Men have a place in their brains called the macho cortex (MC) buried in the limbic system which, when sufficiently stimulated, turns us into drooling morons with only two desires; survival and sex, not necessarily in that order. Most action flicks are designed to stimulate the MC by flooding our senses with big, ugly dudes who are bad (we don't care why) and we want to see killed or luscious babes who are good (all babes are good, even bad ones) and we want to...well, you know. This parses as Big, ugly = bad, Babe = good. All we need is some kind of Rambo-like hero with whom we can identify and, presto, we're there, vicariously getting off as we watch the hero (us) waste the bad guys while the babes swoon.
The problems with the formula in Seagal's formula action outing "Out for a Kill" are manifold. First, the hero, Seagal, doesn't fit the strong, silent type paradigm because he looks like a porky zombie on ludes. Second, the hero is married and then quickly widowed. So, now we're stuck with a porky zombie on ludes who is in mourning. Yuck! Thirdly, as Seagal trucks through a plot flatter than a saltine, there are no babes watching or waiting to drop their skivvies at the end. So, where's the prize? No respectable action hero would go to so much trouble with no hotties watching and waiting. Hottie cop Goh is waiting at the end but she's a platonic thing because she can't jump the hero since he's in mourning. Duh! Therefore, all the killing is a needless, senseless waste of time, the MC never gets engaged, and we, the men, are left with no reason to drool so boredom sets in and that's a bad thing. (C-)
