Make no mistake: Exit Wounds is a dumb showcase for Steven Seagal's muscular `skills' which clings blindly to all the rules of the no-brain action genre and delivers every cliché accordingly. As maverick cop Boyd, Seagal is the master of chump-fisted predictability, a man with a right to be angry, a right to be violent and a right (goddamn it) to own a gun.
His strength unaffected by the loss of his trademark ponytail, beefy Steve does little more than act with his knuckles, his furrowed brow and his Klingon hairline. He glowers, oozing inexplicable hate as he displays his unswerving dedication to a clean America. It is, frankly, painful to watch. Thank God, then, for rapper DMX who, compared with the despicable star, is worth his weight in gold teeth, putting in a commendable performance as a misunderstood internet entrepreneur.
Yet not even DMX can save Exit Wounds from itself. You see, it's not content to merely be a dumb action flick - - oh no - - but rather aims at those who, like its star, see themselves as thinking action men. Characters shamefacedly mention contemporary events and tell in-jokes, with comments on male self-help groups, Tupac and Puffy references and even some wince-inducing cracks about dot-com millionaires who escaped "before the bottom fell out of the thing."
Exit Wounds is not good, nor is it entertaining. But it is coherent in its carnage. Viewers who like their action loud and plotlines light will be content - the opening scene alone delivers nine dead cops and an exploding helicopter. But those who like more discrimination in their brutalities should stay away, because they'll miss nothing, bar some inventive weaponry, in the all-brawn and no-bite nonsense that follows.