The Accountant

Possibly the dullest title in Hollywood history casts Ben Affleck as the titular number cruncher, an autistic child who overcomes his handicap through tough army training and a disciplinarian father.

It’s in no way a good film, but I enjoyed it. Affleck achieves the presumably long-held ambition to write maths on the window, something he saw his buddy Matt Damon do way back in Good Will Hunting.

But this accountant works for various mobs, gangsters and international money launderers, gets paid in Jackson Pollocks, and also kicks ass and shoots and strangles people, while almost having a first-ever relationship with goofy geeky accounts girl Anna Kendrick while together they uncover some auditing errors in a billionaire’s robotics company. I can’t count the ways this film is ridiculous, you almost give up.

Meanwhile, the FBI are hunting him in the shape of JK Simmons’ dogged, nearly-retired bureau chief, aided by the impressive Cynthia Addai-Robinson.

There are so many plot-lines, crossed wires and flashbacks going on, you (and clearly the director) forget what’s supposed to be the main story, but it really doesn’t matter too much. This is perfectly good rubbish, trashy and silly, not without humour, tonally all over the place and visually uninspiring but, you know what, it might even be headed for a franchise. As ever, it depends on the numbers.

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