Director: McG
Starring: Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, Lucy Liu, Bernie Mac, Matt LeBlanc, Demi Moore
Running time: 105 minutes
Certificate: 12A
Release date: July 4th
What's it about?
"They're beautiful, they kick ass and they work for Charlie", holler the ads. It is not, however, a documentary about London's toot-snorting media gals. It's the much-hyped follow-up to, well, take a wild guess. The first Angels movie took over 250 million dollars worldwide, so despite the fact that it was utter nonsense, a franchise was born. Rarely in cinematic history has a movie boasted less of a plot (what it's about is, accurately, wiggling bottoms and multiple costume changes), but for what it's worth, here goes.
The post-millennial angels, sassier and more ironic than the Seventies telly icons, are undercover spies who save the world, pretty much on a daily basis, for their enigmatic boss Charlie. This time they're out to retrieve some missing silver rings, which contain invaluable encrypted information concerning protected witnesses (or something). As the witnesses begin to get bumped off, our heroines visit Mongolia, golden surfer beaches, racetracks, strip clubs (obviously) and nunneries (obviously). There are lots of crashes, fights, explosions, loud pop records and moments where it's absolutely essential to the plot that Cameron Diaz wears little in the way of clothing.
Is it any good?
Well, there are lots of moments where it's absolutely essential to the plot that Cameron Diaz wears little in the way of clothing. But then, I'm a boy. Is it - as has brazenly been pitched - empowering in a radical feminism kind of way? Only if you think FHM covers are a really powerful intellectual statement. Diaz, Barrymore and Liu do seem to have fun, and there are some nifty jokes early on, but it soon gets repetitive. The sheer pace - McG directs as if we all have ten seconds left to live - is initially exhilarating, eventually wearisome. It's rapid-fire set-piece after rapid-fire set-piece, with nothing given time to settle. For this reason the "characters" - Bernie Mac, Matt Le Blanc, Luke Wilson and John Cleese as the "good guys"; Crispin Glover and Justin Theroux as the "bad guys" - barely register. When Demi Moore turns up as a former Angel turned bitch-from-hell, there's a brief frisson of charisma, but McG's terrified of allowing us to check out whether she's aged well, and keeps cutting away as if embarrassed. Frankly she could be looking twelve or seventy; we have no way of knowing.
The trio themselves do convey a sense of bonding, and enjoy their quips about "asses", "moistness" and "being ridden long and hard" (yes, it's classy stuff). There are one or two spectacular moments, most of them played by Diaz with her unique blend of arch smartness and ditzy goofiness, but whenever things slow down the girls are just thrown once again into unlikely kit-off scenarios. For all the state-of-the-art energy, the final catfight between Diaz and Moore is lame, and we're supposed to be surprised when someone who's been shot isn't dead because - hey! - she was wearing a bulletproof vest. Still, at least that's one scene where she was wearing more than her knickers.
For the record the soundtrack, from Tone Loc to Henry Mancini, from Edwyn Collins to MC Hammer, is fabulous.
Best Bit
Barrymore in a Bowie spoof as a female wrestler called Lady Insane, or Liu explaining to dad Cleese why she's just been romping with twelve sailors.
Go see this if...
You're a woman who thinks that three females getting along with each other okay constitutes a feminist statement that says more than Gloria Steinem ever managed in all those books with long words, or you're a person of either gender who just wants to unplug your brain for a while and fill your head with expensive candy floss, cos let's face it on a hot summer's night you can only think about Donald Rumsfeld for so long...