If you broke into my house and beat the shit out of me, that would be pretty f--king uncool. As long as it was just me, we might have to have some pretty strong words, after that. You know, after I got out of the hospital and learned to talk again.
If you broke into my house and killed my dog, Dodger, well I'm fairly certain I'm going to bury my beloved pup in a tear-filled blur, likely delirious for the next decade of my life. And then I would proceed to murder you and your entire family, possibly even your close friends and acquaintances, too.
But if you walked into my house, was denied my assistance in an important matter, and proceeded to then blow my residence straight to f--king Hell, well, you'd basically be forcing my hand, you know? I mean, you're going to get, like, the biggest hug ever!!!!
See, I f--king hate where I live, both the house and the location, so do me a favor, Italian Crime Lord Guy, and blow this place the f--k up. In review], it's still a Hell of a ride.
Taking place a few days after the first film, it seems John can't escape his violent past. This time around, his dog is safe (thankfully), but after his home is destroyed, it would appear that Mr. Wick basically has nothing left. Except a debt.
A giant f--king debt.
See, when John got out a few years back, he apparently called in a pretty big favor to do so. The guy who granted him his release from the shadowy world of elite hitmen, Santino D'Antino, has come calling on John for payback. And his request/demand...is a pretty tall f--king order. John must not only infiltrate the underground organization he's desperate to leave behind, but he's to assassinate a very high-ranking official. If he succeeds, he'll be wanted by every fellow hitman skulking around the world. And if he fails, well, he'll be dead as f--k. But what if he just says no, and tells D'Antino to f--k off? Yeah...about that...
Look, even if he was just at Home Depot buying wood for the reconstruction of his house for two and half hours, more John Wick on the big screen is a good thing. No, f--k that, a great thing. While the first one had me leaning forward and demanding that droves of henchmen eat a f--king fistful of bullets (uh, and they did), this time, I honestly grew tired of Keanu Reeves shooting guys first in the legs, and then in the face. I know! Someone should kick my ass for typing that, I agree, but after the 97th shootout, I stopped really giving a f--k. I gave like, three-quarters of a f--k. Maybe five-eighths.
The lore of this world is cool as Hell, and exploring more of it was certainly appreciated, but for whatever reason, it all felt low-stakes. John's part of a franchise now, there's no way he's going to f--king die at this point. And with (consistently intense and loud-as-f--k) gunplay as the main way motherf--kers die, there's simply not a lot of suspense. There's only so long a gun-fight can last, you know, especially when everybody's a trained assassin.
Speaking of highly-skilled, uh, asses, here are the Yays and Boos. This was the second film of a rare cinematic double-header (with my lovely wife, no less!), and it was easily the top of the f--king mountain that day. Though, considering John Wick is a hard f--ker, and the other one is about a guy that f--ks harder, that might not be saying much.
If you broke into my house and killed my dog, Dodger, well I'm fairly certain I'm going to bury my beloved pup in a tear-filled blur, likely delirious for the next decade of my life. And then I would proceed to murder you and your entire family, possibly even your close friends and acquaintances, too.
But if you walked into my house, was denied my assistance in an important matter, and proceeded to then blow my residence straight to f--king Hell, well, you'd basically be forcing my hand, you know? I mean, you're going to get, like, the biggest hug ever!!!!
Taking place a few days after the first film, it seems John can't escape his violent past. This time around, his dog is safe (thankfully), but after his home is destroyed, it would appear that Mr. Wick basically has nothing left. Except a debt.
A giant f--king debt.
See, when John got out a few years back, he apparently called in a pretty big favor to do so. The guy who granted him his release from the shadowy world of elite hitmen, Santino D'Antino, has come calling on John for payback. And his request/demand...is a pretty tall f--king order. John must not only infiltrate the underground organization he's desperate to leave behind, but he's to assassinate a very high-ranking official. If he succeeds, he'll be wanted by every fellow hitman skulking around the world. And if he fails, well, he'll be dead as f--k. But what if he just says no, and tells D'Antino to f--k off? Yeah...about that...
Look, even if he was just at Home Depot buying wood for the reconstruction of his house for two and half hours, more John Wick on the big screen is a good thing. No, f--k that, a great thing. While the first one had me leaning forward and demanding that droves of henchmen eat a f--king fistful of bullets (uh, and they did), this time, I honestly grew tired of Keanu Reeves shooting guys first in the legs, and then in the face. I know! Someone should kick my ass for typing that, I agree, but after the 97th shootout, I stopped really giving a f--k. I gave like, three-quarters of a f--k. Maybe five-eighths.
 |
| Mirror, mirror on the wall, I can't wait for John to kill them all. |
Speaking of highly-skilled, uh, asses, here are the Yays and Boos. This was the second film of a rare cinematic double-header (with my lovely wife, no less!), and it was easily the top of the f--king mountain that day. Though, considering John Wick is a hard f--ker, and the other one is about a guy that f--ks harder, that might not be saying much.
 |
| So, if she looks like a man, and I still want to do her....uhh...? |
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
- Before I say anything, perhaps the ultimate Yay, is Ian f--king McShane, reprising his role as Winston. I don't think I could ever get enough of this man. Ever.
