DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY!

As de rigueur as sequels (and remakes and reboots) are now, there was a time when it was not thus. I remember this because I remember it being a little weird, when Lethal Weapon was a bigass hit (grossing eight times its cost; by apples-and-oranges comparison, that's roughly the same ratio as Titanic) that it was a foregone conclusion there'd be a sequel. Sequels are a funny thing, because sure they're profit-motivated, but there are things one can do with them artistically to keep the enterprise from being purely pecuniary.

Shane Black was asked back to write the sequel. Whether as a reflection of his irritation at the first movie taking a more comic tone than he'd intended or simply an indication that his sense of the story and characers was different than that of Warner Bros executives, his script did not amuse the powers that be. In his draft, where the South African embassy in Los Angeles is using its diplomatic immunity to deal drugs and kill people (a good choice), Riggs dies in the end (not a good choice). When the studio started bringing in script doctors to “fix” things—there was also a scene where Riggs is tortured even more brutally than Al Leong did in the first one—Shane Black cut all ties with the franchise.

This is partly why the first movie stands out so. The new writers brought in—the guy who wrote Remo Williams and the guy who wrote Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade—emphasized the comedy, expanding federal witness Leo Getz from a minor character into a fairly big supporting player (and one who, for better or worse, would be in each successive sequel), and throwing in a number of running gags (the one about Murtaugh's hot daughter appearing in a condom commercial that makes every guy in the movie, practically, say “she makes me want to buy rubbers” is excellent).

This is all okay in Lethal Weapon 2, as the villains are still very, very bad (passing all four parts of the Evil White Guys in Suits test with spectacular grades) and they do very, very bad things. And, much like the villains in the first movie, this villainy had basis in reality: when Lethal Weapon 2 came out, Nelson Mandela was still in jail for his resistance to apartheid, which, sure he had guns and a whole shitload of leftist rhetoric, but it was fucking apartheid: what was he supposed to do, not violently overthrow those shitheads? The minority white regime that ruled South Africa was perhaps the most widely vilified in the world at the time, what with Gorbachev rehabilitating the Soviet Union's rep by subtly disassembling its power structure and letting Ronald Reagan take all the credit, but they'd somehow avoided being the bad guys in too many action movies (probably because the good guys would have to be black).

That all changed in Lethal Weapon 2. Due to the history of the narcotics trade in Los Angeles, long unofficially sanctioned by the LAPD as a means of pacifying the black population, going into drugs as a wholly gratiuitous “fuck you” by the South African diplomatic presence in the city is not outside the realm of possibility (probability's a whole other matter, but still). And “not outside the realm of possibility” is a firmer grounding in realism than most action movies have, so there you go.

We pick up the action with a BANG, right in the middle of a car chase, nothing except a big loud title card that says “Lethal Weapon 2” (Ed. Note: the text, translated, means: “Yes. You are in the RIGHT FUCKING MOVIE.”) Mel and Danny have reached, in the time since the events of the first movie, a state of bickering married-coupledom: Mel's still a mild eccentric with a tendency to go hard charging into action, but out of balls rather than batshit insanity. Danny merely sighs and says “Dammit, Riggs” a lot, and occasionally unleashes a barrage of motherfuckers and sonofabitches, but such is the life of a veteran policeman.

After a highly entertaining car chase involving a helicopter right in the middle of downtown LA (the movie has the decency to have captain Steve Kahan find this weird), Mel and Danny take possession of a whole trunk full of Krugerrand. “Fuckin . . . fuckin gold,” Danny says, respectfully. The looks on his and Mel's faces when Mel kicks open the trunk of the upside down, crashed car and all the gold comes pouring out is another thing you don't get in lesser action movies: genuine surprise at something strange.

