Kick-Ass 2 (2013)

I was a big fan of Matthew Vaughn’s film Kick-Ass, even going so far as to believe (even if I didn’t admit it in my own review) that it improved on the Millar/Romita, Jr. comic book in many ways.  Jeff Wadlow’s Kick-Ass 2, however, misses the bar set by both its filmic and comic predecessors, never failing outright but ending up as a disappointing break from real life.

After kickstarting the real-world superhero trend, Dave “Kick-Ass” Lizewski (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) joins a team of superheroes – Justice Forever – while trying to convince his fellow hero Hit-Girl (Chloe Moretz) to suit up once more to help protect their city.  Hit-Girl is no more, though; instead, Mindy Macready is trying to make a normal life for herself as a high school freshman.  Meanwhile, Chris D’Amico (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), the supervillain formerly known as Red Mist, rebrands himself in a quest to avenge his father and kill Kick-Ass.

Sometime before arriving in theaters, Kick-Ass 2 dropped its subtitle “Balls to the Wall,” and after viewing the film itself it isn’t hard to see why.  That subtitle promises a relentless go-for-broke mentality which strives to top the already-exuberant first film, but what you actually get with Kick-Ass 2 is a tennis match of tonal inconsistencies, volleying between grim-n-gritty and Frat Pack humor, between dark comedy and unironic maudlin melodrama.  Any one of these might have made for a decent film, but the movie’s confusion about its own tone leads to a film that distances more than diverts its audience.  Matthew Vaughn managed to pull off the tonal shifts in Kick-Ass, but it seems Wadlow isn’t as deft a filmmaker.

A quick word about the source material:  Kick-Ass 2, by Mark Millar and John Romita, Jr., is stomach-churning, revoltingly violent, and that’s entirely the point.  Millar’s work on Kick-Ass 2 is uncompromising in a way that makes most readers uncomfortable (his unsettling comments equating rape with decapitation notwithstanding), but again it’s not purposeless.  By softening many of the more brutal beats from the comic book, the film ends up feeling like it’s continually undercutting itself.  Case in point:  Chris D’Amico, reduced from a genuinely evil monster to a lame attempt at comic relief whose villainous pursuits are impossible to take seriously because of his nasal whines and myriad impotencies. It’s a shame; Mintz-Plasse pulls off a few great moments of real darkness, but it’s like the editors spliced in a whole other feature alongside the one where McLovin plays the villain.

Moretz still steals the show as the foul-mouthed juvenile vigilante Hit-Girl, her purple wig and one-liners bespeaking her inbred passion for the superhero game, but there’s something just a little bit off about her performance.  Maybe it’s that she’s noticeably aged from the pint-sized terror of the first film, maybe it’s the film’s clumsy attempt to shoehorn her into a Mean Girls subplot (which works better in the comic book without resorting to icky hormones and projectile vomiting), or maybe it’s just that her heart doesn’t seem as into the project as it did; ditto for Johnson-Taylor, who’s almost the very definition of phoning it in, even when his character is supposed to be devastated.

Indeed, the only actor in the film who doesn’t seem bored or confused is Jim Carrey, in a surprisingly fun turn as Colonel Stars and Stripes, Justice Forever’s ostensible chairman.  I didn’t recognize Carrey in the early trailers, and that level of immersion in the character persists in his small role here.  You’ll want more of the Colonel from the film, in part because he’s the only consistent character in the film and in part because he lives up to the film’s attempt at a motto:  “Try to have fun; otherwise, what’s the point?” 

But the biggest problem with the film isn’t the violence that led Carrey to disavow the film in public (though some of the CGI effects need disowning).  In the final analysis, Kick-Ass 2 just doesn’t work because it doesn’t allow itself to go for broke.  Instead, it holds back and undercuts itself at every turn until all that’s left standing is an unengaging experience that just doesn’t kick as much ass as it needs to.  Never thought I’d say this, but this film really needs Nicolas Cage (a shining light in the first, conspicuously absent here).

