Pulp Fiction - Summer Edition

DEADPOOL 2 (B) - Ryan Reynolds is a charmer, even when being a nihilistic smart-ass in a super-hero movie.  The original "Deadpool," which we recently caught up with as show prep, required some fast-forwarding through the violent scenes, and I wish I'd had that option at the megaplex for the sequel. But this zips by fast enough in right around two hours, and if you are inured to cartoon violence you might not mind it.

Reynolds besieges the viewer with randy one-liners, fleeting pop-culture references, and obscure Marvel call-backs (and loopy call-backs to call-backs).  T.J. Miller has a bigger role, and he and Reynolds have a verbal sizzle together. The story is far-fetched, as you'd expect. Characters die but come back via the after-life. Leslie Uggams' blind lady character walks the line between offensive and hilarious.  Reynolds seems all in (he gets a screenwriting credit), and a CGI scene that gives him "baby legs" (complete with "Basic Instinct" leg-crossing) is one for the ages, certain to give teenage boys a go-to reference decades hence in a way that "Caddyshack" once did for us. (And I never tired of his quaint exchanges with the super-perky Yukio (Shioli Kutsuna).)

The self-mocking swagger takes the air (the piss?) out of the usual Marvel bloat, and I alternated between laughing out loud at some of the gags and rolling my eyes as the stupid battle scenes. It's all embarrassingly good, raunchy fun.

OCEAN'S EIGHT (B) - A great cast elevates a clever script that tries a little too hard to be clever in this female counterpart to the Steven Soderbergh's tripartite tribute to the Rat Pack, back at the turn of the millennium, when Harvey Weinstein's boys had all of the toys. Sandra Bullock, whose comedic chops we discovered in "The Heat," is more muted than she's been in the past, but she's generous with her co-stars. 

Gen X and Millennial uber stars like Cate Blanchett and Anne Hathaway savor their juicy bad-girl roles. Dame Helena Bonham Carter is charmingly daffy. The single-named Rihanna and Awkwafina bring a punk freshness to the genre. And Sarah Paulson and Mindy Kaling solidify the middle of the lineup.

The plot is clever. You can spot a few holes, but for Hollywood summer fare, the plausibility ranking is unusually high. Director Gary Ross does his usually workmanlike job behind the camera, with a writing assist from newcomer Olivia Milch. Celebrity cameos whiz by. Bullock wisecracks like Barbara Stanwyck. The 110 minutes fly by pretty quickly, and you end up more entertained than insulted. Good enough for summer.