Who is this movie for?

This was the big question getting tossed around before the release of Disney’s reboot of "The Lone Ranger." After all, younger audiences likely have no interest in the old radio serial and TV character, much less even know who he is. And older audiences who do remember the old show likely have no interest in seeing a gritty modern reimagining of said character.

Well, now that I’ve actually seen "The Lone Ranger," I can confirm that I still have no bloody idea who is supposed to enjoy this movie. At its worst, it’s a complete tonal misfire, switching between childish antics and brutality – often based on real life – with all of the grace of a doctor performing open heart surgery with a chainsaw. At its best, it’s just another long-winded summer blockbuster, with 150 minutes of loud chaos and goofy characters adding up to a whole lot of nothing.

Armie Hammer of "The Social Network" stars as the titular character (I know; hard to believe considering he’s pushed as far off the poster as possible, as though the movie is annoyed it even had to include him). Before he becomes the Lone Ranger, however, he’s just John Reid, a law-abiding, bumbling John Locke fan. His train ride back home becomes uncomfortably bumpy when its important cargo – the captured outlaw Butch Cavendish (William Fichtner) – breaks out with the help of his posse and crashes the train.

Reid survives, as well as Tonto (Johnny Depp, testing the audience's ability to tolerate his quirky side character shtick), a Native American outcast looking for Cavendish, who he believes is a demon called wendigo. Reid doesn’t believe him – and doesn’t like him because he’s kind of racist … our hero, folks – but after a trip into the desert with a band of Rangers ends with Butch killing everyone, including his Ranger brother (James Badge Dale), he reluctantly teams up with Tonto to stop the bandit.

There’s also a forgettable romantic interest (Ruth Wilson) who is awkwardly Reid’s dead brother’s wife, as well as a railroad baron (Tom Wilkinson) who is probably a villain because that’s just what railroad barons do in westerns.

Did I say Butch simply kills Reid’s brother? I’m sorry, I meant to say that he eats Reid’s brother’s heart. Disney magic at its finest, no? It’s okay because shortly after the cannibalism comes more of Depp’s tedious mugging and a joke involving Hammer’s head getting dragged through horse poop.

It’s exactly this mix of violence and cartoonish goofing that makes "The Lone Ranger" a very uncomfortable movie-going experience. Director Gore Verbinski found the right fit of adventure, dark material and his own bizarro sense of comedy with the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" film and his animated western "Rango," but he can’t find a way to make this script’s bizarre tonal shifts work at all.

It just ends up feeling ugly and grim, and considering how "The Lone Ranger" plods along, the sensation is going to last a long time.

This is especially the case when the script moves toward Indian territory and becomes about the plight of the Native American people. There may be a way to discuss the mistreatment of the Native Americans in a summer blockbuster, but this sure isn’t it. Mixing massacres of Indians – led in one scene by a general (Barry Pepper) who is Custer all but in name – with awkward comic relief from Reid’s magical horse is borderline distasteful.

Speaking of borderline distasteful: Depp’s portrayal of Tonto. The actor has tried his best to ease moviegoers’ concerns about his performance by stating that he has Native American ancestry and that this is his personal attempt to right the wrongs of the past.

Unfortunately, intentions and execution didn’t quite line up, and we’re left with a wacky Native American sidekick character who mystically talks to animals, continually feeds the dead bird on his head, makes big cartoonishly animated facial expressions and speaks in stereotypical pidgin-talk. He’s also introduced in a bizarre frame story involving an old, rambling Tonto (Depp in heavy prosthetics) trapped in a museum exhibit labeled "noble savage," telling his story to a young boy dressed as the Lone Ranger and behaving foolishly.

At worst, it’s arguably redface and racist. At best, it’s yet another tired retread of his Captain Jack Sparrow turn that getting diminishing returns. 

He’s especially an awkward fit in a movie that continually references and shows the mistreatment of Native Americans. The script wants the audience to feel bad for Tonto, his sad backstory and others like him who were mistreated by the white man while at the same time milking laughs out of his otherness.

It’s just another example of how "The Lone Ranger" is continually at odds with itself for 150 minutes.

I feel bad for Armie Hammer, who gets pushed to the side despite being the main character. His earnest hamming is a bit of fun, but he can’t help the fact that he’s written as a limp hero.

I feel bad for Helena Bonham Carter, who I barely remembered gets a scene or two as a whorehouse owner with a ivory shotgun leg.

I feel bad for Verbinski, who is an above-average action movie director. He has a rich visual style, full of inspiration and inspirations ("The Red Balloon" and "Once Upon a Time in the West" make appearances), and he manages chaos really well. The opening and closing action scenes, both involving some hectic locomotive lunacy, provide moments of fleeting excitement.

Most of all, I feel bad for people who go to see "The Lone Ranger," especially if they bring children along. It’s a grim, violent adventure that sits poorly in the stomach while you're watching. At least it has the respect to be easily forgotten, just another wannabe blockbuster to throw on the heap.