Metacritic reviews

Konchalovsky handles the slam-bang action with robust efficiency, but what makes this shoot-'em-up nonsense surprisingly watchable is Randy Feldman's rapid-fire dialogue, which constantly undercuts the macho posturings while parodying Stallone's screen image...even though the spectacularly empty finale eschews character-based comedy in favour of Bond-style megabuck explosions and gadgetry.

Stallone and Russell play well off each other, and with Palance lurking in the background, this buddy-breakout never loses its way.

The plot is a recycled mess, the dialog is awful, and the character motivation is nil, but thanks to Konchalovsky (and a strong performance by Russell), Tango and Cash is not only bearable, it's likable. Responsible for some of the finest films of the 80s, the Soviet-born director brings an insane, kinetic energy to the film that makes for effective action sequences and potent satire. A very smart "dumb" movie.

Tango and Cash is loaded with sweating, straining, smashing and grunting, with bulging-bicep shots and sadistic special effects. Watery electrocution sequences are a particular favorite, since these mean wet clothes, shooting sparks, writhing bodies and other current staples of high style. Images like these are so all-important in Tango and Cash that the idea of storytelling has virtually been annihilated.

The ostensible humor here is of the macho one-liner variety, and much of it falls flat. There is just too much Ratso and Cowboy for us to believe in Butch and Sundance.

As written by Randy Feldman and produced by the Batman team of Jon Peters and Peter Guber, Tango & Cash clearly wasn't meant to be interesting. It was meant to be Lethal Weapon-that is, a high-tech, ultra- violent, brain-dead buddy cop movie. In Konchalovsky's hands, however, Tango & Cash is more than interesting. It is, in fact, really weird.

Tango & Cash is a mindless buddy cop pic, loaded with nonstop action that's played mostly for laughs and delivers too few of them. Inane and formulaic, the film relies heavily on whatever chemistry it can generate between Sylvester Stallone and Kurt Russell, who repeatedly trade wisecracks while facing life-or-death situations.

The jokes seem lame and the rivalry fraudulent, as the two boys play with their big guns.

Russell is an inoffensive Mel Gibson clone here. But Stallone is an unlovable lummox, preposterous because he takes himself so seriously. Even when he attempts to laugh at himself, his quips fall like clods on coffins. His bravery is braggadocio. Let's hope this will be the last of Tango.

However gaudy its credits, it is one more--and one of the worst written--in an endless line of clenched-up, crashed-out, buddy-buddy L.A. cop star vehicles. A waste of talent and energy on all levels.