The Lone Ranger is a bricolage of crashing, gunfire and explosions - and nothing else.

Mention Gore Verbinksi and an image is conjured in my mind’s eye: a five year-old boy playing with stereotypical mass-produced toys- trucks, army figurines and maybe some Duplo.

Hours later, he’s still at it, never tiring nor requiring an injection of dialogue or semblance of plot because his attention is held steady by the sounds of crashing, gunfire and explosions.

Normal for an infant, but bewildering when an adult male continuously and increasingly throughout his career subjects us to films which presume we are overgrown, mentally-limited kids, thus sure to be mesmerised by a constant influx of commotion and visuals. Relentlessly. For over two hours.


The Lone Ranger certainly provides the backdrop and sound effects – but it can’t conceal the absence of character development, variation, originality or purpose.

In essence, a tightly-wound masked lawmaker teams up with a delusional Comanche Indian to exact revenge on the hooligan who carved out his beloved brother’s ticker.

This basic premise unfolds quickly, and unfortunately, what follows is a very long, bordering on masturbatory collection of tired clichés and loud noises (imagine that in Brick’s voice to get a sense of the decibels).

 Disney’s latest and highly-promoted film has so far underperformed catastrophically at the box office -- with such an excess of zoom-ins on timepieces and not much focus whatsoever on anything else, it’s not surprising.  

Depp loses depth

Just the other day I channel-surfed over to Edward Scissorhands, and the veracity of Depp’s fall from integrity, promise and grace was stark: the Johnny of the past is the anathema of what we have seen over the past few years.

Jack Sparrow’s toothless grin and inebriated strut was a career game-changer, but with the franchise’s ensuing commercialisation and commodification of a man long associated with complex characters subjected to unbearable social isolation, Depp has lost the audacious, original and quiet charm of his preceding eccentric roles. His career choices have become simply unbearable.  

Furthermore, The Lone Ranger demonstrates that Johnny Depp, perhaps now too accustomed to figuratively bathing in dollar bills and gaudy Camden Market-chic chains, doesn’t care about quality.

It’s a pity, however, that no one involved in this production cared about boring its audience.

150 minutes long, and the most satisfying aspect of the viewing experience was the bathroom break which I took only to relieve myself of this insultingly brainless waste of talent and time. 


The Lone Ranger is in cinemas August 9.