- Lemme tell ya, after sitting through Fifty Shades of Grey's Anatomy, the opening five-minutes of asskicking in John Wick: Chapter 2 had me infinitely more turned on than all that ass-f--king.
- It's SO. LOUD. All of it.*squeals^
- The scene in the garage was f--king legendary. Cars are smashing in every direction, John's wasting, uh, everybody, and it never lets up. Holy shit, I thought I was going to pass out.
- Stormare! Yessssss!
- That was quite the pat-down, no? I probably would have involuntarily turned my head and coughed.
- I'm pretty sure we've got the new cinematic champion for badass walking around.
- The sigh of relief that John's not here for the Pope!
- Okay, the initial gear-up/suit-up/recon montage was f--king awesome. That suits already cool as f--k, but the fact that it's bulletproof? Guys...I'm in my late-thirties. I've only got so many boners left.
- So, I used to think that heaven was a bunch of people dressed nicely, floating in clouds and such. But now I've seen the light. And it's a switchboard room. With a bunch of sleeveless chicks, smoking cigarettes and making shit happen.
- I heard he killed two guys with a pencil. Uh, at least.
- I realize that New York's a pretty tough city, but for f--k's sake...no one really seems all that concerned with endless casual gunfire. Damn, dudes.
- I was happy enough with a second John Wick movie...but, uh...a fourth Matrix? Yes, please.
- Even though it gets a bit repetitive, let me put my hands together for decipherable action. No ridiculous cuts, no over-reliance on shaky-cam. Just Keanu Reeves shooting wave after wave of dudes in the face. *holds up hand for a hi-five*
- And finally, that f--king ending. Not really sure where the Hell we're going from here, and even less sure of how far he makes it in an hour, but I'm damn sure I'll be there to find out. Assuming, of course, that the next time I walk around a corner, someone doesn't shoot me in my eyeball.
 |
| I don't look that composed shooting the breeze... let alone whatever f--king monstrosity this thing is. |
Boooooooooo!
- Sir, he's one man. This f--king guy.
- Man, somewhere in my dresser, I have an old card I bought for my wife, too. But if someone steals my dresser? Uh, I'll just buy another card (the Boo is I'm a giant pussy).
- I feel bad asking anyone to watch my dog for a day. John? He doesn't share this feeling.
- Secret societies and underground clubs can never book anyone noteworthy. Like, I get it, Japanese Lady Gaga puts on a Hell of a show, sure, but that's not the concert I want to get shot in the face at. I'm thinking a Train show would be the ideal place to welcome a bullet.
- Sometimes, all of John's intense aiming is a bit silly, no?
- Uh, that Italian chick was a little too hardcore for my tastes, you know? Cool, cool...go ahead and take care of this yourself. That's fine. I don't want to hold your hand or anything....
- Okay, there's a pretty epic music-less fight between John and Cassian (Common, solid) that I was a big fan of. But I look over at my lady-friend, and she's giggling. I'm like, what the f--k are you laughing at? And she sort of half says, are you listening to all this grunting? And it kind of hit me: yes, this sounds like two huge guys f--king each other up. Down. And sideways.
- John, I feel ya. I once cracked my phone at work, too. But I didn't kill anybody afterward....dammit.
- That homeless guy was a huge help. Everytime I ask a panhandler to hide me, they kidnap me for weeks and make me give them foot massages. John totally lucked out.
- And finally, after awhile, I'm pretty sure you might want to hang back on ol' John Wick. I'm no genius (obviously), but rushing around that corner to avenge the seventy-seven of your hench-friends that just caught three bullets in their necks? Yeah...that's probably not going to work out for you, bud. Just a thought...
Being (even slightly) mad at a John Wick movie is likely a punishable offense, I understand that. And as maybe one of the biggest Keanu Reeves fans ever, I pretty much deserve whatever hate I get after not loving the shit out of Chapter 2. But instead of saying something shitty in the comments or whatever (and leaving my dog [uh, and family] out of it, why don't you man up and ask me to step outside to discuss this further, you know?
Cause I can be out front in two seconds, asshole. Two seconds.
And then you can burn this f--ker to the ground, okay? OKAY?
Thanks again, mate. I f--king owe you big time.