[rating=8.00]
You’d probably expect that a movie with the ridiculous title The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot would be the kind of movie that you shouldn’t expect much from. It’s a title ready made for midnight movie glory, a callback to a more ridiculous time in cinematic history when B-movies delivered all their promises in the title. When what you read on the marquis of the grindhouse downtown was exactly what you got. In this case, you’d be wrong.
Okay, well not entirely. The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot is in fact about a man, Calvin Barr (Sam Elliot), who, in his youth, killed Hitler and then later, as an old man, is tasked with killing Bigfoot. Sometimes a title holds in it a promise. This title is one that has promise built into it by design and on that promise it delivers. But over and over again, watching The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot, a single word lodged itself in my mind and refused to leave, repeating itself over and over again.
Pathos.
You wouldn’t expect a movie with a title like The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot to be the kind of movie that embraces pathos, that strives to tell an emotional story, that yearns to peek into the heart of the human condition…and yet here we are. Somehow, some way, The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot is a movie with pathos to spare.
It would be easy to pin this entirely on the back of Elliot, who seems to be in the midst of a late-career boon playing characters filled with elderly remorse. In a way, The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot makes a suitable companion piece to 2017’s The Hero, which found Elliot starring as an elderly movie star making peace with his mortality. Barr is a similar character, shockingly. And though we may cheer as his younger self (played by Aidan Turner) kills Hitler and whoop as his older self hunts the legendary cryptid through the Canadian wilderness, both Elliot and his script are all too aware of the sadness innate in the character.
Writer/director Robert D. Krzykowski pulls something of a misdirection with his debut feature. He’s hidden a movie about regret, remorse, grief, and longing inside a perfectly serviceable midnight classic. At first it’s almost frustrating the slow pace of the film—we came here for two reasons, honestly: to see a man kill Hitler and then, later, kill Bigfoot—but Krzykowski is playing in deeper waters.
Barr is a man haunted. His defining moment of violence—which is to say, killing Hitler—hasn’t sat well with him. Not because Hitler didn’t deserve to be killed, but because Barr’s not the kind of man who typically resorts to violence. So much so that when he’s asked by agents of the American and Canadian governments (Ron Livingston and Rizwan Manji, respectively) to kill Bigfoot—who, it turns out, is the carrier of a potentially devastating strain of the flu—his instinct is to turn away. He’s done his killing, and he wants no part of any more, not even of a beast.
The time he spends delaying our gratification of the film’s promises is time he spends exploring the pain that moves Barr, the pain that keeps him stunted, the pain that locks him away. Elliot has an innate understanding of the regrets and remorse an aging man might feel, and he taps into a swirling reservoir of sadness that brings Barr and his absurd situation to life.
Yes, The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot is a silly B-movie that promises to thrill and delight midnight movie goers for some time, but it’s one that is unafraid to stare down the toils of the human condition and explore the grief that makes a man. When you make a movie called The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot you are absolutely honor bound to deliver on the premise of its title, Krzykowski and Elliot do far more than that here. Together they give you not only what you came to see but also a movie that’s shockingly emotional.
The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot is now playing in select theaters.
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