Mark Reviews Movies: HITMAN'S WIFE'S BODYGUARD

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 15, 2021

A sequel to the yelling-and-violence-filled The Hitman's Bodyguard wasn't necessary. There's no "but" to go along with that statement. The original movie made enough money to be profitable, so here's Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard. It's basically more of the same, except that the talents of more people get to be wasted by a lot of repetitive gags and action.

Those who saw the first movie know the drill, and there's probably a chance one can catch the gist of both movies simply on account of the titles. In the first one, Michael Bryce (Ryan Reynolds), an effective but disgraced bodyguard, had to protect Darius Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson), the hitman who caused Bryce's disgrace by assassinating the man under the bodyguard's protection.

The plot had to do with getting Kincaid to the International Criminal Court, so that he could testify against a mass-murdering despot, and at a certain point, we meet Kincaid's foul-mouthed wife Sonia (Salma Hayek), who briefly added a third piece to the movie's central gag—that the bodyguard and the hitman can't stop yelling at each—by yelling at both men with equal gusto.

The biggest change, then, is the more consistent presence of Hayek, who's clearly enjoying the chance to swear interchangeably between English and Spanish, and one assumes an actor would have to appreciate that opportunity in order to sign up for material like this. It's pretty much the extent of what her character here is allowed to do, but she's in fine enough company, relatively speaking.

Reynolds and Jackson get to bicker some more. Morgan Freeman turns up at one point, and the joke is that the filmmakers somehow convinced Freeman to turn up in this movie. Jackson's character is shocked, while Reynolds' character more or less breaks the fourth wall to call Freeman a "legend" and compliment his rich vocal timbre. Just because it's true, that doesn't make it particularly funny.

There is, admittedly, a couple jokes that land well enough in this installment, which means it has a bit of an edge on its predecessor (The original's screenwriter Tom O'Connor comes back, joined by Brandon and Phillip Murphy). The opening scene, in which Bryce relays a constant dream of Kincaid mocking his failed dreams to a therapist (played by Rebecca Front), offers the amusing dynamic of the therapist's barely restrained irritation with her patient and Bryce's complete lack of awareness of that fact.

She recommends a vacation (announcing that he has "graduated from therapy") from guarding anyone, blood, and guns, but obviously, the respite is short-lived. Sonia arrives at his resort in Italy, with decorations and bodies exploding from bullets, and tells Bryce that Kincaid has been abducted by the mafia. The hitman asked for Bryce's help specifically.

Kincaid didn't, of course, which begins all of the old yelling, bickering, and insulting between the duo. Meanwhile, there's another plot involving international intrigue, as Antonio Banderas, one of the most famously Spanish movie stars, plays the quintessentially Greek villain Aristotle Papadopolous. His plan—to get revenge for the European Union's sanctions of Greece, by causing a surge through the entire continent's power grid—is worth as bored a shrug as the one for Banderas' casting is baffled.

The rest of the plotting is far more convoluted than a story that's just an excuse for Reynolds, Jackson, and Hayek to yell at each other has any right to be. They're recruited by an Interpol agent (played by Frank Grillo) who wants them to buy the location of Europe's central power grid, by pretending to be associated with the man they killed to rescue Kincaid. Other Interpol officials have a different plan, but the trio ends up with briefcase anyway.

There's a fight sequence in a night club, with Bryce and Sonia, who has an explosive bracelet attached to her that the movie does nothing with, punching and shooting and impaling all kinds of baddies. That's what seems to happen, at least. Returning director Patrick Hughes keeps his camera moving and shaking so much that all of the stunts and violence, as well as potential suspense of having a main character equipped with an explosive device, are pretty much incomprehensible. A few car chases don't fare much better, although there's a clever joke that seems to put an end to one chase before it even starts. Obviously, it proceeds, regardless.

To be fair, the sequel isn't quite as gleefully cruel in its depiction of violence (A "joke" involving a pair of expendable decoys is a notable exception). That's not saying too much, though, when Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard makes up for its comparative lack of mean-spiritedness with a surplus of aggressive laziness.

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