Aaron Brand (Neil Breen) is the best there is at what he does. Really, he is. A mercenary killing machine who work counterterrorism assignments for both American and foreign governments, his life is ruined when his fiancee Megan (Laura Hale) is murdered while they’re in the pool together. That’s when he decides to become a terrorist himself, all while helping the world defeat other terrorists, he’s turning a car into a killing base complete with numerous hacking laptops and an invisibility device, all with the plan of unleashing anthrax in the middle of Las Vegas.

Also, all he eats is tuna. And yes, just like every other Neil Breen character, he met the love of his life at the age of seven.

But unlike so many other snarky reviews of his movie, I’m not here to make fun of the work of Breen. No, quite the opposite. I’m absolutely fascinated — and comforted — by his movies. The tics of character, the repetition of story beats, the fact that his character is absolutely impossibly skilled in a way that no human being could ever be. He’s an infallible man — or sometimes god or even God — facing off with an imperfect world so often, a world that has let him down in the most horrific ways possible and must reconcile his infinite power and need to perhaps destroy those that have wronged him with something missing, often love or connection.

This is the conundrum and duality at the heart of every Neil Breen hero. This is someone who makes millions of dollars a year for world governments keeping order yet keeps none of it, barely scraping by in the desert while he donates that money to various children support charities all over the world such as “orphanages, hospitals and schools and supporting evacuees from national disasters around the globe like hurricanes, like Katrina.” With bio-electric implants, he does things like shut down the Vegas strip — Sam’s Town probably stayed open — or kills white collar criminals, leaving the desert filled with their bodies, all while the blood money goes to the kids. Kind of like how we had to begrudgingly admire Jerry Lewis for doing his telethon despite by the end of the weekend he was snapping at his band and verbally abusing the crew on national television.

Now, you may ask, why don’t the governments of the world kill off Aaron if he’s becoming so powerful? Well, he planted bioterror bombs in seven critical cities and if anyone tries, the whole world pays. He’s the kind of good at his job that never has to go look for a new one. But you know, who else would be qualified for whatever exactly his skillset is. And if anyone tries to get to him in the desert, there’s an invisible shield that kills anyone but Aaron.

Despite being the best ever, Aaron screws up a hit and the people he was supposed to kill are so afraid that he’s after him, they end up killing themselves. Problem solved. He also meets an old man in the desert who dies in his arms. And through it all, he just wants to believe that something extraordinary is possible.

Or he’ll kill the world.

I refuse to ironically like these movies or find them to be some kind of pose. Because there’s something in these, some vision and message. Certainly they are in no way like any other movie you’ve ever seen and instead of making them fit into that box, why not open yourself up and go beyond, you know?