A couple of years ago or so I wrote, in re the first Angels film:

This delightful film has so much uncovered womanflesh, such deep cleavage and so many wet t-shirts, so much martial arts rock-‘em sock-‘em kick-‘em action, so many wonderful flaming explosions, so many rib-tickling double entendres, that if you’re a man with an ounce of red blood in his veins you have at least an eighty percent chance of staying awake through it, though this may at times take some effort. If you’re a woman, red blood or no, the probabilities go way down …

I’m not sure why, because the description remains apt, but it’s harder to fall asleep in this second film. The action is more active, the double entendres more double, the explosions certainly fierier, the cleavage perhaps deeper, and any premed student who watches this entire film should, after finishing it, be able to draw an accurate diagram of the female posterior in his or her sleep.

The plot remains as confused as that of the first movie; apparently, for some inexplicable reason, the Department of Justice has coded information about everybody in the national witness protection program onto a pair of titanium rings, which — again, for some inexplicable reason — have been given to two different government officials to carry around with them. One of them, a U.S. Marshal, loses his while captive in a Mongolia that would be recognizable to Genghis Khan but not to any modern Mongolian; he is rescued by the Angels in a scene that is an unholy hybrid of GoldenEye and Die Another Day. The other is taken from the other official under more prosaic but fatal circumstances … The Angels are now tasked to get the rings back. They proceed to do so with panache and, again, lots and lots of action.

The three angels (Cameron Diaz as Natalie, Drew Barrymore as Dylan — only her real name turns out to be Helen Zaas, which as you may suppose leads to several minutes of really awful puns — and Lucy Liu as Alex) remain eye candy, but scary eye candy. Bill Murray has been replaced in the role of Bosley by his brother (foster, of course) Bernie Mac, who in turn sort of adopts Shia LaBoeuf of Holes, who turns up in an incomprehensible subplot. A second subplot has John Cleese showing up as Alex’s father, clueless about his daughter’s real work (he initially believes her to be a neurosurgeon, but is quickly disabused), which allows Liu to mislead him with yet more double entendres (“The three of us just took on twelve sailors!” — quite true, but subject to misinterpretation). I am also not totally clear about Crispin Glover’s role in the film. There are cameos by two of the original series members: Charlie (John Forsythe), sound only, perhaps because of decrepitude; and Kelly Garrett (Jaclyn Smith), looking remarkably non-decrepit. Demi Moore plays Madison Lee, an interim Angel who has decided to go independent, with a vengeance.

The director McG, probably known primarily for the first Charlie’s Angels film, seems to have fun imitating or perhaps spoofing other directors. Watch particularly for John Woo-style action. You may also enjoy matching up various scenes with parodies of other movies and TV shows (e.g. CSI).

Expect nothing but fun from this film, and you will probably have it. Those who expect anything more would probably be better advised to spend an afternoon reading Proust.