Similar to most of writer-director David Ayer’s other films, we walk away without giving the movie another thought. But sometimes we’re in the mood for dumb, gratuitous mayhem, the kind that require no personal engagement beyond keeping track of where the bullets hit. As such, The Tax Collector might hit the spot. But I still can’t help but be dumbfounded by Mr. LaBeouf’s misguided approach to method acting. A chest tattoo? For this movie? Why, Shia, why?
