Do you remember Mr. Wolf from Pulp Fiction? Played with memorable gusto by Harvey Keitel, Mr. Wolf arrives at a home after Vincent (John Travolta) and Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) accidently blow off a witness’s head. Mr. Wolf appears in a slick suit and he makes things spic and span. He’s a clean-up man. He’s the guy you never want to dial, but he’ll save your butt if you ever do smash that call button.
Mr. Wolf echoes throughout Wolfs, an aptly titled caper from writer/director Jon Watts (Spider-Man: No Way Home). It’s not as clean a job as the man who inspired it might like, but it does the trick. George Clooney and Brad Pitt star as a duo of Mr. Wolfs. They have as mean a grip on a bottle of Windex as Mr. Wolf might, and they’re pro fixers. Watts gives them a mild contemporary twist as the fixers trade the suits and ties for smart, but non-descript, bomber jackets and black pants. But, even at their age, the idea of George and Brad blending into a crowd is Wolfs’ biggest plot hole.
The wolves come out a night when a district attorney (Amy Ryan) finds herself in a bloody pickle. She’s checked into a swanky hotel with a boytoy, who fell off the bed, crashed through some glass, and died. It’s a scandal, for sure, and one that needs a wolf. But soon after her fixer (Clooney) arrives on the scene, another one (Pitt) does too. A quick call from Pam (Frances McDormand), the hotel owner, turns the rival fixers into partners. Once they commit to the job, they have to see it through to ensure they’re both in the clear.
Wolfs spends a chatty first act laying out the rules for fixing a scene. The clean-up crew scrubs the suite and disposes of the body meticulously. Neither client can expect a scandal.
But while sweeping the room, fixer number two finds a knapsack full of drugs. Moments later, the dead guy (Austin Abrams), turns out to be alive. He’s just overdosing on some of said potent drugs. The job changes as the wolves realise their quick clean-up just got a whole new layer of mess.
The wolves chase their druggy rabbit around town as they try to ascertain who is on either side of his drug drop. What follows is a zany odyssey through the underbelly of the city. Under-the-table doctors, Albanian drug lords, and rival Croatian gangs add to the mess. But the wolves can’t quite Marie Kondo their way out of it.
Watts, however ambitious, sometimes struggles to make good buddies out of the two genres at play. The comedy is light and snappy, if repetitive and overdrawn in some scenes that unfold almost in real time, while others careen by. The director has a better handle on the action, including one breakneck chase that ensues when the not-dead cargo escapes in his tighty whities. The setpiece makes great use of the actors’ physical comedy, particularly Clooney’s, as the wolves crack playfully hunt their prey, while a popping wedding scene set to Culture Beat’s “Mr. Vain” helps erase any self-seriousness of this pulpy affair. Wolfs is breezy splat-n-chuckle escapism.
Wolfs kicks into buddy comedy mode as the fixers accept to reconcile their differences. As two men entrusted with secrets, they know that being together puts their lives at risk. Watts doesn’t really aim for anything original here as Clooney and Pitt do a contemporary Abbott and Costello routine with traded barbs and lines flipped back upon one another. It’s not exactly Ocean’s 11—or, hell, Ocean’s 13—but it’s hard to deny that few actor combos have the chemistry that Clooney and Pitt share. Their rapport can sell pretty much anything, and they’re clearly having a lot of fun together here. Give them a buddy comedy and they gamely elevate the material. It’s hard to complain about such a pair of sly silver foxes.