The baddies are not pleased that their gold has gone missing. Joss Ackland (left), setting the gold standard for foreign-accented villainy, is the type who will put a dropcloth on his office carpet so that he can have the pleasure of watching lead henchnazi Derrick O'Connor (right, deliberately coiffed, made up, and lit to resemble Hitler, because subtlety is for fags; to hammer the point home even more obviously, Mel nicknames him “Adolf”) shoot dudes in the face without having to leave his desk chair. This is exactly what he does to the unfortunate schmuck who was in the car with all the Krugerrand in it. Once Derrick O'Connor has carefully blown the guy's brains onto the dropcloth, Joss Ackland gives him his new assignment: intimidate Danny Glover, the lead investigator working the case of their drugs and Krugerrand, by threatening his family. Derrick O'Connor takes one look at Danny Glover's photo and goes, “Goddamn kaffir . . . lovely.” (Ed. Note: “kaffir” is how they say the n-word in South Africa). I mean . . . it is almost impossible to hate villains as much as immediately as you hate these guys after this scene. Efficient writing and some solid direction from Mr. Donner (the best descriptor for whom may be “skilled journeyman,” but remember “skilled” is the first part of that backhanded compliment).

So Derrick O'Connor and his Nazi Ninjas break into Danny Glover's house and thoroughly scare the shit out of him and piss him off. To give him a break, captain Steve Kahan (Captain Ed Murphy) puts Danny (Roger Murtaugh) and Mel (Martin Riggs) on a lower-stress gig:

Captain Ed Murphy: I got something special for you boys. A guy by the name of Getz, Leo Getz has been placed in protective custody. And you two guys are gonna babysit him until Washington sends out the feds.
Martin Riggs: How long?
Captain Ed Murphy: Soon as all the red tape is processed. Couple, three days. This guy Getz is gonna testify before a commission of inquiry. Drugs, laundered money, et cetera, et cetera. This is not a shit assignment.
[Riggs starts smoking]
Martin Riggs: Yes, it is.
Captain Ed Murphy: No, it isn’t.
Roger Murtaugh: [coughing due to Rigg's smoke] It is.
Captain Ed Murphy: It isn’t.
Roger Murtaugh: Captain, it’s a shit assignment.
Captain Ed Murphy: Shut up, the both of ya.
[Another cop comes in and hands the Captain a file.]
Captain Ed Murphy: I guaranteed this guy’s safety.
Roger Murtaugh: Why us?
Captain Ed Murphy: Because you two are the most qualified for the job. And, after last night, you could use the break.
Roger Murtaugh: I can handle last night.
Martin Riggs: What are we supposed to do with him?
Captain Ed Murphy: How the hell should I know? Take him to Disneyland.
Martin Riggs: Oh, this stinks. This stinks. This stinks!
Captain Ed Murphy: I don’t give a fuck, Riggs. That’s why I don’t have an ulcer, because I know when to say, "I don’t give a fuck." Now here’s where he’s staying. It’s a nice hotel; all the expenses are being picked up by the Justice Dept, so enjoy yourselves. :[They start to leave] And Riggs, one more thing!
Martin Riggs: [Turning back] What?
Captain Ed Murphy: [Tosses him a small 'no smoking' sign.] You know what that says?
Martin Riggs: Yeah, yeah, same thing as that. [Points to the large 'no smoking' sign next to him on the door, smirking.] But I don’t give a fuck. [Throws the small placard back and walks out.]
Roger Murtaugh: [wafting the smoke away from him]You’re lucky. I have to live with that.

That scene, which I love (Mel's line reading on that last “I don't give a fuck” is genius) is a pretty good indicator of the newer tone of this movie, at least when we're among the good guys, and establishes the template for the rest of the series: when the good guys are amongst themselves, they banter, when the bad guys are amongst themselves, they do very sinister and cruel things, and when the good guys and bad guys meet up, cars go very fast and things explode.

Danny and Mel meet Joe Pesci, whom they immediately dislike, and not without reason. Joe Pesci is, of course, mindbogglingly awesome—and goddamn, his Napoleon complex has a Napoleon complex—but the character of Leo Getz is fucking annoying. He's supposed to be an unscrupulous slimeball who never shuts up, which already puts him on the trying my patience list. Joe Pesci manages to make the character mildly endearing, especially by the end of the movie, but in the wrong mood this character is nails on a chalkboard (he's irredeemable in 3 and 4).

