What’s it worth to you to witness Oscar nominee Sam Elliott covered, iconic mustache dripping, with projectile Bigfoot vomit? The success of The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot hinges on such fantasies you never thought you harbored until you heard about them, such fantasies as a well-respected actor playing a man who first killed Hitler and then later, in his twilight years amidst the everpresent shadows of a lifetime of regret, killed the Bigfoot. Sam Elliott is Calvin Barr, the man who killed Hitler and then the Bigfoot, who in between got a dog and befriended the local barkeep and roughed up a few small town ne’er-do-wells. One night, his routine’s upended when he’s accosted by some thugs, whom he efficiently dispatches with the hand-to-hand combat training of a man who probably killed Hitler and might later kill the Bigfoot. The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot is an exquisitely boring movie, a promise of high-concept adventure that only delivers a stiflingly melancholy ode to the unknown soldier. We’re afforded no evidence as to how Barr transformed into the world’s leading Hitler/Bigfoot killer, a super-soldier we’re told is an expert tracker, can speak hundreds of languages, wields endless charm-what background we are given, in flashbacks to Barr’s pre-war courting days, are so treacly and sentimental and painfully ordinary it’s near impossible to gauge why we should even care about Barr at all, besides that he’s played by Sam Elliott, and that he’d go on to kill Hitler and then, later, the Bigfoot. At one point, Barr admits that killing Hitler actually did nothing to cease the tide of Nazi dominance, that the “Idea” of Hitler carried on, living in the minds the man had polluted. In the absence of a depth of character, The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot subsists on that title, exists because of that title, alone.
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