Expendables 3
Patrick Hughes
Unfamiliar faces wash up and the old ones sag down as this
consistently bizarre franchise mumbles its way into a third instalment. The
dogs have grown old and offer the proverbial sum of new tricks.
We open on Sly and his buddies descending on some muscular
vehicle in order to bust out an old pal (Wesley Snipes). After some brief
institutionalized gags our heroes set off for Dangerous Eastern Location A. Soon
enough though, things go to shit when an old brethren shows up, seemingly back
from the dead (played by Mel Gibson, also back from the dead), to leave the
team in shreds. Sly decides it’s time to inject some new blood into the gang
and so sets off with Kelsey Grammer to round ‘em up. We’re all looking good to
go but when these brand new ‘spendables end up captured and alone, Stallone
must recall the old guard and head to Dangerous Eastern Location B (seriously, Azmanistan?)
for a final showdown.
No surprise to see the old misogyny and racism back all guns
blazing so let’s stick to what’s new: Antonio Banderas joins Jet Li in rolling
racial stereotyping of their respective nations back a few decades; Harrison Ford
shows up to grunt lines like “clear the ruff!”, “You’re goin to Ass-Man-Istan”
and “Drummer’s in the house”; and UFC champ and Olympic gold medallist Ronda
Rousey takes the token female roll, largely, it seems, for one oddly erotic
slaughter with Antonio Banderas, 26 years her senior.
Of course, the enjoyment of these terrible things is not in
the level of hamminess but in how much those involved are aware of said hamminess.
At one point Mel Gibson’s evil dude ponders a piece of contemporary art. He wonders
whether the painter knew that the product of his mere paints and brushes would
come to cost so much. He then calls it shit and forks out 3M to the dealer. Are
the film-makers remarking on the cynicism of the art market or, moreover, of
Hollywood itself?
They might be... but we doubt it.
22 Jump Street
Phil Lord & Chris Miller
The Hollywood conveyor belt has become strangely self aware
in recent months. Kermit and co. let us know that Muppets Most Wanted would
be inferior to its predecessor right from the off. In a quite brilliant move, the
LEGO movie owned up to its inherent
commercialism and became the most warmly received film of the year. Phil Lord
and Chris Miller directed that particular smash and here they bring a similar
concoction of self referential gags to 22
Jump Street, a sequel to their own wonderfully anarchic reboot from 2012.
Jenko and Schmidt (Tatum and Hill) are back again to do, as
they keep reminding us, the exact same thing as before. Our heroes jump from
high school to college for more drug busting/taking shenanigans where they once
again find themselves occupying different steps on the social ladder as they attempt
to balance some new on-campus pastimes with the undercover job at hand. Distractions
abound; relationships fray; a ridiculously pretty girl finds Jonah Hill
attractive. We all know the drill.
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These somewhat unlikely best-pals remain a dynamic comedy pair
on screen and the laughs, while not quite of the same standard, still come
thick and fast. At times it’s, perhaps, a little too smart for its own good but
maestros Lord and Miller just about manage to pull it off. It’s a film which says “look, none of us particularly
want to be here, so let’s just have some fun and we’ll all get through it”;
which is, as sequels tend to go, probably enough.