The South Africans send a guy to try to kill Joe Pesci and the proceedings go out the window and into the pool, at which point Joe Pesci reveals he's laundered half a billion dollars in drug money. Danny and Mel are suitably impressed.

In their pursuit of this lead—OMG THEIR CASES ARE TOTES MCGOATS RELATED!!!!11eleven!!—they find that the South Africans are running their operations out of a house on stilts (side note: if they ever get the rights issues unsnarled, it'd be nice if Thom Anderson's documentary Los Angeles Plays Itself can get released, because it's fucking awesome; one of his big things in it is how movies always give bad guys these amazing modern architecture houses as villainous lairs, which really pisses him off for reasons he articulates brilliantly in the movie). Naturally, considering that the hotel guy shows up and there's a car chase, Mel and Danny bring all the other cops over there to make some arrests . . . only it turns out the baddies have diplomatic immunity, and Joss Ackland sneers that he'll be making a formal complaint with the State Department.

Not to poke holes in a movie I adore, but the diplomatic immunity issue is the flimsiest part of the story. If a bunch of diplomats were running around selling drugs and killing people and shooting at the LAPD with machine guns from a helicopter in the middle of downtown and shit . . . they'd be recalled by the South African government. They may have been racist fuckbags, but the only head of state in the history of the planet who would openly let his diplomats sell drugs and kill people is Kim Jong-il, which is why the only country that lets him have an embassy is China, because no one fucks with China. The South Africans would issue all kinds of statements decrying the deplorable behavior of their diplomats, bring them back to South Africa, and throw their asses in the prison they reserve for people they really don't like. Not out of any sudden incongruous desire to be good, but because their stupid asses got caught. As the great philosopher Harold Ramis said “Never hit anyone in anger, unless you're absolutely sure you can get away with it.” Wisdom.

As the cops leave the stilt house, grumbling, the movie introduces the proverbial Good South African, Patsy Kensit's lovely consulate employee Rika van den Haas. Rika is a fairly unique character by the undemanding standards of action movie love interests, in that she embodies two disparate types at once by being the proverbial Good Girl while still being simply walking sex. The latter may have something to do with her being Patsy Kensit but I kind of doubt it, considering she's been icily distant in everything else I've ever seen her in (including interviews, and that infamous Cool Britannia magazine cover she did with then-consort Liam Fookin Gallagher). Whatever the case, Patsy Kensit shows up and widower Mel gets the thunderbolt.

Since they can't directly approach the baddies due to the whole diplomatic immunity thing, Mel, Danny, and Pesci (even though he's a witness they're supposed to be protecting, they still take him around to all the action movie shit they do, which is kind of funny because he's so annoying they're probably half-hoping he gets killed) concoct a plan to get Mel into Joss Ackland's office at the consulate (the same place he has Derrick O'Connor kill people). It's a wonderful comic vignette, where Danny pretends to want to emigrate to South Africa, but the consul employee they talk to (who aside from being a tightass seems like a nice enough guy) tells him, “You don't want to go to South Africa,” and Danny goes “Why?” and he says (in one of the movie's finest moments) “Be-because you're bleck!” This gives Danny an excuse to get all militant, and in the ensuing uproar—utilizing the already in-progress anti-apartheid demonstration outside the consulate as cover—Mel sneaks into Joss Ackland's office and, when the baddies return, basically whips his dick out and tells them “Diplomatic immunity or no, your motherfuckin ass is grass.”

