by Cain Noble-Davies
Worth: $15.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L. Jackson, Salma Hayek, Antonio Banderas, Morgan Freeman
Intro:
...unwieldy to the verge of self-parody, but there's something consistently endearing about how much it embraces its own goofiness.
The Hitman’s Bodyguard was an odd moment for the cinema of 2017. A B-movie with B-movie writing (the tone of which was hastily changed prior to filming, always a great start (!)) and B-movie aspirations… but with a capital-A-movie cast.
In hindsight, it might as well have been a sibling of 2018’s The Meg, supercharging a disposable story with a cast list designed to crane necks at whiplash speeds.
Indeed, the cast and the performances wound up being the only real reason to watch Hitman’s Bodyguard.
In the process of making this sequel, Australian director Patrick Hughes must’ve kept note of that reaction, because the on-screen charisma has been amplified the second go around.
Likely as a result of making an action-comedy from the ground-up, as opposed to retrofitting it into one, the humour here not only hits better, but is delivered with astounding efficacy by all involved. Ryan Reynolds continues to play against type as the Jesse Eisenberg-tier neurotic bodyguard, Sam Jackson coasts on his laidback attitude and a wealth of facial expressions, and Salma Hayek is so delightfully unhinged as to threaten to break the walls of reality. If she suddenly transmogrified back into Sausage Party’s Theresa Taco, that’d be a rare moment of lucidity for her here.
Actually, ‘unhinged’ might be the best way to describe this whole movie, as the sheer degree to which the nutty roams free is astonishing. Every single aspect of the narrative, from the kitschy Bond pastiche of the villain’s plot and personality (seeing Antonio Banderas back in Robert Rodriguez mode is highly satisfying) to the action scenes that are among the few that can stand alongside the ludicrous bombast of a Fast & Furious sequel, even the grasping at ‘family film’ cred through the same avenues that Deadpool 2 navigated, is injected with enough pure crazy as to guarantee an audience contact high.
As simple as the European-vacation-with-firearms plot, the almost two hour running time should feel a lot longer. Much like the first film, the plot is the least interesting aspect, the engagement riding on the backs of the performances and the action beats. Because the chemistry between each and every actor is tighter than a bomb bracelet, it’s more like a really fun road trip where the destination, and even the path, doesn’t even matter next to the joy of the ride itself.
Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard, much like its title, is unwieldy to the verge of self-parody, but there’s something consistently endearing about how much it embraces its own goofiness. It melds the liberating lack of fucks given of a B-movie with the blockbuster polish and acting pedigree of an A-movie, making for an exhilarating, if potentially exhausting, dosage of glee.
