Sicario: Day of the Soldado (2018)

Nowhere near as classy or as deliberately shot as the first Sicario, which had a visual elegance to offset any iffy screenplay quibbles. In fact, that very style led it to being at the top of my favourite movies of 2015. Day of the Soldado, sans Deakins and Villenueve, is much more about boots on the ground, and unnecessarily goes into nastier territory, more interested in guts and guns, severely lacking the feminine soul that Emily Blunt brought to its predecessor.

Still, there’s a few highlights, including a shootout in the desert that genuinely left me with sweaty palms. Sheridan recycles the “B-plot that becomes relevant in the third act” schtick he used the first time around, but its way clunkier here with some coincidental plotting that unfortunately feels like fingers frantically bashing at a keyboard to get the draft locked in time. Del Toro and Brolin, both so well drawn in the original, are nowhere near as engaging which constantly serves as a reminder for you to ask the same question you uttered when this was first announced: “why the hell would they want to make a sequel to Sicario?”

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