A sequel to a movie that few people liked that much in the first place? No good can come of it, you might think. And you'd be right. Like the original, Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle is a movie that should be an effortlessly entertaining tease. Packed with gorgeous girls, guns, great music - what could possibly go wrong? One word: McG.
A staggeringly awful director, incapable of maintaining a consistent tone from one scene to the next, the ex-music video hotshot seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that the first movie was a masterpiece. So here we get more of the same: lame double entendres, camerawork that would give Michael Bay a headache, a wilfully moronic narrative and outrageous sexism in the guise of revolutionary feminism.
There are some plus points. Liu and Diaz are always watchable, while some action sequences are so archly knowing that you briefly suspect McG might be making the ultimate blockbuster satire. Long story cut short: he isn't.