Machete Kills is not a work of autership. The latest in a series of grindhouse-revival films kicked off by director Robert Rodriguez’s collaboration with Quentin Tarantino, Machete Kills diverges as a sequel from the original Machete in McGuffin more than form or content. Then plotline is as raggedy and half-baked as the first and the character development and motifs are of the same post-modern cloth: entirely over-the-top, in reminiscence of actual grindhouse films while simultaneously mocking all movie premises that bear any likeness to the farces contained within. Although as one-note and as hackneyed as the original, Machete aspires to bev, and boy does it deliver.

Danny Trejo reprises his role as the eponymous Machete, archetypical silent action hero cum serial killer with a Mexican twist, as he continues his work of tracking down the bad guys and slaughtering them in gory fashion. More so then the original, Machete Kills’ cast is studded with stars both falling and rising, including Charlie Sheen as Carlos Estevez (as the president of the United States), and Demian Bichir as Mendez – a rouge freedom fighter and cartel hitman who’s got a nuke pointed at Washington. The rest of the cast, including Michelle Rodriguez, Sofía Vergara, Lady Gaga (in her first film role), Amber Heard, and Mel Gibson have equally topic roles that are heavy on style without too much introspection or substance, each one a vicious killer (naturally) and saddled with so many stereotypical character descriptors that it would get repetitive to enumerate them all.

Much like with the characters, the movie’s plot is also a big middle finger to gradual and realistic movie arcs, going for broke from the minute the opening preview for the next Machete sequel (Machete in Space) ends, a tactic that pays off over and over again as the movie progresses. Much as the film is saturated with the camp sleaze and mindless violence, it also abounds with plotlines, starting at first with a sting gone bad – Machete’s love interest from the first movie Sartana (Jessica Alba) gets killed after a confrontation with the military, a cartel, and a gang of thugs in wrestling masks – and then crescendoing endlessly into a hit on dangerous Mexican vigilante Mendez, a race back across the border with him, and enough twists and turns to confuse even the most obsessive viewer. No plot line is too flimsy and no action is the final action as the body count grows and the sleazy action gets ever more creative. Attempting to seriously follow this windy road will leave you disappointed and, in any case, distracts from the movies true gifts: it’s sex and violence.

Like any good grindhouse movie, Machete Kills is stuffed with sleaze, radiating from every skimpy, barely more than a bikini outfit and from it’s numerous contrived excuses for grindhouse aesthetic choices, sexual innuendos, and 80’s mood music. So frequent and unexplained are these homages to blatant sexuality, which are impossible to take as serious plot developments due to their frequency, that the scenes end up being laughable sight gags and wonderful opportunities for pulp, drenched in bad taste and 70s nostalgia. Notable moments include Vergara’s multiple weaponized bras and “sex” scenes so schlocky as to make you laugh in remembrance of all the other awfully arranged trysts that movies have used over the years.

This constant, humorous barrage of outdated sexuality is buffeted by nearly non-stop violence, reminding the audience that, yes, they are watching Machete Kills and thus will be treated to instance after instance of Machete killing hundreds of nameless goons with machetes, guns, and other weapons both modern and futuristic. Assassins of all stripes attempt to take Machete down, with El Chameleon’s many actors holding center stage as the tertiary antagonist du jour in this splatter fest.  At once heavy-handed comments on America’s long running obsession with firepower and Mexico’s cripplingly violent drug culture, these scenes alternate between absurd and downright creative, Machete in turns kills dozens of attackers without breaking a sweat, then pulls off truly devious fatalities, death by helicopter blade and death by speedboat propeller being some of the more obtuse but fun scenes.

There are a couple things missing from Machete Kills that were present in the original: violent, noir-gone monologues that made the original such a pleasure are missing here. The conceit of Machete trying to live an average life instead of the murderous action hero he is has disappeared completely, and some of the more tender, believable, and slower paced beats that allowed audience time to breath when watching Machete have been removed. Although a noticeable loss for the film, Machete Kills overcompensates the original film’s core competencies, and comparing fight scene to fight scene, gore to gore, and sleaze to sleaze leaves Machete Kills a more resounding, if not more enjoyable, movie experience. It has left the artistic clutching at the grindhouse aesthetic behind in favor of actually being a grindhouse movie, which when all is said and done is really refreshing.

That eros and pathos in their grimiest, campiest, and most Americanized forms dominate this film is in line with the original grindhouses of the 70s and 80s and highlights the reason their resurgence in the current era was so popular: they were honest and up front about not being junk and were not to be taken seriously. Pure food for the id, Machete Kills doesn’t pretend to have a moral or some high-minded plot that’ll challenge your views or bring you to a deeper understanding of anything. Unlike so many movies released these days that purport to be meaningful works of art while just giving their audiences more of the same, Machete Kills doesn’t masquerade for a minute. It is an indiscriminate banquet of sex, death, sleaze, and cheapness and doesn’t apologize for it, a gluttonous feast of bad acting and cheesy effects in the vein of Plan 9 and other pinnacles of trash film.

Machete Kills is not for everyone. There are plenty of things about this film that, if taken in anything less than a humorous and accommodating mood will offend many outright, offensiveness being part of the currency of grindhouse films and the reason so many of them were considered “exploitation” films. It is an easily forgotten film that doesn’t stretch it’s concept to compete with the likes of 2011’s Hobo With a Shotgun and lacks the snappy, 70’s-cool dialogue of Reservoir Dogs or Death Proof, but as far as splatter fests goes, Machete Kills stands up there with best.  The writing isn’t as terse and memorable as Machete, but Machete Kills makes up for it with sheer spectacle and grindhouse pageantry, and if that’s why you came – most people did at my screening – then you’ll go away happy.

B

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