Moretz executing flips and villains in the first movie did give it an uncomfortably comic bite, as did Mindy’s slavish devotion to her psychotic father, a self-styled superhero called Big Daddy (Nicolas Cage). Like the first movie, the sequel tries to use extremes, including caricatures, to generate woozy comedy. You may also wonder who at Universal signed off on a flick in which human beings are as disposable as tissues, and teenagers shoot to kill. Even so, you may still shiver in repugnance at the scene in which a number of New York cops are slaughtered for giggles. When Hit Girl, a k a Mindy, kills a thief, it’s with the glazed indifference that lets you know that nothing matters, not the man bleeding out at her feet, not Dave’s fleeting shock and certainly not her humanity. His worst offense is that he has no understanding of the power, gravity and terrible beauty of violent imagery, which means he has no grasp of cinema. The writer and director, Jeff Wadlow, can’t obscure the movie’s misogyny, and he also has a tough time staging a scene and selling a joke.
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