hile vacationing in Spain, Mitch Rapp (Dylan O’Brien) proposes to his girlfriend Katrina (Charlotte Vega). Seconds later, Islamic terrorists shoot up the beach, leading to some excessively melodramatic moments in which Katrina practically dies in Mitch’s embrace. 18 months later, Mitch knows nothing but hatred, hellbent on revenge against Katrina’s killers. Curiously, the perpetrators could have been anyone, yet “American Assassin” opts for the current, relevant political angle, with easily identifiable extremists. Odder still is the fact that the film doesn’t really have anything to do with U.S. conflicts with the Middle East; it’s merely a convenient enemy, like Russia in most military-minded thrillers of the ‘90s.

In Rhode Island, Mitch attempts to lure the terrorist cell responsible for Katrina’s death by posing as a brainwashed recruit. Miraculously, and without much explanation, he’s summoned to Libya, where the CIA, who has been monitoring his activities for months, foils his plans. Rather than locking him away for his recklessness, Mitch is rewarded. “I believe in you,” insists Deputy Director of Counter-terrorism Irene Kennedy (Sanaa Lathan), who ushers him off to Virginia to learn black-ops skills under the tutelage of former Navy SEAL Stan Hurley (Michael Keaton).

Though the setup is considerably generic stuff, eventually revealing a scheme to sell some enriched plutonium (lifted from an abandoned Russian facility) to the highest bidder, as if straight from the playbook of James Bond, it’s the initial character development for Rapp that provides the biggest letdown. He’s unhinged and out of control, losing his temper and hurting a fellow sparrer at a gym, before negligently wandering in front of bullets at a shooting range. He’s so focused on his personal vendetta that his own wellbeing is of no concern; Rapp is the kind of unappealing, unlikely antihero who would be dead or behind bars before the film even starts. This is something of a conundrum for a project that tries earnestly to appear serious and severe.

Yet that feigned sincerity is another problem with such a storyline. There’s little levity, virtually no comic relief, and lots of brooding and self-pity. Keaton’s role might have been more amusing to watch if he’d been alone, working as a larger-than-life, invincible veteran hitman in a world of corrupt politicians and randomly evil henchmen. Instead, the majority of the characters inspire such little sympathy that their survival is inconsequential. This ties into the infuriatingly innumerable sequences in which Mitch’s failure to follow orders is met with success and then praise. His psyche profile scares everyone, which is apparently exactly what the government seeks in an operative. At least there’s a brief explanation that his lack of formal training means there’s nothing for him to unlearn – something that would have made more sense if he’d gone undercover. But every mission is simply to observe a target and then take out that target; Rapp’s exhaustive understanding of Islam and his infiltration tactics are never properly utilized for the CIA.

At times the film devolves into a mindless actioner, which is perhaps where it is most comfortable. But even when it arranges a bit of commendable suspense, there are other faults that develop. Most notable is the main villain, who remains a few steps ahead of the protagonists, simply because he’s supposed to. And then it’s up to Rapp to accidentally save the day – not through impressive investigatory skills or levelheadedness, but with the help of pure luck. No one uses intelligence to outmaneuver the opposition; everyone happens upon fortunate scenarios or are given specific opportunities to overcome calamities. “You let emotion cloud your judgment; never ever let it get personal,” orders Hurley. But then Mitch proceeds to conduct himself solely through uncontrollable emotions and deeply personal motivations, for which he realizes haphazard victory after victory.

– Mike Massie