On this evidence, perhaps Antonio Banderas should stick to singing and Morgan Freeman to depicting the kind of elder statesman for which he's recognised.
With a storyline that careers from the painfully schematic to the needlessly convoluted by way of the interminably obvious, this sub-par heist film pairs up the unlikely duo as an ageing art thief and his younger accomplice, who undertake a journey through the Russian criminal underworld of New York to try to steal a pair of Fabergé eggs, via a series of increasingly dodgy accents. The dialogue is stilted, the plot as thin as Banderas's hair, and even the plethora of twists can't rescue the movie from mediocrity.
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