Gunpowder Milkshake

The 2021 cinematic landscape was a bit like a fever dream, a hazy period where big-budget spectacles were frequently "dumped" onto streaming platforms because the world was still figuring out how to sit in a room with strangers again. Among those neon-soaked casualties was Gunpowder Milkshake, a film that feels like it was engineered in a lab to be the ultimate "Friday night on the couch" experience. It’s hyper-stylized, fiercely colorful, and arrived with almost zero theatrical footprint, making it a strange, shiny artifact of the early 2020s streaming wars.

I watched this on a Tuesday night while eating a bowl of slightly burnt popcorn, and my left foot had fallen asleep about twenty minutes in, providing a weirdly pins-and-needles physical accompaniment to the high-energy fight choreography. It’s that kind of movie—you don't need a pristine IMAX screen to get the vibe; you just need a willingness to let logic take a backseat to aesthetics.

The John Wick-ification of Everything

There is no escaping the long shadow of John Wick here. Since 2014, action cinema has been obsessed with "Gun-Fu" and secret societies of assassins who use gold coins or specialized hotels. Gunpowder Milkshake takes that blueprint and dips it in a vat of strawberry syrup and blue raspberry Gatorade. We follow Sam, played by Karen Gillan with a stoic, weary energy that suggests she’s been carrying the weight of the "Deadly Assassin" trope for a century.

When a job goes sideways and an 8-year-old girl named Emily (Chloe Coleman) gets caught in the crossfire, Sam has to go rogue. This puts her in the crosshairs of "The Firm," a shadowy, all-male syndicate that operates out of a diner that looks like it was designed by a mid-century modern enthusiast on acid. The film doesn't just lean into its style; it tackles it to the ground. From the bowling alley showdown to the "Library" where the weapons are hidden inside hollowed-out classics, the world-building is pure comic book logic. I appreciated that it didn't try to be "gritty." We have enough grit. Give me Michelle Yeoh swinging a chain with a weighted book at the end of it any day.

A Masterclass in Slapstick Violence

The highlight of the film, and the moment where I think director Navot Papushado really finds his voice, is a sequence in a hospital. Sam has been injected with a serum that renders her arms completely useless—they’re just dangling like overcooked noodles. To defend herself against three goons, she has to duct-tape a knife to one hand and a gun to the other, using her teeth and her entire body to swing her limp limbs like lethal flails.

It is essentially a Three Stooges sketch if Moe was trying to disembowel Larry, and it’s genuinely creative action. In an era where "franchise fatigue" often results in blurry, CGI-heavy brawls where you can’t tell who is punching whom, this sequence is clear, funny, and physically grounded. Karen Gillan’s physical comedy here is top-tier. She’s tall and lanky, and the film uses her frame to great effect, making her look both dangerous and ridiculous at the same time.

The supporting cast is an absolute embarrassment of riches. You have Lena Headey as Sam’s estranged mother, bringing that sharp, maternal steel she perfected in Game of Thrones. Then there are "The Librarians": Angela Bassett, Carla Gugino, and Michelle Yeoh. Seeing these women on screen together feels like a gift from the casting gods, even if the script doesn't always give them enough room to breathe between the shootouts. Angela Bassett with a pair of oversized hammers is an image that should be projected onto the side of buildings.

The Cost of Cool

For all its visual flair and "Girl Power" energy, Gunpowder Milkshake does occasionally stumble over its own shoelaces. It’s a film that is deeply concerned with being cool. Sometimes, that coolness feels a bit hollow, like a music video that’s been stretched to nearly two hours. The dialogue can be a bit clunky, leaning heavily on the "assassin speak" that we’ve heard in a dozen other movies. It talks about "The Firm" and "The Rules" with a self-seriousness that occasionally clashes with the fact that the characters are wearing bowling jackets and drinking giant milkshakes.

Released primarily on Netflix in the US, the film suffered from the "out of sight, out of mind" nature of the algorithm. It’s a shame because the production design by David Scheunemann and the cinematography by Michael Seresin deserve a big screen. The colors pop with a vibrancy that you just don't see in modern blockbusters, which often favor a muddy, desaturated "realistic" look. This film is a neon-drenched middle finger to the color beige, and I respect it for that.

Ultimately, it’s a film about generational trauma and the way women have to build their own fortresses in a world run by "The Firm." It’s not a deep philosophical treatise, but it’s a blast to look at. It’s the kind of "forgotten" contemporary film that I think will find a second life as a cult favorite for people who want their action movies to look like a candy store exploded in a gun shop.

While it doesn't quite reinvent the wheel, Gunpowder Milkshake provides enough stylish carnage and charismatic performances to justify its runtime. It’s a slick, sugary shot of adrenaline that benefits from an incredible female ensemble who look like they’re having the time of their lives. If you can ignore the slightly derivative plot and just enjoy the sight of Michelle Yeoh doing library work with a chain-blade, you’re in for a good time. Just make sure your feet don't fall asleep while you're watching.