Formula 51

Boston Globe Ty Burr

Bloody and bloody funny, and Jackson and Carlyle make the best salt-and-pepper team since Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte knocked heads in ''48 HRS., '' but ultimately the movie can't find a way out of its own dead end.

ReelViews James Berardinelli

It is possible, however improbable, that a "bad" movie can still be highly enjoyable. Formula 51 is such a film.

Film Threat Clint Morris

Sure it’s brainless fun, but Formula 51 is a trip well worth taking.

The Globe and Mail (Toronto) Ray Conlogue

A formula flick. And the formula is not 51 times more entertaining than usual. Maybe 1.5, at best.

Seattle Post-Intelligencer William Arnold

Outrageously confident and wearing a kilt through the mayhem, Jackson proves once again that he has few equals in bringing off a broad, over-the-top lead.

USA Today Mike Clark

Anything goes, though director Ronny Yu keeps the idiocy on a fast pace.

Philadelphia Inquirer Steven Rea

A messy fish-out-of-water gangland romp.

Entertainment Weekly Owen Gleiberman

The film should have been called ''Lock, Stock and Two Wilting Barrels.''

TV Guide Maitland McDonagh

Cocky, vulgar and very noisy picture.

Chicago Tribune Michael Wilmington

It's a movie that puts Samuel Jackson in kilts, Robert Carlyle in a red Jaguar, and the audience -- if they have any sense at all -- out in the lobby, looking for another picture.

Charlotte Observer Lawrence Toppman

Passed as slowly as if I'd been sitting naked on an igloo, Formula 51 sank from quirky to jerky to utter turkey.

Baltimore Sun Michael Sragow

It has graceful layers and folds and a nice swing to it, and Jackson moves superbly in it. Unfortunately, I'm talking about the kilt, not the movie.

Salon.com Jeff Stark

If explosive defecation is your idea of a laff riot, this picture -- and the Headrillaz soundtrack, by extension -- should be perfect fun.

The Onion (A.V. Club) Scott Tobias

Too often, Formula 51 fails to differentiate between gleeful excess and white noise.

Village Voice Justine Elias

Emily Mortimer and Robert Carlyle generate heat as criminal lovers, but most of the cast just engages in embarrassing scenery-gnawing.

Chicago Sun-Times Roger Ebert

A fourth-rate "Pulp Fiction" with accents you can't understand.

New York Daily News Jack Mathews

Only Emily Mortimer maintains a measure of dignity, playing the slinky assassin named Dakota. Whether her restraint was by her design or the filmmakers', she'll come to appreciate that she all but disappears amid the caterwauling and purging of a story that should have died in Liverpool.

San Francisco Chronicle Edward Guthmann

It isn't simple bad taste that Formula 51 deals in, but a total vacuum of feeling.

New York Post Lou Lumenick

Desperately unfunny and unexciting.

Miami Herald Rene Rodriguez

Feels like it's been pasted together from 51 other movies -- none of them good.

Variety Derek Elley

There's an appalling amount of talent at waste up on the screen, starting with Jackson and Carlyle whose tall/short, silent/motormouth double act never clicks.

Chicago Reader J.R. Jones

This tired action comedy is the usual weave of over-the-top violence and cross-cultural shtick.

LA Weekly John Patterson

A waste of the filmmakers' time and ours, and offering further evidence that, outside the art house, much British cinema has its head jammed tightly up its own arse.

Austin Chronicle Marc Savlov

A muddled mess of bad-lad clichés, and Jackson's obvious talents only serve to point out how godawful everyone else seems to be.

The New York Times Dana Stevens

A witless, gruesome barrage of jokey violence and lame trans-Atlantic humor, kept moving by the pointless, derivative kineticism of Mr. Yu's hyperactive cuts and splices.

Portland Oregonian Marc Mohan

As sometimes occurs in unsupervised experiments, the result proves foul-smelling and potentially toxic.

Washington Post Desson Thomson

Stars Samuel L. Jackson in the worst role of his career -- one hopes.

Los Angeles Times Manohla Dargis

An execrable mess that leaves no genre cliché unturned or human body or soul untrammeled.

Washington Post Stephen Hunter

Not a second of it is believable; not a tenth of a second of it is refreshing; not a millionth of a second is worthwhile