The MacManus boys, Connor (Flanery) and Murphy (Reedus), return to “order some whup-ass fajitas!,” as their bug-eyed sidekick, Romeo (Clifton Collins Jr.), would say. No doubt this one’s for the fans, that reportedly massive cult that made the notoriously troubled first Boondock Saints into a record-smashing home-video rental. Writer-director Troy Duffy rewards their patronage with this palimpsest of drunk-’n’-drooling straight-male bromides: schoolyard taunts about being queer; leering close-ups of female gams; bloody squibs bursting in decelerated orgasmotion.
It’s all in the name of God, of course. When the Ireland-exiled Saints hear of a Boston priest who’s been murdered in their style, it’s only a matter of seconds before they break out the Berettas and hop a freighter stateside. All number of lowlifes and law enforcement are out to get them—from vengeful mobster Concezio Yakavetta (Judd Nelson) to FBI vixen Eunice Bloom (Benz)—and Duffy orchestrates the resulting carnage like an inebriate spinning fourth-rate Peckinpah tales. Fan-service cameos and a sequel-ready ending (trilogy, people!) feel like groveling acts of desperation. Only Billy Connolly, as the boys’ way-of-the-gun pa, brings a smidgen of sobering gravitas to the proceedings, though he can hardly counter the pounding hangover brought on by all the mock-virtuous butchery.—Keith Uhlich