Kick-Ass 2. (15.)
Directed by Jeff Wadlow.
Starring Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Chloe Grace Moretz. Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Jim Carrey, John Leguizamo and Morris Chestnut. 103 mins.
Jim Carrey’s refusal to publicize this very violent film in which he appears recalls the Not the Nine O’Clock News line about the actors in Caligula complaining that there had been no mention of pornographic sex scenes when they read the original cheque. I would condemn it as a risible stance, but in all honesty I agree with him. The original Kick Ass is one of my favourite films of recent years, but it is thoroughly reprehensible.
Extensive scientific research has shown that violent movies and games don’t affect viewer’s behaviour - a fact which anybody who’s ever really enjoyed one knows instinctively can’t possibly be true but don’t like to admit. The BBFC wave all manner of abominable behaviour through with a 15 as long as it can be shown to be “fantasy” violence. Kick-Ass seemed to make a point of prodding bluntly at these uncomfortable truths with its tale of a real people engaged in fantasy violence. Everything about its story of ordinary people trying to be superheroes, but especially Hit Girl, a foul mouthed 11 year old girl vigilante, meant that Kick-Ass had to be a one-off. Do it once and it gets by on it transgressive thrill, but to do it again is like making Clockwork Orange 2. Trying to pass it off as just another normal summer movie franchise is a betrayal.
Still, even if it should never have been made, it certainly shouldn’t have been made this badly. When it starts with a weak reworking of a memorable scene from the original you suspect that it is likely to be more lame-ass than kick ass, but this sequel is ugly, clumsy and brutish. Compared to the crafty and clever script of the original this feels like a big budget version of a fan’s YouTube homage clip, made by people whose sole desire is to invent scenes that are “cool,” “awesome” or “epic” as opposed to, you know, good.
You could argue that every movie he isn’t in suffers a little from a lack of Nicholas Cage. (Granted the opposite may also apply.) But no film feels quite as bereft of Nicholas Cage as this. Every time there is a shot of his Big Daddy outfit from the first film I felt a keen pang of lose. Instead we get fobbed off with Carrey, which might have been OK if they’d given him something worthwhile to do.
The sequel is an Avengers take off with Kick-Ass pulling on the costume again to join a super group of people inspired by his masked heroics. Occasionally you’ll pick out a sharp line or good idea that is getting lost in the general hubbub and hysteria. Steven Mackintosh and Monica Dolan (Alan Partridges’ love interest in Alpha Papa) play a couple who fight crime in T-shirts featuring the face of their missing son Tommy and an appeal for information on his whereabouts. It is a queasy bit of inspiration; offensive yet poignant.
I still got some pleasure out of Chloe Grace Moretz’s performance as Hit Girl, but most of the returning characters are shadows of their former selves. Aaron Taylor-Johnson is still sweetly engaging in the title role but he feels like a by-stander in his own film. The idea to make Christopher Mintz-Plasse’s spoilt gangster’s son become a super villain has plenty of traction but his scenes are among the worst in the film, though it isn’t clear if it is the performance or the writing that is fault.
Bad sequels to loved films are always hard to take but this one seems to be the inverse of the original. That film took superhero stories and left them stranded in an odd and challenging new context but made you appreciate why they had merit. Here, watching all these people in silly costumes flapping about just made me feel a fool for ever caring about such things.
Directed by Jeff Wadlow.
Starring Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Chloe Grace Moretz. Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Jim Carrey, John Leguizamo and Morris Chestnut. 103 mins.
Jim Carrey’s refusal to publicize this very violent film in which he appears recalls the Not the Nine O’Clock News line about the actors in Caligula complaining that there had been no mention of pornographic sex scenes when they read the original cheque. I would condemn it as a risible stance, but in all honesty I agree with him. The original Kick Ass is one of my favourite films of recent years, but it is thoroughly reprehensible.
Extensive scientific research has shown that violent movies and games don’t affect viewer’s behaviour - a fact which anybody who’s ever really enjoyed one knows instinctively can’t possibly be true but don’t like to admit. The BBFC wave all manner of abominable behaviour through with a 15 as long as it can be shown to be “fantasy” violence. Kick-Ass seemed to make a point of prodding bluntly at these uncomfortable truths with its tale of a real people engaged in fantasy violence. Everything about its story of ordinary people trying to be superheroes, but especially Hit Girl, a foul mouthed 11 year old girl vigilante, meant that Kick-Ass had to be a one-off. Do it once and it gets by on it transgressive thrill, but to do it again is like making Clockwork Orange 2. Trying to pass it off as just another normal summer movie franchise is a betrayal.
Still, even if it should never have been made, it certainly shouldn’t have been made this badly. When it starts with a weak reworking of a memorable scene from the original you suspect that it is likely to be more lame-ass than kick ass, but this sequel is ugly, clumsy and brutish. Compared to the crafty and clever script of the original this feels like a big budget version of a fan’s YouTube homage clip, made by people whose sole desire is to invent scenes that are “cool,” “awesome” or “epic” as opposed to, you know, good.
You could argue that every movie he isn’t in suffers a little from a lack of Nicholas Cage. (Granted the opposite may also apply.) But no film feels quite as bereft of Nicholas Cage as this. Every time there is a shot of his Big Daddy outfit from the first film I felt a keen pang of lose. Instead we get fobbed off with Carrey, which might have been OK if they’d given him something worthwhile to do.
The sequel is an Avengers take off with Kick-Ass pulling on the costume again to join a super group of people inspired by his masked heroics. Occasionally you’ll pick out a sharp line or good idea that is getting lost in the general hubbub and hysteria. Steven Mackintosh and Monica Dolan (Alan Partridges’ love interest in Alpha Papa) play a couple who fight crime in T-shirts featuring the face of their missing son Tommy and an appeal for information on his whereabouts. It is a queasy bit of inspiration; offensive yet poignant.
I still got some pleasure out of Chloe Grace Moretz’s performance as Hit Girl, but most of the returning characters are shadows of their former selves. Aaron Taylor-Johnson is still sweetly engaging in the title role but he feels like a by-stander in his own film. The idea to make Christopher Mintz-Plasse’s spoilt gangster’s son become a super villain has plenty of traction but his scenes are among the worst in the film, though it isn’t clear if it is the performance or the writing that is fault.
Bad sequels to loved films are always hard to take but this one seems to be the inverse of the original. That film took superhero stories and left them stranded in an odd and challenging new context but made you appreciate why they had merit. Here, watching all these people in silly costumes flapping about just made me feel a fool for ever caring about such things.
