Bad Boys For Life (2020) - Movie Review

The Bad Boys movies are basically ground zero for what filmmaker Michael Bay is recognised for, and not just because the first film served as his initial break into feature filmmaking. Watching it today, the first Bad Boys contains so many quips and plot threads and, hell, even entire characters that could only work in the 90’s, it surpasses the point of being dated into being its own cultural artefact. A snapshot of a bygone era in action cinema, one made easier to watch because Will Smith and Martin Lawrence’s chemistry is that damn tight.

The second film is closer to the Michael Bay we all know and… recognise, to the point where it’s so damn sophomoric that even the energetic action scenes can be tough to watch. That and drilling Shake Ya Tailfeather into the audience’s eardrums, a feat that has only served to deepen my disdain for the bulk of Bay’s oeuvre.

I bring all this up not just as proof that I actually did my homework this time around and watched the predecessors, but also to help set up just how much of a left-hook this latest entry is. The Bad Boys films, whether you like them or not, are classic wish-fulfillment action yarns, the kind where accountability and good taste come second to being as ‘cool’ as possible. This film ain’t like that. In fact, even for postmodern re-examination sequels, this really pushes the boat out.

Smith and Lawrence, the duo whose chemistry and improvisation made the original films what they are, are in prime form. Lawrence has been out of the cinema spotlight for a while, after the Big Momma movies almost killed his career where it stood, but he’s bounced back like nothing happened and nails his characteristic good cop schtick. And as for Smith, he is more energised than he’s been in a very long time, letting all that charisma and smoothness permeate the frame. He’s so bloody engaging that I almost want to bring him back in time to when he was doing shit like Bright and Gemini Man and just have him go “THIS is what you should be doing”.

Of course, while they’re certainly back on their bullshit, that same intuit has given way to a more seasoned depiction of Miami’s baddest cops. Along with the decidedly less jag-off sense of humour on display, keeping the quips light without clashing against the bloodshed, the way that their age has influenced the characters is honestly quite sobering. Lawrence’s Marcus has sunk fully into his role as a family man with the birth of his grandson, and Smith’s Mike gets put through the wringer in looking back on his past actions and… well, growing up. They joke about how no-one wants to sing a song called ‘Good Men’, but if they just stuck with ‘Badmen’, they could snag Joey Bada$$’ No. 99 for the next film’s soundtrack.

Speaking of which, oh lordy lordy, this is a killer soundtrack. It keeps with the Latin spice of the previous entries, with Lorne Balfe’s orchestrations working nicely at building on the previous character themes as well as punching up the action beats, and it even throws in some genuine surprises. For one, Pitbull teamed up once again with Lil’ Jon for Damn I Love Miami, and the fact that Mr. Worldwide didn’t make me want to scrape off my ears is definite progress.

The mixing around with reggae, dancehall and hip-hop tunes give some real zest to the proceedings, but you know me: I’m all about the needle drops. And quite frankly, putting Run The Jewels’ 2100 against a criminal weapons sale was fucking glorious. Partly because Boots’ crooning ends up adding to the film’s larger aesthetic, but mainly because I just assumed no-one knew RTJ for anything other than Nobody Speak. I love that song too, but seriously, can we cool off on that one for a bit?

Honestly, more so than anything else here, even the insane levels of progress made with the characters, the main thing I love about this film? The spiritual side of things. Yes, the cops that once spent an entire scene trying to intimidate a teenager into leaving their daughter alone are getting into some proper soul shit here; I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a left-hook. The film basically pits the Christian God, as represented through Marcus praying for his partner and himself, against the spirit of Santa Muerte, as represented by cartel boss and literal witch Isabel Aretas, played incredibly by Kate del Castillo, in a battle for the souls of the main characters.

As much as I want to point at the modern treatment of Mexican cartels (or, if we’re being honest, Mexico in general) in action movies, and groan at the chance for more caricaturing, since the cult devoted to Santa Muerte has a lot of overlap with real-world cartels … honestly, I think this is going for something a little deeper than that. Among other things, Santa Muerte is commonly perceived as a spirit of vengeance, a being one prays to to get their pound of flesh. And as we’ve seen in the previous films, the Bad Boys know how to get their revenging on, even when it isn’t necessary. But through Marcus’ almost-literal divine intervention, he basically plays Virgil to Mike’s Dante in guiding him to a better path. One where forgiveness is the path to salvation, not regarding his own vendetta as worth risking the lives of everyone else.

It is genuinely remarkable just how rich this film is, and what’s more, it manages to maintain that alongside an overweight and coked-up accountant telling Marcus “I’m gonna fast food fist fuck you”. It delves into the spiritual without getting overwrought, and it sticks with the levity without sabotaging the mood or the quite effective action scenes. This is a new threshold for these decades-removed follow-up movies, since it not only adjusts the series standard, but also wields it to tell its own story, one that is just as influenced by those originals as it is by the new writers, new directors, and new perspective from the actors. It is bloody fantastic, and whether you love the older movies or just plain can’t stand them for their Bayhem, I’d still recommend checking this one out.