Returning to the action-packed and familiar world of Michael Bryce (Ryan Reynolds), a former AAA certified bodyguard – if you’re wondering why we mentioned his licensed status, it’s actually and disconcertingly a key plot point – whose life was turned upside down in the last film, the hero now struggles to cope with his new status quo as an unlicensed bodyguard. He’s in therapy, he’s on sabbatical and he hates it. But he doesn’t have to worry because Sonia Kincaid (Salma Hayek), the wife of his former client / enemy Darius Kincaid (Samuel L Jackson), needs his help. Darius has been kidnapped and while it seems like a movie-length mission to fill the 99-minute span, The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard has no interest in a single narrative or even a minimum of meaning. All this sequel cares about is high body counts, outrageous sex scenes between Jackson and Hayak, explosions, and whether Michael will get his bodyguard license back… really.
As the central trio follow their MacGuffin to many gorgeous locations across Europe, you can see why three of Hollywood’s most recognizable faces have adopted this lackluster script. Who doesn’t want an all expenses paid European vacation? This is the only part of the film that relates, however. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard doesn’t have the ridiculously sincere heart or power of a Fast and Furious movie, but it doesn’t have the action chops of a John Wick, either. It seems most indebted to classic action movies like Die Hard and the old catalogs of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean-Claude Van Damme, but it hardly has the lineup, script or action sets to deliver. . Instead, it feels like the kind of movie you would put on Netflix on a Saturday and spend most of your time saying, “Did you just see this?” To anyone watching the stakes and the silliness get higher and higher.
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