When The Marksman opens, hardened rancher Jim Hanson (Liam Neeson) is les misérables. Payments on his Arizona border ranch are past due, the bank plans to foreclose, and his wife has been taken . . . by cancer. He spends his days reporting Mexican migrants to US Customs and Border Patrol, until Rosa (Theresa Luiz) and her son Miguel (Jacob Perez) cross his land fleeing international men in black from the cartel. After Rosa is killed, making Hanson promise to bring Miguel to their family in Chicago so that he does not get taken 2, the Mexican mob put together their A-team to chase the pair across the country. It is a veritable clash of the titans, pitting the hardened Eastwood-like Hanson, child in tow, against the ruthless Mauricio (Juan Pablo Raba). Several of the plot points come under suspicion, including his lack of a cell phone, forcing him to get an atlas, a lazy way to write modern chase films. But no one watches a Liam Neeson movie called The Marksman for believable narrative—they watch for the shootouts and chases of which there are sadly not enough. With Mauricio hot on his tail, tracing his credit cards and killing innocent bystanders, most of the threats facing Hanson himself are just a phantom menace. The storyline moves like a 68-year-old action star, slow and deliberate, as does Hanson’s transition from detached xenophobe to redeemed Republican, all through helping an immigrant child. But at least he quits drinking all those Rob Roys once he decides to get his act together.