At first I thought it was audacious for Getaway to give itself a title that so obviously evoked the Sam Peckinpah/Steve McQueen classic. Now I have a new theory: The producers had never heard of that film.
I only say that because Getaway is so bad it gives the sense that, not only has director Courtney Solomon not seen The Getaway, it’s quite possible he’s never seen any film at all. (Okay, correct that: This is his third film, Lord help us, so he’s at least seen two others.)
Actually, calling this thing a “film” is a stretch. It’s a series of stunts—car chases—that only pause briefly to let us catch our breath. And it’s a testimony to how bad the film is that even those breathers make no logical sense (they’re this film’s version of the gang of thugs who calmly wait, one by one, to be beaten up by our hero).
Here’s the “plot”: Retired NASCAR driver Brent Magna (Ethan Hawke, growling, goateed—basically doing a bad Christian Bale impression), now living in Bulgaria, comes home to find that his apartment has been ransacked and his wife kidnapped. (Just for the record, even in these first moments his behavior rang false: Instead of running through the house frantically...