Kick-Ass 2: Balls to the Wall
(2013)
I groaned inwardly when the Kick-Ass sequel was announced; a completely unnecessary follow-up
to an original that didn’t demand continuation. That Matthew Vaughn
wasn’t returning as director reconfirmed this response; he brought a sense of
fun and heart to a movie that could otherwise have been wholly misconceived
(like the way no one else seems to have been quite able to make a great X-Men movie lately; First Class had personality, whereas the other entries since X2 has been going through the motions).
Balls to the Wall, written and
directed by Jeff Wadlow, isn’t actually as terrible as I’d feared, but it’s
wholly redundant, roundly failing to justify revisiting these characters.
The first movie was crude, vulgar and revelled in the shock
value of having a young girl mouthing obscenities while inflicting
ultra-violence on unsuspecting bad guys. Now that girl is at school, attempting
to fit in, and this is the plot thread of Balls
to the Wall that kind of works; Mindy/Hit-Girl (Chloe Grace Moretz), having forsaken the superhero lifestyle, is thrown
into a sub-Heathers inferno of
teenage cruelty, while also discovering she’s attracted to boys. It isn’t
terribly original, but neither is Kick-Ass/Dave (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) joining
up with a gang of fellow super-heroes/vigilantes (why Dave needs to learn how
to fight all over again here – twice! – is anyone’s guess) while Chris/the
Motherfucker (Christopher Mintz-Plasse; only actors with three-word names take
the leads in this series) decides to reinvent himself as a super villain. The
result is replete with the kind of lazy comic book sequel referencing the Scream sequels supplied for horror
movies (but more successfully). The pervading air is of “how can we make a
sequel work?” rather than “We’ve got a great reason for continuing this story”.
Everything that was fresh now feels tired. What was shocking
now seems like cheap repetition. Just the name Motherfucker evidences the level
of wit on display. The dodgy superhero/villain names (Night Bitch, The Tumor
etc) were more amusing in Mystery Men
fifteen years ago, and Mystery Men
wasn’t really very good. Wadlow (working from Mark Millar’s source material,
which apparently revels in its capacity to shock the readser) finds himself
laying on even the half-decent gags too thick (“You’ve got to quit with the racist stereotypes, Chris”, John
Leguizamo’s Javier tells the Mother Fucker; “Archetypes” he responds). Occasionally there’s a flash of the first
movie’s successful contrasts between comic book and “real” world; the
Motherfucker’s insulted reaction when it is suggested he kills the dog
belonging to Captain Stars and Stripes (Jim Carrey). But Wadlow’s idea of a
theme is to repeat ad infinitum that there aren’t superheroes in the real
world, all the while informing the viewer with the choreography, fight moves,
set pieces and a generically stylised visual palette that this is a superhero world.
The violence of the first picture, where Kick-Ass takes a
beating or where Hit-Girl goes to work to the accompaniment of the Banana Splits theme, is delivered
dutifully but without motive, and so has an unpleasant edge. It can’t shock
because it could only shock the first time. So now these scenes feature because
they’re what the audience expects of a Kick-Ass
movie (this isn’t as bloody as the original, but I’m still not sure how it gets
away with a 15; God knows what the BBFC are thinking). Tellingly, the most
effective Hit-Girl scene here isn’t one where she kicks ass but instead induces
a trio of mean girls to vomit. There’s also the small factor that Hit-Girl’s
language has little impact delivered by a 15-year old; four years makes all the
difference. And when the best she can come up with as an insult is “Puke face” you start to wonder. The
coarse language between schoolgirls is more effective, but indicative of an
unpleasant undercurrent in respect of the depiction of women in the film, with
references to snatch-kicking, muff munching and a would-be rape that is played
for laughs on account of the assailant’s inadequacy (considerably toned down
from Millar’s original scenario, but no more acceptable as a result). For a
movie as schematic and manipulative as this one (Dave’s emotional journey
includes an especially under-cooked development that never sufficiently pays
off; we’re presumably expected to think the mere fact of its occurrence is weighty
enough), such material doesn’t translate as daring or edgy; it’s merely
evidencing how lucky the first effort was to have Vaughn.
Johnson, Moretz and Mintz-Plasse return to their characters
fairly effortlessly, but the latter is utterly typecast as the nerd du jour at
this point; I’m slightly surprised he’s gone on as long as he has (what, eight
years?) Jim Carrey, who famously disassociated himself from the movie, is solid
if unspectacular as Stars and Stripes; his physical transformation is
impressive, and he never drops the character to indulge in his usual schtick,
but the Captain isn’t a terribly interesting character. Barely anything is made
of his Born Again disposition, for example. Lindy Booth is memorable as Night
Bitch, and a smattering of British thesps appear in small roles; Benedict Wong,
Iain Glen, Steven Mackintosh, Monica Dolan.
Balls to
the Wall is very cheap looking. Tim Maurice-Jones cinematography is
unpersuasive, and there’s a pretty awful fight sequence atop a speeding van complete
with horribly obvious green screen work. In general, the tone is one of
straight-to-video cash-in whose stars should have known better. Even the score
sounds recycled, the really rather great four composer-led work on the original
now limited to Henry Jackman redoing the (admittedly great) main theme from the
first with Matthew Margeson.
I don’t think anyone really expected there to be a Kick-Ass sequel apart from the reliably
self -promoting Mark Millar. Kick-Ass
didn’t make enough ($96m worldwide) for it to be a forgone conclusion, so
someone obviously did a sum based on the home entertainment market. Since this
one cost about the same but made a third less, and wasn’t very well received I expect there’ll be even less
clamour for another. I’ll be happy to forget about it, while holding up the
first movie as a genuinely great little surprise. Maybe in 20 years, when
studios are dusting off old properties that have a lot of nostalgia value (as
they always are), a return of Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl might have some merit, but
for now they should just leave it alone. No matter how much Millar talks them
up.
**1/2
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