Jeff Bridges collects a big paycheck but burns through a good chunk of his reservoir of Oscar-winning good will with R.I.P.D., the worst comic book adaptation since Jonah Hex.
Id say he drags Ryan Reynolds down with him, but Reynolds is an old hand at mediocre movies adapted from that medium. As Nick, hes a bland and generic Boston cop morally tested by temptation, murdered by his immoral partner (Kevin Bacon).
Its Bridges, doing a sort of Wild Bill-Rooster Cogburn-by-way-of-The Dude, who sticks his neck out. Hes a long-dead Old West lawman named Roy who is Nicks new partner in the Rest in Peace Department dead cops who get to redeem their reps, post mortem, by keeping the Evil Dead in their place.
And as faintly amusing and reminiscent of Tommy Lee Jones Men in Black turn as this might be, theres no way these two smart guys didnt see this was piffle on the page. This is a movie with no depth, no intellectual heft and zero ambition. Theres not an original thought, action, character or situation in between the big, expensive effects.
Good comic book movies have scripts that simply use them as a launching pad to something deeper. Bad comic book movies showcase the shortcomings of that medium broad, colorful characters in inane stories.
A little Ghost, a lot of Men in Black, R.I.P.D. has Mary-Louise Parker as the Proctor of the Afterlife, the station chief who pairs up partners and gives these guys their marching orders. Keep the Dead-Os MIB-like monster people from returning to Earth and taking over.
The cops have appropriate weapons. The living can see them, just not in their former guises. So Roy looks like bombshell blond Marissa Miller, and Nick can never convince his widow (Stephanie Szostak) that hes not the Chinese character actor James Hong. More should have been done with that.
Roy is a trigger-happy gunslinger willin to lethal up when the need occurs. Nick just struggles to adjust to being nearly indestructible, but able to feel the pain of plummeting from great heights and getting hit by a truck. Roy sings, plays the concertina, does cute tricks with guns and his hat, and wisecracks about the soul stank of the Dead-Os.
Only Parker, deadpanning her way through afterlife, escapes scorn. You kind of wish shed been paired with Bridges in a mismatched buddy comedy. Ill bet Reynolds wishes that, too.