Justification of his God given looks, maybe. An edgy, heartfelt, identifiable biker journey this is not. C movie acting coupled with a misguided search for vintage 70's film quality culminating in a desperate plea for relevancy leaves Mamoa's directing debut shallow as a Mohave grave.
This movie in it's failed attempts for breakthrough imagery and quintessential Tarantino leave similar delves such as Revenge Ride looking like masterpieces in its' poorly conceived wake. One can almost hear Mamoa's pleading with the camera crew to capture the rawness of the southwest as he needlessly revs the bike he can barely ride. Please skip this and use those found minutes in a way that warrants more critical acclaim, such as using the restroom.
This movie in it's failed attempts for breakthrough imagery and quintessential Tarantino leave similar delves such as Revenge Ride looking like masterpieces in its' poorly conceived wake. One can almost hear Mamoa's pleading with the camera crew to capture the rawness of the southwest as he needlessly revs the bike he can barely ride. Please skip this and use those found minutes in a way that warrants more critical acclaim, such as using the restroom.