The Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard (15)

Bodyguard Michael Bryce is in the throes of an existential crisis now he has been stripped of his triple-A rating. A therapist convinces Michael to take a sabbatical from the protection business so he can concentrate on self-improvement during a recuperative break in sun-kissed Capri. International con artist Sonia Kincaid gate-crashes the Mediterranean paradise and compels Michael to help her rescue hitman husband Darius from the clutches of the eastern European mafia.

LondonNet Film Review
The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard (15)

The unwieldy title of director Patrick Hughes’s high-stakes action comedy, a direct follow-up to his 2017 picture The Hitman’s Bodyguard, exemplifies the inelegant, slapdash spirit of a globe-trotting caper which gleefully reunites Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L Jackson and Salma Hayek. Returning writer Tom O’Connor, who penned the sequel’s script with siblings Brandon and Phillip Murphy, evidently believes if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it – a sensible approach if the original film wasn’t beset with miss-and-hit irreverence, loopy plotting and tonal inconsistencies. Those flaws are evident in The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard, which contrives a cursory James Bond-esque plot to disable Europe’s financial markets as a flimsy framework for slow-motion shootouts, bloodthirsty fist fights and an explosive car chase over a collapsing elevated highway…

A heavy reliance on profanity for laughs becomes wearisome – “Your mouth needs an exorcism,” Reynolds informs Hayek during her opening salvo of filth – although some base pleasures are undeniable, such as Hayek’s luridly gynaecological explanation for her character’s inability to fall pregnant. The introduction of Antonio Banderas as a flamboyant arch-nemesis falls depressingly flat. He’s a toothless villain in comfortable footwear without the merest whiff of psychosis or danger. Many of the ramshackle plot’s supporting characters are redundant, including a Scottish Interpol agent, who is an easy target for lazy national stereotyping when she is casually likened to William Wallace and Sean Connery by a gruff American counterpart.

Bodyguard Michael Bryce (Reynolds) is in the throes of an existential crisis now he has been stripped of his triple-A rating. “I’m a bodyguard without a licence. That’s like a belly dancer without a torso!” he laments to his beleaguered therapist (Rebecca Front). She convinces Michael to take a sabbatical from the protection business so he can concentrate on self-improvement during a recuperative break in sun-kissed Capri. International con artist Sonia Kincaid (Hayek) gate-crashes the Mediterranean paradise and compels Michael to help her rescue hitman husband Darius (Jackson) from the clutches of the eastern European mafia.

The daring mission propels Michael, Sonia and Darius into the orbit of Interpol agent Bobby O’Neill (Frank Grillo), who pressgangs the trio into thwarting a diabolical plot masterminded by Greek tycoon Aristotle Papadopolous (Banderas). Unfortunately, Aristotle’s security detail includes award-winning bodyguard Magnusson (Tom Hopper) and sniper Zento (Kristofer Kamiyasu). Perhaps Michael’s stepfather (Morgan Freeman) – a legend in the world of personal protection – can exploit his contacts to avert Euromageddon.

The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard relies on Reynolds’ natural charisma and exuberance to paper over sizeable cracks but there’s only so much one man can do. Frantic pacing extends to action sequences including a triptych of simultaneous brawls, which surrender clarity to rapid-fire editing. Director Hughes’s licence to thrill is revoked.

– Jo Planter