In October of 2014, I left a screening of John Wick with a surprised smile on my face, amazed by how much I had enjoyed the little-marketed sleeper action hit.
But as much as the smooth cinematography and fluid stunt work drew me in, I was most enamored with the world radiating in the film’s background. The first John Wick film introduced us to an underground subculture of assassins who treat each other with professional courtesy, observe workplace etiquette, use industry-specific jargon, and apparently roll so hard that it’s just easier to pay bills in solid gold coins. John Wick doesn’t leave the audience wanting for much, but if there’s anything to explore in that franchise, it’s “more character actors doing behind-the-scenes assassin hotel antics.”
It’s from this logic that one can see the genesis of Hotel Artemis, a film which is not about an actual hotel for criminals, but a hospital for criminals posing as an abandoned hotel, which has kept its neon sign blazing for 22 years without anyone questioning it. The hospital is run by an agoraphobic alcoholic referred to as The Nurse (Jodie Foster) with the help of her orderly/security guard Everest (Dave Bautista). On this particular night, set in June 2028, the Los Angeles skyline is in flames as riots run through the streets over the privatization of water rights, because this film also wants to be a Running Man-style speculative future sci-fi film.
Concierge beats you with a stick if you ask for directions to the lounge. Zero stars, would not recommend this hotel.
However, the futuristic setting and war against corporations is treated mostly as a backdrop for the internal comings and goings of the Artemis’ patients: A charismatic professional thief (Sterling K. Brown) trying to get his brother (Atlanta’s Brian Tyree Henry) patched up after a botched robbery; a lecherous arms dealer (Charlie Day); a femme-fatale assassin (Sophia Boutella); the underground gangster king of Los Angeles (Jeff Goldblum); and a police officer (Jenny Slate) with ties to The Nurse’s’ past. If this seems like a lot to you, don’t worry: None of these storylines intersect in any impactful or meaningful way, so you’re fine.
In fact, this entire film has so many ideas running throughout, so many extra plot threads and characters, that once the audience realizes they’re not getting any action in their action movie, they will revert to pleading and bargaining with the movie. “Please just pick one point and stay with it. Please, let me care about these characters even a little.” The closest the film comes to coherence is constantly reminding us of The Nurse’s dead son, leading to a reveal which is neither shocking nor interesting because we’ve made no connection to these characters. Some plot points are given little to no explanation, while others are overly detailed through heavy-handed expository dialogue. At multiple points, a scene will halt whatever little momentum it has so a character can look directly at the camera and explain their motivations. The film’s most egregious example comes from Zachary Quinto who, by the way, is also in this movie for some reason.
Quinto aside, this film is full of likable people trying their hardest to absolutely no avail.
Sterling K. Brown is trying to be charming, Bautista is attempting to deliver his Guardians-type deadpan humor, Charlie Day is doing his best Joe Pesci impression; none of it works. Jodie Foster attempts to carry the movie on The Nurse’s quirks and neuroses, but that’s not enough to make a main character work, especially not in an ensemble spread this thin.
Coming to Fox this fall: Grandma Cop, MD!
The only members of the crew pulling their weight are composer Cliff Martinez and cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung, and even that’s frustrating because both are masters of their craft relegated to putting in passing work here. If there’s a finger to point, it should be at writer/director/producer Drew Pearce, whose only other notable credit appears to be helping Shane Black write Iron Man 3. (Side note, Shane Black could have made this film work.) While there’s something to be said for ambition, Pearce has clearly bitten off more than he can chew here. Hotel Artemis is what happens when one person thinks all their ideas are good ones and no one’s around to tell them otherwise.
In this regard, Hotel Artemis feels very out-of-place in 2018. Although the marketing clearly wants to evoke John Wick in premise, and the film sets to strike a 1970s crime/sci-fi tone, in execution it is unlike either of these. Instead, it feels most like the slew of vaguely-connected Tarantino-lite ensembles which perforated the mid-90s post-Pulp Fiction. It’s not a good look, to say the least. Hotel Artemis is an overstuffed, directionless mess that will ultimately be forgotten, and none of us will be the sadder for it.