X done gave it to us. Behold, in all its knuckle-headed glory: xXx: The Return of Xander Cage, a gratuitous bukake of bullets, boobies and brain death. Frequently crass, totally illogical, unapologetically misogynistic and dumb beyond compare, xXx is breathtaking event entertainment that works for almost every single utterly retarded beat. Like a locomotive fueled purely by cocaine and the X Games, this revitalized franchise exists as if within the wet dream of a 13-year old American boy. A slick tshit-nami of dumb dumb dumb, xXx: The Return of Xander Cage is nonetheless perfectly stupid in almost every way imaginable.  


A quick abridged list of things that happen in this second sequel that pulls Vin Diesel’s Xander Cage from retirement: Xander skis through a jungle, has an orgy with 8 girls, sprints through an exploding plane, surfs a wave on a motorcycle, wears a ridiculous fur coat, skateboards sideways on a bus full of cheering children, punches people with his bike’s wheel, gets hit by multiple cars and plays grenade hot potato.  And that’s just in the trailer.

Like a Van Gogh fingerpainted with poo, the film from D.J. Caruso is a diarrhetic masterpiece of idiocracy. Physics is bounced from the club of Caurso with all the ejection force of a flush down a military cargo aircraft as character vaults around the frame unhindered by the arbitrary restraints of gravity. Cinematography Russell Carpenter does commendable work keeping everything visually cogent in xXx’s nonstop onslaught of destruction. For a film that is remarkably busy, it is also notably sensical with all its nonsense.

With a barely audible Vin Diesel smirking and grunting at the forefront – usually affirming that he is, once again, one beat ahead of everyone else – xXx is a noisy menagerie of booms and groans and slaps and reports. Aurally, it’s the Beethoven’s crud-dusted 5th of puerile actioners. A great work of eardrum assaulting bangs, smashes and blasts, one is certain to leave the IMAX theaters with a welcome dash of blood leaking from their ears courtesy of the symphonic masterwork that is xXx‘s aggressive soundscape.

Just as the Fast and Furious franchise is ostensibly about car thieves who are actually invincible superheroes, xXx ostensibly is about extreme sports junkies who are actually invincible superheroes. The parallels don’t end there as xXx is in essence a not-so-discrete spin-off of the hugely popular super soldiers with dope cars franchise. I mean if you squint your eyes, you’d have trouble distinguishing the franchises outside of the obvious fact that the 6’5″ Dwayne Johnson is nowhere to be seen.

To stop and divulge the “plot” of xXx: The Return of Xander Cage is about as necessary as divulging the “plot” of Backdoor Sluts 9. We all know what you’re here for and it’s certainly not “plot”. Just think Fast and Furious 4-7 and you’d be about 75% there. Cage is recruited to retrieve the God’s Eye, er Pandora’s Box, a device capable of turning satellites into undetectable tactical missiles. Diesel’s xXx agent has to put together a team to stop the bad guys because, it’s Vin Diesel; the man can only function when surrounded by a large multicultural ensemble with their own unique specialized set of skills.

Speaking of large multicultural ensembles with their own unique specialized set of skills, xXx delivers with a fast and furious approved cast that, with a good chunk of Chinese funding, is more heavily focused on the Asian side of the equation. Donnie Chen, Tony Jaa and Kris Wu, all Eastern imports with huge pull in an international market increasingly important to franchise success, add martial arts to a film weighed down with too many slugs. Together they provide a much needed reprieve from all the gunfire zipping overhead with their crane kicks and monkey flips and tiger hands. And DJ skills. You can’t forget about the DJ skills.

On the female side of the equation, the nonchalantly stunning Ruby Rose gets to slip in a “That’s what she said” worthy of Michael Scott, Indian superstar Deepika Padukone makes her hit-and-miss Hollywood debut as an ambivalent ally, Nina Dobrev salivates over Diesel’s muscles and Toni Collette shows that she, more than anyone else in this tawdry phoenix from the trash fire flick, actually gets it. She munches through the scenery like Ruby Rose at an all-girls slumber punch. Cackles spill loosely when she’s onscreen.

And they don’t stop. The entire first act of xXx: The Return of Xander Cage is laugh until it hurts funny. From Vin Diesel’s entourage of stupid facial expressions to the amazing stilted dialogue – writer F. Scott Frazier did wonders crafting a film that’s just as easy to comprehend on mute – to the absolutely bogus stunts (refer back to paragraph two), xXx is more than a laugh a minute so careful you don’t drain too much Mountain Dew prior to your showing as you may accidentally loose some in your pants from laughing so hard.

Sure the last hour devolves into an endless parade of bullets and explosions and punches that’s so busy twisting and turning and realigning team allegiances that stopping to answer a question like, “When did man evolve into an invincible cockroach?” just isn’t even necessary anymore. This is a Vin Diesel movie maaaaan. Get your priorities straight. You check your brain at the door with xXx: Return of Xander Cage and if you’re lucky it hasn’t melted into butter flavor in the lobby by the time you’re free from its stupefying grasp.

CONCLUSION: A vapid, is-it-or-isn’t-it-self-aware odyssey into the most epically moronic quadrants of entertainment, ‘xXx: Return of Xander Cage’ is exactly the kind of simpleminded adrenaline cinema it promises to be. Deeply hilarious and impressively staged, this third xXx flick returns Vin Diesel to the pole position with the same dull-eyed verve that makes him such an aloof, enigmatic and yet totally entertaining leading man. See it with friends, preferably intoxicated.

B-

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