Kick-Ass 2 is rated R for “strong violence, pervasive language, crude and sexual content, and brief nudity.”  This film is as violent as the first one, blood sprays and amputations abounding.  There are plenty of F-, C-, and other bombs dropped by the characters (including one in his own name), two prostitutes are seen topless for a few seconds, and other characters talk about sexual acts in vulgar and unflinching detail.  Please don’t do what the people sitting a few rows behind me did: leave your three-year-old at home.

Year One (2009)

How the mighty have fallen. I watched Year One out of fidelity to Michael Cera and writer/director Harold Ramis, and I'm really sorry that I did.

In a riff of sorts on Mel Brooks's History of the World, Part I, Year One follows two tribal villagers - Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Cera) - on a walking tour of the Old Testament after they eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, an action that results in their exile from the village. After meeting Cain and Abel (David Cross and Paul Rudd) and a brush with circumcision-happy Abraham and his son Isaac (Hank Azaria and Christopher "McLovin" Mintz-Plasse), the two wind up in Sodom & Gomorrah, trying to save the two caveladies they're sweet on.

Among the more distracting and ultimately distasteful aspects of the film is that it plays fast and loose with historical and textual accuracy. The film has us believe that cavemen, Israelites, Egyptians, and Romans existed at the same time, though any student in a 100-level history survey knows better. More problematic is the film's overreliance on established Old Testament narratives, which it disregards in favor of a vignette-style approach in which our cavepeople happen upon notable scenes. Yet Year One suggests that the murder of Abel (Genesis 4), the sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22), and the impending destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah (Genesis 19) all occurred within a few weeks of each other - an implication that diverts one's attention from the action on screen. The worst offense on this count is that Sodom & Gomorrah are saved at the end of the film, which is disappointing considering a special effects piece involving Michael Bay-style explosions might have redeemed at least a fraction of the movie for me.

Not that there's much action to watch. Black and Cera move from scene to scene without doing much; they make a few crude sexual jokes before some heavyhanded expositional dialogue signals a coming change of scenery. Black is perfectly cast as a caveman - just not this caveman; as a supposed "chosen one," Zed is responsible for enlightening civilization and ushering in a new era for mankind. This from a guy who in the next breath drops the ball on a fart joke? I've never understood Hollywood's love affair with Black (save for what I thought was a deent supporting role in Tropic Thunder), and Year One solidifies that. Similarly, Cera's underused here, though I doubt he would have done much more with Oh if he weren't; Cera plays the same socially awkward mumbler he always does, and while he's decent at this character type, his delivery trumps the poor dialogue he receives.

That's the biggest problem with Year One - it's a Harold Ramis film. The man who brought us Animal House, Ghostbusters, and Groundhog Day is responsible for this stinker. Knowing that Ramis is capable of so much more than this - cognizant of the potential that's being squandered in this movie - is almost as painful as sitting through the whole movie. As comedy scripts go, this is one of the unfunniest I've ever seen; the acting is weak, the jokes are humorless (even and especially when the film descends to the level of excrement jokes), and the ending fizzles out. Indeed, the only joy one can derive from this experience is celebrity spotting; for reasons I've yet to comprehend, Year One is populated with A-list stars slumming for a paycheck (either that or they simply want to say they were in a Harold Ramis movie). I felt most sorry for Oliver Platt, who's trapped in gaudy robes and one-note jokes about homosexuality; similar pathos goes out to Olivia Wilde, whose nascent career now has a dark smear on it.

Year One is also the name of one of my favorite Batman storylines. DC Comics followed up the popular storyline with Year Two and Year Three, though Harold Ramis would do better to move on and pretend that Year One never happened.
Year One is rated PG-13 "for crude and sexual content throughout, brief strong language and comic violence." The characters talk about sex and "laying with" in almost every scene, sometimes quite crudely; F-bombs crop up on occcasion, and there are a few goofy sword/fistfights that are as enjoyable as they are gory, which is to say not at all.