Misfiring sequel gets a little lost in the desert.

The concept of a mid-budget hit feels rather alien in the modern movie climate. Through the current embarrassment of easily accessible online content, the rise of the micro-budget (primarily horror) hit, and the increased demand for expensive cinematic spectacle; there appears little room in cinemas for those modestly budgeted efforts caught somewhere in the middle of it all.

Despite the odd prestige, Oscar-worthy drama slipping through the net, there just isn’t the appetite within the industry for putting $20-40 million behind a film that may well prove critically successful, yet will likely struggle to find an audience at a time where the slow-burn box office hit appears less and less likely with every passing year.

Perhaps one genre where the mid-budget approach still has the potential to unearth a hit or two is the thriller. While far from cheap to make, there’s just something about the genre that can grab an audience by the scruff of the neck and make for compulsive viewing, despite a relatively modest scale.

Certainly, one of the more curious examples of this approach in recent years has been Sicario. Embodying the kind of tense crime grit that made Michael Mann’s name, while showcasing his own unique filmmaking style, director Denis Villeneuve hit that sweet spot between indie cool and financial hit with the precision of a sniper. And, while the film hardly set the box office alight upon initial release, critical consensus and its subsequent uptake on home viewing led to Sicario becoming a nice slow cooked hit for studio, Lionsgate.

While it’s almost inevitable that any hit film will be considered for a sequel at some point, few anticipated one for Sicario - a movie that that positively thrived on its self-contained, low-key nature. Yet, here we are, three years on from the film’s release and, while few out there will have expected (or even wanted) Sicario 2: Soldado, the allure of delving even deeper into the film’s murky, morally blurred world is almost too tempting to pass up on.

As the drug war along the U.S. border escalates, the Mexican cartels have begun trafficking terrorists into America with grave consequences. After the devastating suicide bombing of a Kansas City grocery store, federal agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) is tasked to deal with the precarious situation via his own unique brand of counter terrorism. Once again calling on his mysterious associate, Alejandro Gillick (Benicio del Toro), Matt plots a covert mission to escalate a cartel war and disrupt the flow of terrorist trafficking by any means necessary. But when the kidnapping of a cartel kingpin’s daughter spirals out of control, the two men are left questioning everything and everyone they’ve been fighting for.

As criminal boogiemen go, the Mexican cartels appear all the rage these days. Whether Mafia, Yakuza, Triad, Irish, biker, or even that Guy Ritchie brand of cockney gangster; the taste for any given organised crime faction comes and goes according to cinematic tastes and, as of right now, the cartels seem to be the Hollywood gangster of choice.

Rightly or wrongly, in an age of Trumps, walls, and “bad hombres”; the spotlight on Mexico’s criminal underbelly feels about as current as it gets. Even in a pre-Trump era (if you can even remember such a thing), the simmering tension, violence, and desperation witnessed on and around the U.S. border has been fertile storytelling ground for quite some time.

Riding that combustible wave with an articulate and morally fluid examination of the cartels and their fraught relationship with authorities north of the border, Sicario drew a stunning, yet immensely bleak, picture of a situation from which few emerge smelling of roses. No one saw it coming but when Sicario hit, it hit hard, with a nuanced dissection of war, drugs, crime, corruption, and the lengths some go to uphold political dominance.

It was brutal, no doubt about it, yet the delicacy of the film’s approach to such a complex situation and the morally grey picture it painted of both sides was exceptional, landing somewhere between the creeping existential hell of Apocalypse Now and the simmering criminal bravado of Heat. Unfortunately, in comparison, Sicario 2: Soldado appears blunt, lumbering, and totally lacking in nuance.

We begin with an interesting twist on the first film’s premise, as the cartels’ focus shifts from drug to people trafficking, bringing with it an intriguing setup that promises a unique take on terrorism and the tragic cost of treating humans as commodities. The premise is infinitely fascinating, yet, just as quickly as Soldado sets it all up, it yanks the handbrake for a screeching U-turn towards old, well-worn territory.

With the path wide open for Soldado to pick up the baton from Sicario and run with it, to take its predecessor’s themes and spin them off in fascinating ways, the film loses all bottle just as the going gets tough. Swapping drugs for people ultimately feels of little consequence considering the route Soldado finds itself taking and, despite the combination of two of the hottest of hot-button topics in terrorism and illegal immigration, things feel far too lacking in inspiration to do them the justice they deserve.

Meandering over the border and back again, the plot completely lacks impetus as Matt and Alejandro wage a war that goes nowhere and ends up just as messy as it sounds. There are kidnappings here and roadside ambushes there as the narrative’s focus wavers dramatically, fumbling around for a hook and a purpose that never arrive.

