have to say about the cruise. You�ll just have to let it trickle out.

(1) Does the man not have a badass name? Yup.
(2) Always mumbling �you motherfucker� before pulling the trigger.
(3) I just made that word up. Back off.