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Much is written lately about the image of Chris Pratt.

It doesn't go down well.

We saw this a couple of years ago, when screenwriter Amy Berg

proposed a fun and innocent (not for Pratt) Twitter poll

.

Berg asked which of the four Chrises (Hemsworth, Pine, Evans, and Pratt) from top-grossing Hollywood we would take out of the group.

“One has to go”

was the text that accompanied the four photos.

The consultation, candid and humorous, got out of hand.

The tweet went viral and responses, quoting Pratt, some very rude and rude, flooded the web.

That ultra-conservative and ultra-Catholic aura that he questions from time to time did not help the actor.

But he questions her little, because

his media exposure is highly controlled

.

Chris Pratt is an unlikely and awkward star.

If not, what would a clearly underpromoted series on Prime Video have now?

Two things have emerged above all from

The Final List

: the gigantic salary that Pratt has received for it (one and a half million dollars per episode) and its terrible critical reception.

The final list

is bad, yes, but above all it is old.

That Antoine Fuqua directs his first episode already gives us clues in that regard: Fuqua is the great vindicator of the

cinema of cakes, shots and inconsequential and well, ahem, executed blows

.

That, in the television version, is exactly

The Final List

.

Based on the book by Jack Carr, the series is a tale of revenge, with a military man determined to

uncover and, ahem, execute

, those who led his squad to doom.

That military man is obviously Chris Pratt, who is trying to get rid of the image that made him a superstar: that of the funny chubby who is no longer chubby but is still funny.

Like the Bruce Willis of the 90s, but with the charisma of a child's doll

.

Like Jason Statham, but with fake muscles.

Pratt rubs shoulders in

The Final List

with splendid, wasted actresses like Riley Keough and Constance Wu, both always under clear orders not to outshine the lead.

There is also the efficient Jeanne Tripplehorn out there, in a character that seems like a transplant directly from any other similar series, and a couple of names that could be Chris Pratt if Chris Pratt had not chosen the right projects and the right gym at the time.

Seeing Jai Courtney and Taylor Kitsch in

The Final List

reminds us

how capricious Hollywood is in giving opportunities and taking careers away

.

Would Kitsch take Pratt's current place if

John Carter

hadn't been the flop he was?

Would Courtney be an action star if

Would Divergent

have come before

The Hunger Games

?

We will never know.

What we do know is the fortune that has been pocketed for starring in

The Final List

who overtook them on the right.

«

That funny fat man

»Now half the planet continues to dislike him, but the other medium pays admission for his films.

Will they pay the subscription to Prime Video to see his mediocre series?

We will never know.

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