This turns out to be a major mistake, as the bad guys proceed to kill just about every single other cop in LA who isn't Mel, Danny, or Steve Kahan (including the sacriligeous-for-the-80s assassinations of such luminaries as Dean Norris and Jenette Goldstein; what sick son of a bitch kills Jenette Goldstein? They don't call em Evil White Guys in Suits for no fuckin reason, believe you me). Mel escapes the ire of the Sudafrikans by fucking Patsy Kensit in his trailer, while Danny is off babysitting Joe Pesci. Still, Danny gets ambushed in his home, Joe Pesci gets kidnapped by the baddies, Danny only survives by nail-gunning a couple guys in the throat, and there's a massive machine guns and helicopters action scene where Mel and Patsy and Mel's dog escape narrowly only to be bushwacked by Derrick O'Connor at her place.

Derrick O'Connor, it transpires, is the very guy who killed Mel's wife, as the very same shadowy drug dealer to whom Mel was getting too close way back when. THE PLOT THICKENS! To make matters worse, he's killed Patsy Kensit, so Mel flips his shit as only Mel can flip his shit, driving his pickup truck out to the stilt house with the objective of ripping it from its moorings and bringing it crashing down in a flaming, racist-immolating wreck. (Again, not to be a dick, and I know it's Mel we're talkin about here, but if any pissed-off borderline psycho in a pickup truck could throw a chain around one of the stilts and just pull the fuckin thing down, don'tcha think they wouldn't build houses on stilts? I mean, come on, the fucker would have to pass earthquake code, right? It is Los Angeles, after all . . .)

With the stilt house gone to the great drafting table in the sky (and Joe Pesci rescued), Danny informs Mel that he's figured out where the Evil White Guys are, so they go roll into battle to kick some ass. Mel's boss fight against Derrick O'Connor is pretty tremendous shit, as Mel's rage and encyclopedic arsenal of esoteric martial arts match up extremely well against Derrick O'Connor's weird Dancing Marquis of Queensbury Capoeira Master style. Mel polishes him off in highly satisfying fashion, only to have Joss Ackland light him the fuggup with a Mauser (they don't stop with the Nazi parallels) at ridiculous range. Danny arrives in just the nick of time for one of the great stupid action movie moments of all time:

Joss Ackland (tauntingly, holding up his ID): Diplomatic immunity!
(Danny Glover puts one between his eyes)
Danny Glover: It's just been revoked!

FUCK YEAH, DANNY GLOVER! Way to start an international incident that would result in George Bush cravenly apologizing to de Klerk in such a manner that would strengthen domestic reactionary resolve within South Africa to such a degree that apartheid would last for an additional decade or more, perhaps even becoming the North Korea of Africa (a truly harrowing thought when you consider how fucked up most of Africa was and still is). I mean, maybe. There's a chance that if the Americans managed to throw a quick net over the whole situation and fake a tragic accident or something that it might be okay. For everyone except Danny Glover, of course. His ass would disappear. You know, if the movie really gave a fuck. Instead they just let Danny stay with the gravely injured Mel and share some male-bonding yuks while they wait for the fuzz to arrive.

Although it's the Lethal Weapon movie I've rewatched most often and, subjectively, it's my favorite I still have to admit Lethal Weapon 2 is a lesser movie when compared with the first. The jokey-jokes are a bit much at times—though nowhere near as bad as they were the rest of the series, and the exploding toilet's good for a yuk, though god damn that bomb blanket was strong, to keep Danny and Mel from blowing up when they were literally right next to a bomb that blew up the whole top of Danny's house—and unlike the first movie's relatively scant “get the fuck outta here” moments, about every five minutes something utterly recockulous happens (like the aforementioned toilet, not to mention the South African accents are on some Dick Van Dyke shit in terms of broad caricature). As such, this is the picture that stylistically, tonally, and in nearly every other way, is what people usually think of when they think of Lethal Weapon. The first movie would remain a kind of outlier, as an action movie with comedy: the remainder of the series would mainly be comedies where lots of shit blew up and two or three interpolations of Great Seriousness.

Still, let's have no misunderstanding. Lethal Weapon 2 is awesome. The good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and holy fucking shit Patsy Kensit in those suits. Yow. She makes me want to go out and buy rubbers.

Up next: Lethal Weapons 3 & 4!