As is inevitable with any sequel, comparisons will be made between Soldado and its predecessor and, when held up side by side, the results are far from favourable, as Soldado’s disappointing lack of style and depth become abundantly clear.

With Denis Villeneuve missing from the director’s chair and the expert eye of cinematographer, Roger Deakins, conspicuous by its absence, the film looks a pale imitation of what went before. Soldado is dark and brooding when it wants to be, but it all falls terribly flat as things wear on, with no visual panache to carry it or differentiate it from any other crime thriller on the market.

While it sees itself come up short on several occasions, the one aspect that Soldado goes toe-to-toe with its predecessor on is its fist-gnawing tension. It was one key factors that made Sicario so special, as we were dragged kicking and screaming through some of the tensest scenes you’re likely to come across on the big screen, and Soldado honours this wholeheartedly.

Thanks largely to returning scribe, Taylor Sheridan, who’s work since Sicario has shown him to be one of the most promising screenwriters in Hollywood today, Soldado milks the inherent tension of its circumstances for every drop. Nothing touches the unbearable edginess of Sicario’s excruciatingly tense traffic jam scene, but it comes pretty damn close at times, as missions go awry and circumstances become increasingly unpredictable.

Helped immensely by a relentless, grinding, primal score by Hildur Guðnadóttir, who does a fine job in honouring the late, great Jóhann Jóhannsson’s work on Sicario while adding her own distinct flavour; Soldado’s droning atmosphere feels thick with tension as it slowly wraps itself around you and refuses to let go.

All the tension and the atmospherics feed into the film’s action perfectly, with set pieces building steadily before exploding as shockingly and as violently as anything we’ve seen before. The violence on display is visceral, grimy, and often excessive, yet it fits the Sicario universe like a blood-soaked glove. However, make no mistake about it, this is an action film dressed up as a thriller that gleefully sacrifices Sicario’s brains for a brawn that’s ultimately far less satisfying.

The shock of the film’s opening ten minutes, coupled with the rather disturbing interrogation scene that follows, sees Soldado off the blocks at a fine pace, yet it almost immediately starts pumping the brakes. From this moment on, Soldado never really finds its rhythm as it wobbles uneasily between scenes of drawn-out contemplation and all-out carnage, making for a rather choppy, uneven pace.

The entire plot seems to meander aimlessly and awkwardly towards an end that never truly satisfies, leaving us dangling frustratingly through a total lack of conviction and a bull-headed determination to leave things wide open for a further sequel; all while neglecting to offer us any reason to keep caring.

To this end, the absence of Emily Blunt feels like the biggest blow to Soldado’s ambitions as, without her, the film loses its heart altogether. Josh Brolin and Benicio del Toro are as great as ever, especially del Toro who brings with him the unhinged volatility that popped so effectively in Sicario, but there’s no avoiding the gaping void left in Blunt’s absence.

Heart may be the last thing you’re looking for from a film series renowned for its bleak, borderline nihilistic approach, yet Emily Blunt brought it in spades with a wide-eyed innocence that added so much weight to Sicario’s ultimate impact and, without her naïve, earnest presence, there’s precious little to invest in with Soldado.

Blunt’s Kate Macer was the closest Sicario came to a full-blown protagonist as she was thrown head-first into a murky, grimy desert of morally ambiguous government officials and cutthroat cartels. It’s not that Soldado doesn’t function without her, it just feels far less emotionally resonant as a result.

Despite an attempt to inject a quasi-paternal relationship into the mix when Alejandro is left holding the baby with Isabela Moner’s kidnapped cartel daughter (who is superb), Soldado is often such a bleak viewing experience that it’s almost unbearable at times. The shades of grey approach to morality certainly feels refreshing in a black and white blockbuster world, yet many of Soldado’s characters are so detestable it becomes increasingly hard to root for any of them.

Lacking the flair and distinct style of its predecessor, Sicario 2: Soldado fails to live up to its lofty expectations. Meandering and aimless, the film feels a little pointless after the taught, self-contained brutality of Sicario and, despite attempts to touch on some interesting hot-button issues like terrorism, the U.S.-Mexico border, and the sheer horror of people trafficking; it’s ultimately a rather hollow experience. While the return of Josh Brolin and Benicio del Toro offer a welcome piece of continuity, Soldado badly misses the emotional resonance of Emily Blunt and the accomplished auteur touch of Denis Villeneuve, as a sequel that promises so much descends into nothing but a rambling, generic shell of what went before.