Tin Soldier (2025 - Jamie Foxx Joins the Cult of Confusion

The Bokushi offers a program for US combat veterans seeking their "purpose" and path forward. Now the Government is concerned with the rapid rise of this well-armed, highly trained, and eternally devoted Shinjas in the cult-like "Program."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAcS-s2DmEY

Alright folks, let’s file Tin Soldier under the category of “Looked Good in the Trailer, Felt Like Jury Duty in Real Time.” I walked into this one thinking I was about to get a heavy-hitting psychological thriller with action, introspection, and a little military-cult intrigue. Instead, I got Jamie Foxx as a wannabe Charles Manson with a gym membership, Scott Eastwood on a mopey acid trip, and Robert De Niro phoning it in between AARP meetings and political fundraisers.

Let me be clear: I like Jamie Foxx. In fact, the man could probably read aloud from a Cheesecake Factory menu and make it sound like Shakespeare with street cred. But this? This is Jamie turning in a performance that’s either brilliant and misunderstood or just a half-step away from the kind of thing you’d see on a Dr. Phil cult special sponsored by GNC.

Foxx plays The Bokushi - which sounds like a trendy sushi spot in West Hollywood, but is actually the self-appointed messiah of a cult made up of former U.S. combat vets. His "Program" gives traumatized soldiers a new lease on life… and apparently a semi-automatic weapons upgrade. They're called Shinjas - like Shinobi meets Ninja with a dash of Dr. Scholl’s. These guys are fit, focused, and fully down to die for the Bokushi, which would be super interesting if we had more than a cocktail napkin's worth of character development.

Enter Scott Eastwood - who’s essentially doing a live-action Sad Cowboy filter from Instagram. He plays Nash, a former Shinja who’s now torn between stopping the Bokushi and wrestling with his own emotional PTSD piñata. And while Scott’s jawline deserves its own SAG card, the emotional depth doesn’t quite cash the checks the visuals are trying to write. His inner torment gets the full kaleidoscope treatment - psychedelic dreamscapes, shaky flashbacks, that whole nine yards. Honestly, it feels like someone sprinkled shrooms into a Call of Duty cutscene.

And then there’s De Niro. Oh Bobby. You remember when De Niro commanded the screen with a glance? Now it’s more like a guy whose GPS rerouted him onto a movie set by accident. He plays some crusty government agent named Ashburn, who recruits Nash to take down the cult because… reasons? His dialogue feels like deleted scenes from a better movie, and his delivery makes it clear he’s either over it or just praying no one brings up his last ten political rants.

Now, you might be thinking: “Maybe it’s got great pacing, Dan?” Yeah, and maybe I’m the next host of Jeopardy. This movie crawls like a Roomba stuck under a couch. The tension never builds, the action stutters out like a cheap vape pen, and the big reveals are about as shocking as a lukewarm bath. Every time it feels like it might go somewhere, we get hit with another flashback or musical moment. Speaking of which - why so much singing lately, Hollywood? It’s like every movie thinks it’s auditioning for a surprise drop on Broadway. I came for a cult action flick, not Jamie Foxx Live: Unplugged from the Compound.

And let’s talk cinematography. Look, I’m all for creative visuals, but this was like watching an episode of Black Mirror on a boat during a thunderstorm. Disorienting for effect? Sure. But too much of that and you just look like you dropped the camera down a flight of stairs and yelled “Art!”

Even the score is… meh. You know when the background music in a film fades and you barely notice? That’s Tin Soldier. It’s the cinematic equivalent of office waiting room jazz - present, uninspired, and instantly forgettable. They could’ve scored this with Jamie Foxx humming into a soup can and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Now to be fair - and I mean really scraping the bottom of the popcorn bag here - there are a few silver linings. The movie was shot in under 50 days, which, given the product, makes a lot of sense. Christian George, who plays FBI agent Yates, showed up with a legit leg injury, and instead of recasting or CGI-ing him into a velociraptor, the writers just rolled with it and let the cast ad-lib around his limp. Honestly, that’s the kind of scrappy, improv spirit that deserved a better script to play with.

But here’s the thing: by the time the credits roll, you’ll probably be halfway into Googling if you’ve already seen this before. It has that “Déjà Meh” quality. The kind of film you half-watch on a flight while contemplating the existential meaning of the beverage cart.

Scott Eastwood shows promise - don’t get me wrong. There’s a smolder in there, somewhere between his dad Clint’s iconic glower and a guy trying to remember where he parked his Jeep. I hope he finds better material soon because this ain’t it.

Foxx? He gave it his all, and while I admire the risk of playing a delusional, poetic cult leader in full “Rasputin by way of Coachella” mode, it felt more like a late-career résumé builder than a real acting triumph.

Final Verdict: 5.0/10

Watch it if you're curious… or trapped in an Airbnb with bad Wi-Fi.

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