Blood Work

After appearing in 44 films and directing 23, Clint Eastwood apparently now just goes through the motions, as the rest of the cast and crew does here in this dimwitted adaptation of Michael Connelly’s novel. When an over-the-hill detective—played by Eastwood, who has developed a rather noticeable chin waddle—attempts to apprehend a wanted criminal, the only arrest that is made is a cardiac one. Only two months after the aging dick collapses from this heart attack and receives an emergency heart transplant, the senior citizen miraculously can chase killers, solve crimes and dodge bullets once again, just as long as he touches his chest every now and again to convince us in the possibility of such a speedy recovery. To add some intentional comic relief in the already laughable script, Jeff Daniels co-stars as the harmonica playing boat bum hired as the Driving Miss Daisy paid in beer. Now there’s action and comedy, what about sappy emotional cheese? This bogus dilemma is solved by the soap opera quality acting and fabricated romance that is just as contrived as the underdeveloped and disjointed clues which we are supposed to eat up just because Mr. Dirty Harry says so. Blood Work is some rather bland work.


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