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Projected, broadcast or downloaded images that dissolve as they are projected, broadcast or downloaded, written, directed and interpreted without much desire to be seen distractedly. Before these movies that dissolved like sugar cast on water screens they were performed by third or fourth row actors and were screened in peripheral cinemas where most of the small audience went to take a nap. Now they have big budget, luxury deals (Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L. Jackson, Morgan Freeman, Antonio Banderas and … well, Salma Hayek and Fran Grillo are also valid as well as Gary Oldman and our Simón Andreu) and, with the periphery cinemas gone, they are premiered in the same multiplexes than the other movies.
It would be nice if I had an air lounge from revisiting the B-series spy movies that proliferated in the 1960s in European co-productions in the heat of the Bond fury and they had titles as suggestive as Agent 003: Operation Atlantis, No flowers for OSS 117, Order: FX18 must die, Agent 077: from the East with a rage O Agent 3S3: Passport to Hell (excuse this outlet with nostalgia for a select ice cream parlor and aroma of neighborhood cinema covered with pine air freshener). But it lacks this sympathetic self-awareness of its own nothingness and is intended as a fun, electrifying and expensive A-series entertainment game.
As in those old and modest movies there is a world plot (or rather European, since it is the European Union that is threatened) led by two super evildoers (Banderas and Freeman) who will face the well-known disparate couple of the bodyguard and the murderer (Reynolds and Jackson) with the support, encouragement and urgency of the wife of the second (Hayek).
Entertains whoever enters the game. Noise, shots, hits, chases and jokes there is to be fed. More of the same as in the previous installment, exaggerating everything a bit, in the vein of the film that put Australian director Patrick Hughes down this path when he debuted in Hollywood with The Expendables 3.
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