The action cinema of the 1980s and 1990s was ruled by a very specific kind of masculine fantasy: invincible heroes, slow-motion one-liners, endless gunfire and explosions, all wrapped in a misplaced sense of humor that became its own calling card. Play Dirty, the new film by Shane Black starring Mark Wahlberg, feels like a “best of” compilation of that entire era.

Every scene brings déjà vu: one heist after another, a plot that twists itself only out of obligation, cartoonish villains, and untrustworthy allies. The hero, of course, is always one step ahead—but never with any real dramatic weight. Instead, he exudes the artificial confidence of someone who’s survived on bravado and stray bullets. The humor shows up but rarely lands; the twists arrive but feel predictable; the action piles up but seldom convinces.

The result is a movie that entertains on the surface—there’s sparkle, there’s noise, there’s rhythm—but evaporates the moment it ends. The viewer follows along effortlessly, but never with real engagement. There are no real stakes, no sustained emotion. What remains is the feeling of having spent two hours watching a jigsaw puzzle made of clichés—a harmless pastime that leaves no trace.

At the center of it all, Mark Wahlberg seems to be operating on cruise control. His presence doesn’t hurt the film, but it doesn’t elevate it either. The supporting cast—LaKeith Stanfield and Rosa Salazar among them—try to bring nuance, yet remain trapped in the same repetitive machinery.

Parker (Wahlberg) is a seasoned thief, pragmatic and impatient, guided by an old-school code of criminal honor. The film opens with an ambitious heist at a racetrack’s counting room—the classic “one last job” that, of course, goes wrong. One partner is betrayed, another is killed, and Parker barely makes it out alive.

Wounded and hiding in a run-down motel, he discovers that his partner, Zen (Salazar) was the one who betrayed him. From there, Play Dirty unfolds as a string of revenge plots, double-crosses, and improvised alliances that stack on top of one another. Parker teams up with Grofield (Stanfield), a thief who splits his time between crime and the stage—literally, he runs a failing theater company—and together they dive into an increasingly delirious storyline involving the New York mob, mercenaries, and even a South American dictator trying to finance a diplomatic coup with a sunken treasure.

Shane Black, best known for balancing humor and violence in films like Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and Iron Man 3, tries to repeat that formula here—mixing explosive action, sarcasm, and a touch of melancholy. But what could have been a sharp parody of the genre ends up feeling more like a scrapbook of references.

There are guns, explosions, one-liners, and femme fatales, but little that actually connects them. Motivations get lost among double betrayals and overcomplicated schemes, and the audience watches more out of inertia than investment. Wahlberg does what he always does—the stoic tough guy who muscles through every situation—but the character never gains emotional weight.

In the end, Play Dirty is exactly what its title promises: a dirty game, both literally and narratively. A film that distracts but leaves no mark; one more interested in celebrating a fading brand of masculinity than reinventing the genre. A pastime, in the most neutral sense of the word.