Movies with "crazy" titles usually go one of two ways. They’re either low-budget trash that knows it’s trash, or they’re Sharknado. But every once in a while, something like The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot comes along and completely ruins your expectations. It’s not a B-movie. Honestly, it’s a character study. It’s a slow-burn meditation on regret, aging, and the heavy cost of doing things that "must be done."
If you went into this 2018 film expecting a high-octane action flick where Sam Elliott dual-wields machine guns against a cryptid, you were probably confused. Maybe even annoyed. That’s because writer-director Robert D. Krzykowski didn't make an action movie. He made a folk tale.
What Actually Happens in The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot
The plot follows Calvin Barr. We see him in two timelines. The younger Calvin, played by Aidan Turner, is a soldier during WWII. He goes on a deep-cover mission to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He succeeds. But here’s the twist: it doesn't matter. The government covers it up, replaces Hitler with a body double, and the war drags on anyway. Calvin’s greatest sacrifice—leaving the woman he loved and committing a soul-crushing act of violence—was effectively erased by bureaucracy.
Decades later, Sam Elliott plays the older Calvin. He’s living a quiet, lonely life in New England. He’s haunted. Then, the FBI and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police show up at his door. There’s a plague-carrying Bigfoot in the Canadian wilderness. They need a man who is uniquely capable of hunting a monster without leaving a trace.
That’s the "hook."
But the movie spends more time on Calvin’s relationship with his brother (played by the incredible Larry Miller) than it does on the actual hunt. It’s a film about the weight of a secret. When Calvin finally tracks down the Bigfoot, it isn't a triumphant moment of heroism. It’s a messy, tragic encounter with a dying creature.
Why Sam Elliott Was the Only Choice
You can't talk about The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot without talking about Sam Elliott’s face. It’s a landscape. Every wrinkle looks like it earned its place through decades of disappointment. Elliott has this incredible ability to convey deep sadness while barely moving a muscle.
In the film, Calvin Barr isn't a "badass" in the traditional sense. He’s a man who has been used by his country and then discarded. He’s tired. There’s a scene where he’s at a bar and gets confronted by some local thugs. In any other movie, this is where the hero does a flashy fight sequence. Here? Calvin handles it with a weary, clinical efficiency that feels more like a chore than a victory.
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Breaking Down the "Hitler" Segment
The WWII flashbacks are filmed with a soft, almost nostalgic glow that contrasts sharply with the gritty reality of the mission. Calvin is a man of principle. He hates the Nazis, obviously, but he doesn't enjoy the kill.
The assassination itself is handled with a weirdly grounded sense of tension. There are no explosions. There’s just a man, a disguise, and a long-range shot. By making the assassination "successful" but historically irrelevant, the film makes a massive point about the futility of individual violence in the face of systemic evil.
It’s a bold move. Most movies would make the killing of Hitler the climax. Here, it’s just the prologue to a lifetime of "What was it all for?"
The Symbolism of the Bigfoot
Then we get to the creature. Let’s be real: the Bigfoot suit looks like a suit. But in the context of the film’s dreamlike logic, it works. The Bigfoot isn't an alien or a magical beast. It’s a carrier of a virus. It’s a biological threat that the world isn't ready for.
Think about the parallel.
- Hitler represented a human plague of hatred.
- The Bigfoot represents a literal plague of nature.
Calvin is the only one who can handle both because he is a man who understands that some jobs are so ugly they shouldn't even be recorded in history books. He is the ultimate "unsung hero," which is a trope the film deconstructs entirely. It asks if being an unsung hero is actually a noble thing, or if it just leads to a hollow life.
Why the Title Both Helps and Hurts the Movie
Marketing is a weird beast. If you name a movie The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot, you are making a promise to the audience. You’re promising something "cult." You’re promising something maybe a little bit silly.
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A lot of people felt cheated. They wanted John Wick meets Finding Bigfoot. Instead, they got a philosophical drama that feels more like a Cormac McCarthy novel than a comic book.
However, the title is also the only reason many of us clicked on it in the first place. It’s a "Trojan Horse" movie. It uses a ridiculous premise to smuggle in a very serious conversation about the American myth of the lone warrior. If it had been called "The Regrets of Calvin Barr," nobody would have watched it.
Real Expert Insights: The Craft Behind the Weirdness
Film critics like Mark Kermode have noted that the movie’s strength lies in its sincerity. It never winks at the camera. It never says, "Hey, isn't this title wacky?" It treats the hunt for the Bigfoot with the same gravitas as a hunt for a war criminal.
The cinematography by Alex Vendler is surprisingly beautiful. It uses 35mm film, which gives it a grain and a texture that digital can't quite replicate. This helps the movie feel like an artifact—something found in a dusty attic.
Production designer Marc Fisichella also deserves credit. Calvin’s house feels lived-in. It feels like the home of a man who hasn't changed anything since 1950 because he’s still living in his memories.
Common Misconceptions About the Film
People often ask: Is it a comedy? No. It’s not. There are maybe two moments that qualify as "funny," and they’re mostly just dry observations.
Is it a horror movie? Not really. The Bigfoot scenes have some tension, but it’s not meant to make you jump. It’s meant to make you feel uncomfortable.
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Is the Bigfoot real in the movie’s universe? Yes. It’s not a hallucination. But its "reality" is less important than what it represents to Calvin: a final chance to do something right, even if he dies doing it.
Actionable Takeaways for Movie Lovers
If you haven't seen it yet, or if you saw it and hated it, here is how to actually approach The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot:
- Adjust your expectations. Watch it as a drama. If you’re looking for a monster movie, go watch The Ritual or Predator.
- Watch Sam Elliott’s eyes. Seriously. The performance is all in the micro-expressions.
- Pay attention to the sound design. The silence in Calvin’s world is a character in itself.
- Look for the parallels. Notice how the way he tracks the Bigfoot mirrors the way he tracked Hitler. It’s about the repetition of history.
The film is a reminder that cinema doesn't have to fit into a neat box. You can have a "stupid" premise and turn it into something that actually makes people think about their own legacies.
The Ending Explained (Without Too Many Spoilers)
The final act of the movie is where it really settles into its themes. Calvin doesn't come home to a parade. He doesn't get a medal. He goes back to his life, and he’s still the same man. But there’s a small, subtle shift in his relationship with his brother.
The movie suggests that while "killing Hitler" or "killing the Bigfoot" are the things that make for a great title, it’s the quiet moments—the conversations over a beer, the regret over a lost love—that actually make a life.
It’s a weird, beautiful, stubborn movie. Just like Sam Elliott himself.
To get the most out of this film, watch it on a quiet night when you’re in a reflective mood. Don't watch it with a rowdy group of friends looking for a laugh. It’s a movie that demands you sit still and feel the weight of time passing. It’s a story about the monsters we find in the woods, and the ones we carry around inside us for seventy years.
If you're looking for your next watch, skip the latest blockbuster and find this on a streaming service. It’s one of those rare films that stays in your head long after the credits roll, mostly because it refuses to be the movie you thought it was going to be. Check out the soundtrack as well; Joe Kraemer’s score is incredibly evocative and carries the emotional weight when the dialogue is sparse.
Finally, pay attention to the flashback sequences involving the character of Maxine. Caitlin FitzGerald brings a necessary warmth to the story that makes Calvin's later isolation feel much more tragic. Without that emotional anchor, the Bigfoot hunt wouldn't have the stakes it needs to work as a metaphor for his final act of service.