Everything you could possibly want from a sequel to Deadpool is in place: the relentless breaking-down of the fourth wall; Deadpool’s twisted, self-flagellating humor and his snipes at pop culture (from dubstep that won’t die to Frozen to Yentl of all things), the X-Men franchise, characters in the franchise, the death of characters in the franchise (which Deadpool, by mutant configuration, can’t do, although Deadpool 2 fucks around with this quite adequately). There are perfectly choreographed, partially slow-motion, and hilariously absurd CGI-augmented (and in some cases fully initiated) fight sequences; gratuitous and non-too-serious violence and carnage; irreverent opening credits that comment on the film while not actually telling you who’s involved in it… But Deadpool 2 ups the ante by killing off a pretty significant character before those credits even roll, and that death inspires their indignant tone.
The death also fuels the plotline of what Deadpool, aka Wade Wilson (once again played by Ryan Reynolds), has christened a “family film” (much the same way the first one is a love story—i.e., don’t bring the kids), and it takes him from his own decimated apartment to the X-Mansion (where we get our gratuitous cameo) to his first mission as an agent (in training) at a mutant rehabilitation center—reining in out-of-control 14-year-old Russell Collins, who’s angry as hell and burning a whole lot of shit down with a wave of his upraised fists (hence his self-styled mutant name, Firefist). Things go poorly, as is often the case when Deadpool’s involved (he doesn’t follow rules well, or at all), and his form of help lands both he and Firefist in mutant prison.
Basically, Deadpool spends a lot of time wallowing in his own self-pity, the boundaries of his mutant-ness are tested, and once he figures out what he’s supposed to be doing—keeping a soldier from the future, Cable (Josh Brolin), from killing Russell—the action re-starts in earnest. And thus, the introduction of more problems, a few new badass villains (one sympathetic, one sheer brute), the assemblage of the motliest crew of superheroes you’ve ever seen—including my new favorite, Domino (played with superb ease and impeccable comedic timing by Atlanta’s Zazie Beetz), whose super power, luck, is initially scoffed at but proves to be quite handy—and loads more action, ass-kicking, explosions, sight gags, and even a backdoor electrocution.
It’s offensive as hell. Gory. Ridiculously campy. But it never fails at being laugh out loud hilarious (yes, I LOL’d muchly), self-deprecating to the extreme, and often unexpectedly charming and poignant, if in a completely disgusting way. The takeaway? If you love Deadpool, you’ll love Deadpool 2. If you didn’t love or even like Deadpool, why the fuck are you wasting time on this review? Get the fuck outta here.