Numerous supercilious Internet reviewers have noted how they were “hip to the twist” and how the latest Jon Avnet film is an example of lazy filmmaking at its worst. To be kind, these are the same folks who are only too happy to heap praise on a film featuring a forty-something year old man dancing around like a coked out clown, while another shrewdly slaves away making a fucking dildo machine in his basement… all in the name of good comedy. Yeah, I’m laughing. This is the kind of damaged nonsense passing as Oscar-worthy material while another film with less lofty ambitions, gets trashed for delivering what its trailer promised – an enjoyable crime thriller featuring two ageing but still relevant Hollywood heavyweights.

Said so long ago by anti-hero Travis Bickle: “Someday a real rain will come and wash away all the scum.” Well, it seems like someone is taking this sentiment to heart and has busied himself dirtying New York City sidewalks with the blood of the so-called scum. Nobody cares, not even the cops looking into the homicides, suggesting at one point, that somebody should give the culprit a medal. The rain seems to coming in the form of a badge, or at least that’s what the Detectives investigating the case are thinking. His calling card is a poem, and he has been quite versed at offing those criminals who have remained untouched by law or who have skated on technicalities and such. The two veterans in charge of the investigation, Detective Turk (Robert De Niro) and Detective Rooster (Al Pacino), have been working together for thirty years and are so in tune with each other they can finish the others sentences. Neither of them likes the direction the case is heading, something prompted by a couple of hot-headed youngsters on the force, Detectives Perez (John Leguizamo) and Riley (Donnie Wahlberg), even though all the clues seem to be positioned back in the direction of the NYPD, namely at Turk himself. Turk’s sado-masochistic relationship with fellow officer Carla Gugino seems to add yet another layer to a character already visibly shadow boxing with his inner demons.

Judging from all the reviews and righteous indignation tossed in the direction of the film, I’m starting to wonder if the critics are calling each other beforehand to get their stories straight. “They are like Lennon and McCartney,” one fellow in “Righteous Kill” puts it, and when it comes to film criticism, the comparison is spot on. With the exception of only a handful, the majority seem intent on pointing out how decipherable the plot twist is and how they could see it a mile away. Of course they could and I’m guessing that even if they didn’t, that little detail would probably not show up in their reviews. I mean, you have to save face. You have to keep the free passes and screeners rolling in – which means altering your review in order to conform to what your peers have to say. I'm not interested in maintaining the status quo, I guess.

Following an explosive opening sequence where our two cinematic titans make fireworks at a shooting range, there’s a jolting shot of a haggard DeNiro speaking on what appears to be a hazy black and white monitor. He is being observed by two lawyer-types, seated in a darkened office. On the tape, DeNiro tensely confesses to a series of brutal homicides. “I’ve killed 14 people,” he says, in a gruff, disheartened voice. The one lawyer turns and looks at the other, muttering, “This guy’s crazy.” That single utterance absolutely and unequivocally set the mood for me to love this film, and, hell, I did. While others began looking for a twist, I became immersed in the notion of the confession. Instead of twists and turns, I was interested in the examination to come, watching as a police veteran, in hazy black and white video admissions, detailed his freefall into extreme self-destruction and vigilantism – while his partner either directly or indirectly ushered his cause. The fun was getting away with it, playing the system the way the criminals did, only with a different more righteous outcome. The American dream derailed.

For me, this was a contemporary western about a good sheriff gone grey and telling all. That’s how they did it back then– the good guys faced few moral qualms when the righteousness of their cause was put to the test. This is Gary Cooper in “High Noon”. Granted the twist, offered up in its final moments, deflated some of my personal gush as it revealed some glaringly manipulative elements, I still enjoyed the film immensely. Clearly the signs were there but hey, I wasn’t looking for them. I didn’t care. To me, DeNiro was the killer and the story progression was a murder checklist – flowing as his homicides piled up, eventually arriving at some wrong move he made and, ultimately, where we began.

One reviewer claimed that De Niro and Pacino looked “haggard, exhausted and unfailingly disinterested” in his critique of the film. Considering that both De Niro and Pacino are playing police officers that have served together and apart for nearly half a century, I’m guessing that their characters would be haggard, exhausted and unfailingly disinterested. I also think this statement is fallacious. De Niro’s performance is more downbeat and hardened – there’s a lot going on behind those sad eyes, while Pacino’s work is more rowdy, borderline feral in later scenes as things begin to fall apart. Even his jokes take on a hokey feel (“It’s been a long time since I rattled someone’s cage”), as his thoughts grow less and less clear. His observations, comforting to De Niro early on, become more and more bizarre as the film moves forward. It’s been a long time since Michael Mann’s “Heat” paired these two up in a scene and, as a film lover, it’s a wonderful thing to see them back together and playing off each other as only they can. Even though De Niro gets to work alongside his old pal Pacino, I’m guessing the real incentive for his choice to work on the film is the steamy bedroom tussling he does with saucy Carla Gugino (2007's "Rise: Blood Hunter"). I could go on about Curtis Jackson (2005's "Get rich or Die Tryin'") and Trilby Glover (2005's "Son of the Mask") but who cares, the real stars are De Niro and Pacino and everyone knows it.

I could give a shit what the critics have to say about this film. I know that I enjoyed “Righteous Kill” and I won’t deride a film that thoroughly entertained me, not even when the winds are blowing that way.